Hey fellas. How are you doing?

First off, thank you for the phone calls, faxes, emails, and cakes, all inscribed lovingly with the same message of support and care in the wake of my omission from the Batter Up! reading up in San Francisco on October 14th.

But the folks at LitQuake, who seem very nice, except a bit deficient in their knowledge of baseball fiction writers who happen to be in their own general vicinity, gave me a call and informed me that, unfortunately, it’s a bit too late to get me onto the program up at the Sports Basement this year. So no more need to call them or email them, begging to get me onto the stage. I appreciate the efforts, but this year you’ll just have to wait.

And, if the Red Sox aren’t still playing, I may be at the reading, so if you catch me there I’d be more than happy to do a personalized reading, just for you.

I’ve never been to a LitQuake before, but they have a fascinating list of events lined up, and Christopher Moore alone would be worth the price of admission (free) to the baseball reading. And if it’s anything like a GrubStreet event I’m sure it’ll be well-run with lots of literate-minded folks milling about to get your fires going.

In other news, I’m slogging through the final draft of Butterfly. It’s been a long time in the works, but I think it’s my best work yet, even better than the baseball fiction (some would argue this would not be a very high bar to surpass). So there is a good possibility that someone should just lock me in my room until I finish editing and start getting it sent off like some sort of communicable disease.