"I won a few awards, so you might be able to pull them off as literature, if you have managed that with Anaiis Nin and Tropic of Capricorn. I'm here to finish the seventh. Preferably without growing any groupies of the problematic variety, which is what we were discussing when you came up." Brief smile.
He looked at the Cuban with a faint gleam in his eye. "Now that is Freud caliber ammunition right there. I'm gonna just sit nearby and breathe for a while. Heh."
He pointed upward briefly. "If you really want copies, I'll have my editor make it happen in hardback. Here's her number, I'll tell her to expect your call." He scratched down his editor's number on the back of one of his cards.