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Went out to see Ben Clawson’s latest, “Cave/Men,” tonight at Tierney’s Tavern. A great show. This boy is going somewhere someday — somewhere better than the upstairs room at Tierney’s. I laughed out loud many times. In fact I  laughed so loud it would have been embarrassing (my kids have made me self-conscious in this regard) except that everybody else was laughing loud too. Well, that’s what happens when you see a play in a pub and they have two beer breaks. But it really was funny stuff. And though Ben couldn’t have been thrilled with the turnout — what were there, 30 people in the room? 35 maybe? — he had to have been thrilled with the laughter. The show worked. He has fans.

Afterwards, we all went out to Nauna’s, where I had some amazing sea bass, and I told Liza that I was feeling very down about the book. “That’s very normal,” she said. (Liza is a literary agent.) “Every author feels this way about this time.” By this time she referred to the period that I’m in, about three or four weeks before the pub date.

It is natural, she said, to feel that nothing is happening, that nobody cares, that nobody is doing anything, that the book is going to die a silent ignominious death.

But, she promised, good things will happen for this book. We may not know when or where, but there will be reviews. Nice things.

She made me feel so justified in my sulking that it began to seem unseemly.

Well I guess I’ll have to tear up that really sour essay I wrote for Christina’s blog and start over. Or at least Pollyanna it up. As Warren said, when I asked for his reaction to my draft the other day, To quote Livia Soprano, Poor you.

Like anybody’s going to feel sorry for a published author.

So what if, metaphorically speaking, I’m launching my third book in the upstairs room of Tierney’s Tavern. People don’t root for sulkers.

Got to take my laughs where I can get them and appreciate my fans.

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