Most everyone I have met in my writing career has come to me by way of serendipity. That is to say, I started a writing career on my own, with no mentor, no history, and no connections, and at each turn have found someone who leads me around the next blind corner. That same magic seems to be happening again. Currently I am in Iowa City –  the only city in the United States given the title of “City of Literature” by the United Nations Educational, Scientific, and Cultural Organization (UNESCO) – and the 9th annual Iowa City Book Festival is underway. Of course this is also the home of the famous Iowa Writer’s Workshop. While here, I am still awaiting word on two novels I have under review and have started a third, and the impetus to write seems to be circulating through the aura that surrounds my waking moments. The connectivity in the air around literature is exhilarating to say the least. And as a current theme to past writings, of late, the connectivity to my being here is on the fringes of the unbelievable. In short, I would not be here if it weren’t for Penny McFadden – the person whom The Penny is written about. It is her niece that is getting married in Iowa City! I wasn’t going to attend any of the conference gatherings, but Christine pushed me into a discomfort zone of listening to authors, editors, and publishers, once more, tell the horror stories of getting published on the big stage. But the serendipity took over, and I woke my brain to acceptance. The divergent path taken to arrive here has been too many years in the making to let my ego and sensitivities get in the way; thus I shall attend a full line-up tomorrow. Until then, I ply my craft in a new book entitled: “Jesus Walked Down My Alley.” No hints, but it’s a sequel to my latest, “Moving Tables,” and continues the tales of Frank Flannigan and his restaurant in Brow Point, Michigan. You never know where life takes you, so make sure your eyes and ears are open to let your brain soak it all in.