Selling My Books on the Streets of Brooklyn 6/11 - The Bat

I’ve been fortunate enough to have had more than 50 short stories published worldwide. I have several on file that haven’t been published. Now that I have five books in print, I haven’t concentrated on getting the remaining stories placed somewhere. An opportunity has presented itself. The publisher of A Hitch in Twilight, All Things That Matter Press, has asked for submission of pieces greater than 5000 words for a Kindle collection. If all goes well, there will be a print version. I’ve had trouble placing a story about an at-risk eleven-year-old boy and his love of baseball. The Bat is not really a children’s story and it’s more than 6000 words. I’ll send it in and hope for the best. I have nothing to lose and a lot to gain. I’m not expecting much, as the web sales of Hitch have been pathetic. Still, of all my books it draws the most positive responses. Marie has bought four copies, three for friends. I’ve sold about 130 copies on the street and through the mail. Despite weak sales, it has been a great experience. I’ll spend time editing and formatting the story, trying to make productive use of yet another rainy day in Brooklyn. Tomorrow’s forecast isn’t very promising, either. Here's a brief excerpt from the story:


   Seated with his back to the wall of the four-story building, Tony marveled at the long drives propelled by the bat of Frankie DeCarlo. Batting right-handed, the muscular teenager displayed exquisite form: feet parallel, slight crouch, elbow raised.  His swing was effortless, level, fluid, set in motion by the tiniest of strides. He hit the ball so squarely it barely flew as high as the three-tiered cyclone fence that enclosed the schoolyard. The ping of the aluminum striking the ball was crisp. Drive after drive struck the steel mesh forcefully, as if the ball were being shot out of a cannon. The Rabbi's windows, just beyond the leftfield fence, were again in jeopardy. The playground was still. Everyone was watching.
   "There's Petey Marino," said the pitcher urgently, craning his neck, gazing beyond Frankie.
   Frankie's head snapped about. Relief came over his face. Marino, the legendary sandlot coach, was nowhere in sight. The pitcher laughed. Frankie flushed, smiling. Marino punished any boy he found playing softball, claiming the lob pitching and larger ball ruined timing.
   "I better go," said Frankie self consciously.
   Tony, a dark-haired, crew cut boy of eleven, was disappointed. He secretly worshiped Frankie, who had started as a sophomore this season at Lafayette High School, which had produced, among others, Sandy Koufax and John Franco. Tony dreamed of following in their footsteps. He was sure Frankie would. Tony longed to talk to him, but it was against the unwritten code of the schoolyard, however: the younger boys were not to address the older unless spoken to first.
   Bored by the mediocrity of the others, Tony headed for the nearest exit, which was just beyond the batter's box. At the curb, beside the fire hydrant, he spotted a wooden bat split just below the label. He gazed about, seized the bat, and hurried across the two-lane street, looking back, expecting to be called a thief. Why had the bat been abandoned? he wondered. The break wasn't severe. It could easily be repaired.

Vic's 4th Novel: http://tinyurl.com/bszwlxh

Vic's 3rd Novel: http://tinyurl.com/7e9jty3
Vic's Website: http://members.tripod.com/vic_fortezza/Literature/
Vic's Short Story Collection (Print or Kindle): http://www.tiny.cc/Oycgb
Vic's 2nd Novel: http://tinyurl.com/6b86st6
Vic's 1st Novel: http://tiny.cc/94t5h
Vic's Screenplay on Kindle: http://tinyurl.com/cyckn3