Despite his Bachelor’s Degree and evident visual skills, no one wanted to hire Felice Picano as an artist or even art director after college. Instead he was roped into a series of moderately entertaining, barely paid, and minimally creative editorial and writing jobs. These led nowhere important and Picano ended up alternately book selling, hanging around on the outskirts of the Warhol Factory, and at minimal pay occupations too embarrassing to recount. Somehow one or other of these led to Rizzoli Bookstore where eventually someone on staff thought him too pretentious for even that high falutin’ store. They found him a literary agent who was beginning her own agency and was desperate for anyone knowing the rudiments of the English language to flog to corporate-publishers who should have known better. That madness led to repeated publication, a prestigious award nomination, book club and foreign language sales and eventually best sellers. Everything since has been –and it wasn’t far to go—downhill.Read more Read less
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