11/1/25
I'm looking at what remains of my $5,000 donation, and determining what I'll be able to do with it. Thanks to my own experience in writing, photography and typesetting, I've been able to create a professional-looking print-on-demand book which will be distributed via Amazon and IngramSpark. I've also been able to create a website (which I'll share soon), and an introductory video. I will be able to give small presentations--if I can arrange them--within driving distance. I won't have to do that "on the cheap"--I could rent a hotel room instead of driving back at 2:00 a.m., eat at a restaurant instead of bringing a bag lunch, and buy presentable clothes instead of showing up in my usual every-day outfits. I could probably create a couple of high-end press releases.

I should also be able to send out a certain number of carefully-targeted gratis copies. And that would about do it. There are no funds in this budget for online promotions. It's either that, or skimp on all the forgoing physical stuff, and throw my donation into the "black hole" of internet promotions. I decided that with the current heavy opposition to my work from all quarters, that would be like playing the lottery.

I've noticed something odd...on Facebook, when I briefly explain my upcoming book, at least a few people seem cautiously interested and respectful. I'm certainly not used to that! But when I try to check back with podcasters and organization contacts who were receptive before, I'm not getting a response from them. I could speculate, but actually I don't understand it. I did a good job on the podcast; I gave a good talk for the organization. Both seemed pleased, afterwards. Why totally ignore me, now?

I always end up with two possibilities, neither of which I can prove:

1) I have gone beyond their "boggle threshold"; or
2) It's getting too dangerous and they won't touch it.

My inclination has always been to assume #1. But gradually, over the years, I've seen a pattern which suggests #2.

Maybe they're right. But I'm convinced I was born to do this--literally, I was born on Christmas Day. It sounds crazy, admittedly--but I think that was a sign I gave myself, before I incarnated. "You have something to accomplish related to Christmas, in this lifetime."

I'm the messenger, the man on the ground. I'm the "Frodo" of this operation--the "ring bearer." And I have a job to do. Google "A Christmas Carol," and glance at all the plays, and the commentaries, and the classroom instruction. You could do the same thing on, say, JSTOR, for scholarly papers. Let me try that, for the heck of it: "A Christmas Carol" in quotes, in the JSTOR search field...

I got 5,949 results. Do you realize that every single one of them becomes obsolete and laughably mistaken, the instant my research results are accepted? Because every single one of them assumes Charles Dickens' original authorship.

The trick will be to expose Dickens as a plagiarist and a fraud, without killing the "Carol" outright. How many will recoil against the entire package, versus how many will transform their understanding? Reaction is easy; transformation is hard. Reaction keeps you stuck; transformation leads to fresh vistas. Do they throw out the baby with the bathwater, or do they discover the original depth and power of "A Christmas Carol," as it was written by Mathew and Abby Whittier?

I think it depends very much on what each person brings to the table. But lest you blame me for the destruction, this was coming, anyway. If you had read the books I've read, you'd know that Charles Dickens has already been exposed as a scoundrel. They all know it--only, the coverup is holding. However, this isn't sustainable. Even if I am successfully ignored, Dickens will be discredited. But if he is exposed while everyone believes he wrote "A Christmas Carol," it will go down into the mud along with him.

I have, on occasion, written to religious figures, trying to warn them about this, but none will discuss it with me.

If I cannot arrange small presentations, then I will have to rethink the strategy. I feel that I am being guided, and it's a matter of just trying different angles until I hit on the one I'm supposed to be doing. That also means it might not be this Christmas season. Somehow, though, I feel that some door, somewhere, is going to open.

This book is just too good to ignore.

Sincerely,

Stephen Sakellarios, M.S.