Been busy these days getting my book to move. The first consignment account I tied with is the Sorsogon Museum and Heritage Center. The Chairman was simply enticed by the fact that the imaginary place that was featured in the book was inspired by the scenic province of Sorsogon. Thank you, Mr. Chairman. The museum gets 25% share of the sales.
Meanwhile, as I was doing a few friendly interviews from buyers, some people ask me if I got acquainted, in real life, with some Frenchman. It's about a character in the book. I said, I don't. Because while the book's birth was gaining momentum, I looked over the table across me at the woman reading a newspaper. And the front page was mostly about the IMF executive Frenchman Dominique Strauss-Kahn and the creepy scandals attached to his name. Suddenly, the hairs at the back of my nape stood on their ends. For some reasons. Don't get alone at a hotel room with a Frenchman. The chambermaid was lucky to get out sane and alive. Eeeww. Scary.
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