The Hustler

I sold a copy of my book to a telemarketer yesterday. Usually. I ignore numbers that I’m fairly certain are spam, but this one originated from Washington D.C. and I thought, Hey, it might be President Biden, so I accepted the call.

Turns out, it wasn’t Potus, but it wasn’t exactly a telemarketer either. Instead, the caller was from a charitable organization that I support. I politely listened to the caller’s spiel and then replied, “I’m sorry, but I can’t make a recurring monthly donation at this time. I’m a self-published author and I’m never sure what my royalties will amount to.”

“Oh?” She said. “What do you write?”

I grinned to myself. “I have a novel that was published in December. Mayhem at the Happy Valley Motor Inn and Resort.”

“She laughed and said, “What?”

I repeated the title.

“Oh my,” she said. “I’m buying that right now!”

We…