An apology to all Yankee fans.

Last year at this time I was sitting in a three bedroom house with no TV set, and I had a manuscript that almost rose Strunk and White from their graves. I was rejected by Publish America--They put "YOUR MANUSCRIPT HAS BEED REJECTED" in the subject line of the e-mail. I was in bad shape when I wrote it. I had a heating pad duct taped to my shoulder and the doctor in the ER gave me morphine. I couldn't sleep because my back injury kept me from breathing when I tried to lay down.

I was vulnerable because I had just been illegaly evicted from my cabin in the woods and I couldn't find work. The truck blew two transmissions in three weeks, we were down.

But then Liz went and won two tickets to the World series. We didn't get to go to the game because we got sick, but we needed the money and sold them. We really could have got a ton of money for them, but we agreed to ask for what brokers were offering us, wjhich was low. We wanted to give the tickets to the fans. They were getting screwed by brokers.

We listened to every minute of the playoffs and series in that house on my stupid paint stained radio with a hanger for an antenna, and we reveled with out neighbors and friends around town. We listened to Harry Kalas make the final call of his life.

They're great people down there. I loved Philadelphia. I'm going to root for the Phillies because it was--despite having nothing--the best time of my life.

I wrote my second book during that time. Black Dark has gotten me in the door with the biggest agencies in the business. If things go well on November 3rd, I'm pretty sure it will be sold.