"Roundheads and Ramblings"
Lessons learned
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Posted on Tuesday, February 14, 2012 10:27 AM
One of my former students posted a request on Facebook this morning: "Please post a picture of an act of love." Of course he's taking a bit of harassment from people who find the suggestion, uh, suggestive. But I know what he meant, I think, because he's a very nice man, a teacher, a husband, a father. So his request set me thinking, which is a lovely reversal from the times I stood before him in a classroom and tried to challenge him to think.
I thought about a service club meeting I attended last night, and how many acts of love I witnessed in less than two hours. Here are a few of them:
1. A man in his thirties -- a medical doctor, from a country half way around the world, new to Memphis, new to his job as a professor, speaking his second language. He came to the meeting not knowing a soul there because he wanted to do something useful with his free time. "I want to help," he said as he applied for membership. "You people do good work."
2. A widow whose husband died only six weeks ago, who is refusing to believe that her own life is over. She also came to the meeting to consider membership in the group. Her husband used to be a member, and she is ready to continue his efforts in service to those in need.
3. Another young man -- a member this time -- pushing the club to donate to a fundraiser that will benefit sick children. His own two beautiful and healthy children sat there with him. He showed them the teddy bears he wanted us to purchase, bu made it clear to them that the bears would go to someone less fortunate than they. And they understood -- no crying or demands of "I want one!" We witnessed two acts of love here, I think -- children being taught well as well as an act of generosity.
4. A gay couple, open about their relationship and confident enough in it to live their separate lives -- not sitting together, following different interests, but still working as a team.
5. A married couple, old enough to have grandchildren but young enough to still be developing new careers. The wife presented her new business, confidently and well, while her husband sat in the back of the room, rooting for her and worrying for her.
6. A woman in her mid-eighties, independent, still working, reaching out to the neediest of our members with kindness and understanding.
7. And several members who were nominating others to be considered for awards. Not a one suggested himself.
Yes, Sean, you've made an important point. Acts of love are all around us. And you don't have to for Valentine's Day to see them.
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Posted on Sunday, February 12, 2012 2:09 PM
An old saying begins: "If I had a nickel for every time I _____________, I'd be rich by now." If I had to fill in that blank, I'd say, "every time someone asked me a question about how to get a book published. . ."
Seriously, it sometimes seems like every person I talk to has a secret ambition to write a book. If you're reading this blog, you are probably one of them. You have family stories to tell, or family recipes, an idea for the perfect murder, an inspirational tale about a friend or neighbor, a collection of photographs, a secret stash of poetry -- something that is so important to you that you want to to turn it into a book. But of course, the very reason you ask how to get started is that the question is too big to be answered.
For a while I tried to provide some guidance on this blog. In one post, I wrote, "Start exploring the advice available on the Internet, keeping in mind that not all sources are equally valuable. If I had to choose one blogger’s advice, I’d go to Dana Lynn Smith’s Savvy Book Marketer site. For general money saving tips, you can’t go wrong using Carolyn Howard-Johnson’s series of “Frugal” web publications."
For the rest, you can find dozens of bloggers and columnists who have made successful careers out of telling others how to use the resources of the Internet to write a book. I decided not to recommend any one over the others, because much depends on your own needs and personality. I subscribed to one promising blog, only to discover that the writer knew less than I did about the Internet and could provide only the most basic bits of advice. Her simplistic remarks sent me pounding on the delete key. Another site turned out to be written so far above me that I felt I was reading a foreign language. My best advice was to sample widely and find a few resources that prove helpful.
 Eventually I realized that if there were ironclad rules for "writing a book," someone would have laid them out a long time ago. Instead, I decided to tell my own story, from the first decision to self-publish to that heady moment when I found myself at the top of one of Amazon's bestseller lists. My choices won't work for everyone. My problems were specific to my own book. But I learned a lot along the way, and I'm happy to pass along any tips that will help you to get started on your own writing project. That's how The Second Mouse Gets the Cheese came to be.
