SNYDERMANIA: Apr 7, 2012

Saturday, April 7, 2012

ERIN AND LES ROACH'S KIDS TO SELL THE EIGHT-FINGERED CRIMINAL'S SON AT CHICAGO LEMONADE STAND

It feels pretty good to hold a copy of of my book in my hand. I've been carrying it around since it arrived in the mail two days ago. Okay, I admit it, I've been sleeping with the book under my pillow.

It's time to create some book buzz and do some guerrilla marketing. I guess I could rent a gorilla suit and switch things up with some gorilla marketing.

Les Roach of Chicago offered to have his kids set up a book and lemonade stand in his neighborhood. I accepted. So look for the book and lemonade stand if you live in Chi-Town. I think I'll have the crew in the picture above try the same thing here in Arizona.

In case you have trouble finding the book and lemonade stands in Chicago and Arizona you can purchase the print version of THE EIGHT-FINGERED CRIMINAL'S SON by clicking on this link: https://www.createspace.com/3746672

I'll keep you folks posted on the book sales progress. Thanks to those who read the book and extra thanks to those who posted reviews on Amazon.com. If you read the book and liked it, let someone know, will ya?
And please let me know if any of you have any cheese whiz book marketing ideas.

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NORTHERN EXPOSURE

Goethe's final words: "More light." Ever since we crawled out of that primordial slime, that's been our unifying cry: "More light." Sunlight. Torchlight. Candlight. Neon. Incandescent. Lights that banish the darkness from our caves, to illuminate our roads, the insides of our refrigerators. Big floods for the night games at Soldier's field. Little tiny flashlight for those books we read under the covers when we're supposed to be asleep. Light is more than watts and footcandles. Light is metaphor. Thy word is a lamp unto my feet. Rage, rage against the dying of the light. Lead, Kindly Light, amid the encircling gloom Lead Thou me on! The night is dark, and I am far from home- Lead Thou me on! Arise, shine, for thy light has come. Light is knowledge. Light is life. Light is light.

FIELD OF DREAMS

Well, you know I... I never got to bat in the major leagues. I would have liked to have had that chance. Just once. To stare down a big league pitcher. To stare him down, and just as he goes into his windup, wink. Make him think you know something he doesn't. That's what I wish for. Chance to squint at a sky so blue that it hurts your eyes just to look at it. To feel the tingling in your arm as you connect with the ball. To run the bases - stretch a double into a triple, and flop face-first into third, wrap your arms around the bag. That's my wish, Ray Kinsella. That's my wish. And is there enough magic out there in the moonlight to make this dream come true?