About a year ago, we spent a pleasant evening with friends in Topeka, for dinner and a visit. They introduced us to another couple whom we liked instantly. Both were intelligent, interesting, and with a broad range of experience. Even better, both had a great sense of humor. The six of us fit instantly into a conversation in which we all laughed until we were sore the next day. Stated in another way, we had found someone who understood our own somewhat offbeat sense of humor. (We were once told by a relative that our humor is twisted, sick and perverted, and that we deserve each other. We took this as a compliment, thought I don't think it was intended that way. But it works for us.)
Toward the end of the evening, our hostess mentioned that Max, our new friend, had done a bit of writing. He's such a skillful storyteller that I was not surprised. I was interested, especially since our hostess is a very skilled and experienced librarian, and a good judge of writing (i.e. she likes my books). She pulled out a book manuscript written by Max, and handed it to me to take home, over Max's mild protest. Since I value her judgment, I looked forward to getting into the story.
It was a novel, set in the 1930s. I was reminded of Huckleberry Finn, or of some of Booth Tarkington's Penrold novels. It's a coming-of-age book, the story seen through the eyes of an 11-year-old, Edwin J. Stamford, who lives in Epic, Kansas, a fictional town (probably fortunately).
People who remember the '30s will understand the crimping of a couple of evaporated milk cans on Edwin's hoes to make it sound like a horse when he runs.
But I'm getting ahead of myself. I was so impressed by this book that I wanted to help Max find a publisher. A former editor of mine had worked on a couple of humorous historical novels by Ellen Recknor, which later won awards. I tried to interest him in this project, but he had changed jobs (quite common in publishing today) and for a while I couldn't even locate him. Meanwhile, Max was investigating self-publishing. This is an entirely different game than "vanity" publishing, in which the write simply pays a publisher to publish a book. Since I know very little about either, I couldn't help him much.
Max and his wife, Carol, designed and created The Revival, along with the creation of their own publishing company, Dancing Goat Press. They sent me some photocopies of the cover layout and asked if I'd consent to write a few words for a quote to promote the book. Writers are often asked for a comment on another writer's work. One hand washes the other, as the saying goes. Usually it's no problem. (There have been a few times when I absolutely refused. Once I had to tell the writer that I didn't even want my name associated with her book.) With this book, however, I was eager. After a couple of tries. I realized that I really wanted to write an introduction, rather than a quote, which was fine with Max and Carol.
The Revival, ($9.95) by Max Yoho (yes, his real name) is about a theoretical contest between the Methodists at one end of town and the Holy Rollers at the other, with simultaneous visiting evangelists, each striving for the most converts. It's mildly irreverent, just a shade naughty, though at least one minister who has read it loved it. There's a laugh on every page, if we don't take ourselves too seriously. The characters are marvelously written, and the reader will be constantly saying, "Yes, I remember him" (or her).
The big disadvantage of self-publishing is that the writer has to do his own marketing. Max will be doing book signings throughout the area, including Emporia on April 28, at the Town Crier. Or, you could contact Dancing Goat at 3013 S.W. Quail Creek Dr., Topeka, KS 66614.
See you down the road.
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