I am trying to wrap my mind around the almost hysterical, obsessive need for people to become a published author. Mostly, I suspect, it is like one of those twist off caps on a cheap bottle of wine where the threads don’t quite catch right. There is a concentrated effort to get the cap off. More simply, getting into the publishing racket is another example of our need for acceptance in the crowd of strangers. We live in age where many people wish to stand out apart from the crowd as an accomplished worthy, special word genius. The problem is the number of people who want to stand out by writing books has become larger than the crowd that read and buy books.

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Imagine you wake up in the morning and open the curtains. It is another ordinary day. Traffic is moving. People are walking along the streets. The street vendors are behind their stalls. Then you open your email because everyone knows that is absolutely one of the first things to be done in the morning. It is like Christmas Morning. Who has left a little present under the tree?

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Yesterday I finished the first draft of the new Vincent Calvino novel.

Several times a year I meet authors who are passing through Bangkok. As Bangkok is a pass through kind of place. Ever so often one of these encounters leaves a lasting impression. For instance, Mr. Cakes Copeland internationally acclaimed author of the series that included the Number 1 bestseller The Ice-cream Lady of Angkor Wat, was a recent guest.

As we drove to the waterfall through the hardscrabble Rajasthani land, all scrub, desert, barren hills, the road passed through small villages. In between were stone fences snaking toward the distant hills.