The book release date of December 11th, 2019, a date circled in red on my calendar, will finally arrive tomorrow.  And I just want it to be over. 

The white static of busyness has flooded my mind for weeks, with so much to do I feel as though I've done nothing. Finally, it's on Amazon and Goodreads ( but I missed the pre-release Giveaway. I sent out 40 Advance Review Copies in the hopes of securing a review, and heard back from 1.  Better than none, right?

Attempts at promoting have nearly all failed, but I was interviewed last week for a podcast to be released by the end of the year. I'm learning to instantly forget the rejections, learn from my failures and embrace the successes.

Somehow, I'm even turning moments of joy into nervous anxiety.  Last night, two heavy boxes arrived by post. I refused to open them for an hour, thinking about my recent article in the local paper about an averted tragedy. The synagogue that I attend was nearly blown-up by a white supremacist but his efforts were thwarted by the FBI. It made the national news and I wrote a little article titled, “Blowing Up My Temple” (see Blog post from a month ago).  

So, I’m staring at the boxes on my doorstep and thinking maybe my public revelation about being Jewish has made me a target. Maybe some friends of that domestic terrorist who tried to blow us up have decided to send me an anti-Semitic explosive reminder. That’s the problem with feeling targeted for your beliefs or your race, you see danger everywhere.  

Fear is an emotional response whereas insecurity is a psychological reaction.  And I’ve learned to smother both. I’ve learned to fight back.

After an hour of waiting, not from fear but because I wanted to relish the anticipation, I grabbed a knife since boxes beg to be opened. Inside were 50 fresh copies of my book. More explosive than a bomb!

And now I have to get rid of ‘em, as quick as possible. Because no author wants 50 copies of his own damn book.