SNYDERMANIA: Nov 4, 2012

Sunday, November 4, 2012

THE SPIRIT GUIDE BAR, THE FRANK BAUM SCARECROW, NOT THE RAY BOLGER SCARECROW, EDITING WITH LEDESMA AND GIDAK,THE EIGHT-FINGERED CRIMINAL'S SON, AND THE BOOK FROG

I'm plugging away at the editing process for my novel The Spirit Guide Bar. Thanks to Pete Ledesma and Gary Gidak for their editing help.

I've been thinking about the cover. Since the Scarecrow from a The Wizard of Oz is serves as a motif in the book I want him on the cover. I think all the Frank Baum illustrations are fair game. I know the Ray Bolger Scarecrow is protected by copyright. I'm meeting with my graphics guy Nick Narducci this week.

The Spirit Guide Bar is scheduled for release in March of 2013.
You can purchase a copy of my book The Eight Fingered Criminal's Son by clicking on this link:
http://www.amazon.com/The-Eight-Fingered-Criminals-Son-ebook/dp/B0083LH4HU/ref=tmm_kin_title_0

If you live in the greater Los Angeles area you can pick up a copy of The Eight-Fingered Criminal's Son at my favorite book store THE BOOK FROG. Co owner Pete Ledesma is a former stand up comic. If you buy a book he will tell you a joke.

https://www.facebook.com/TheBookFrog

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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?