The Literary Agent

I lived in Naples, Italy from 1982 to 1987, and like many military kids, I grew very close to my tight knot of friends. The "Naples Gang" met in the library of Naples American High School during breaks from classes. It was a relatively small room int he basement, consisting of a few tables, bookshelves and the ever-present card catalog (this was in the era before computers and the Internet). We laughed and talked, wrote reports and penned stories.

The librarian, Mr. D, was a grandfatherly type who looked after all of us. The library was his domain, of course. He didn't tolerate a ot of guff. At that time, he must have in his forties or early fifties, stocky, balding and bespectacled. He knew about my literary aspirations and encouraged my scribbling.

We had a running joke between us: when I became a famous writer, he'd be my agent and he'd represent me in Hollywood when my books made it to film. There was the good-natured hagging over his "percent". We finally settled it at ten. In fact, at the end of the school year, he wrote the following in my yearbook:

"Long live Rosalyn; long may she write. Remember my percent and see you in Hollywood."

Well, Mr. D. I may not be as big of an author as John Grisham or Stephen King, but I am still looking for an agent!

All original writing and art copyright A. Dameron 2000-2010