Waiting For An Open Bed features some of the writing I did while in the Sunnyvale Mental Institute in fictional Fermonga, Ohio where they make Fermonga cheese. Not one word or character, including my shrink, Mad Dog Ernie Krisinsky, or Coochie Butler or my cousin Bill, ever existed. It will probably end up being around 50,000 words. It's not horror, and could be considered humor, but it does probe the depths of my real or imaginary psychosis.
The title came from something a shrink told me several years ago. "I would like to put you in the hospital, but we're waiting for an open bed." The shrink has since died, and I'm still waiting.
It's not available yet, and if I can't find a standard publisher, which may not be likely, I'll probably put it out through POD and digital. I'm not sure because I'll be going through the query process, which could take the rest of my life to get reply.
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