Back on January 13th, I was struggling with too many choices. One resolved itself simply: Disney trip cancelled for lack of market share. Oh. Well. The boy will never know what he’s missing.

An expert in the field has enlightened me to the concept that one perhaps cannot/should not be a “Press” without in some way being, well, a press, a publisher, of some kind.

So I’ve been working as an assistant agent on a WWII memoir, a story not about the Holocaust, but about the little-known internment of the people of the Dutch East Indies by the Japanese,