Don't expect to find a heavy volume of unbreakable rules and stuffy grammar. This is a light-hearted anecdotal account of my ups and downs as I learned about the publishing world. I want you to smile while you read it. My little cartoon mice pop up occasionally to remind us all that if you're not having fun at what you're doing, you probably need to do something else. One reviewer commented that she felt like she was chatting with me over a cup of coffee. So if you've ever thought about writing a book, click on over to the Book Launch page and find out how you can get your own paper copy at a reduced price or a Kindle edition for only $0.99. You might even qualify for a prize. Then grab a mug, pull up a chair, and let's talk about self-publishing. |
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Posted on Thursday, December 15, 2011 2:50 PM
 It's here! The physical proof of my new book arrived in yesterday's mail. There's nothing quite like the moment when you open a box and see your book for the first time. Somewhere, deep inside, you know this proof copy will have errors, and that you're just beginning the process that will eventually put the book into readers' hands. But for that first moment, it's perfect. It represents months of hard work and self-doubt, hours at a keyboard, tons of red ink, multiple drafts. Now it's real.
Then that reality sets in. Now it's your sole responsibility to see to it that the book readers get is the book you want them to have. And that means going back to work with a vengeance. The arrival of "Second Mouse" comes at an awkward time--just two weeks before Christmas. My first thought was that if I sat down right then, checked the whole book, and found no errors, I could give the "go ahead" to the printer and have copies ready before Christmas. Sure I could. I could win the lottery, too, but it's not likely to happen. Instead, I've come to realize that a whole new set of rules govern my actions from here on. This book talks about my publishing experiences, but it does not include what happens on Day One of "Proof in Hand." So here's a new set of rules, perhaps ones to include in the next volume!
1. Pay attention to Copyright Date. Right in the middle of contemplating how fast I could get this book to market, I remembered a warning I read somewhere a couple of years ago. It asked why anyone would bring a book out at the very end of a calendar year. Suppose I get everything cleaned up and "The Second Mouse" comes out on Amazon by the end of next week. Its date of publication is December 23, 2011. In just ten days, it will be "last year's book," stepping back and making way for a whole new set of volumes published in 2012. I'd much rather wait a few more days, take my time reading over this proof, and put a Copyright 2012 label on the finished product. That means it will be "this year's book" for a full year.
2. Walk the Talk. I've written and preached about the need for close editing and attention to detail. Now I owe it to my readers to do a thorough job of proof-reading. (That's why they call it a "Proof" after all.) I spotted my first error, and thought, "I can live with that." Then I spotted a second flaw, a straight apostrophe rather than a curly one. "No one will notice," I rationalized. Then came a missing period, and I was only on page 8. Yes, this step of the publication process is going to take some time. One read-through will not be enough, and I need to trot out every trick I've ever learned about proof-reading, like reading backwards. I urge perfection on other writers; I must exercise that same standard on my own work. If beta-readers and fine-tooth combs mean that I'll need to see a second proof, so be it. Taking time now saves embarrassment later.
3. Remember What Really Matters. Still I hesitate, wanting to plunge ahead and get the book on the market. Then I look around. It's mid-December, and there are very few signs of Christmas around here. We have a tree, but no one has had time to decorate it. The Christmas cards are still in their boxes. Not a single cookie has come out of my kitchen. Even my professorial friends who are chin-deep in exam-grading at the moment are further along in their holiday preparations than I am. It's time to put the new book in perspective. Holidays, family members, traditions -- none of them will wait until it's convenient for me to get into the holiday spirit. If I miss Christmas, there's no way to get it back. But the book? It can wait. It's not going anywhere, and the final product will be better for a cooling-off period.
Lessons learned. New Rules firmly in place. Pre-ordered books will arrive in January. Now I'm off to hang a few ornaments and find that Christmas list.
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Posted on Thursday, December 01, 2011 5:06 PM
I've
been taking a few days off this week--doing some traveling and
generally relaxing, now that The Second Mouse Gets the Cheese is
formatted and safely in the hands of those who are printing and
assembling the final product. You'll hear enough of that in a couple of
weeks. In the meantime, I'm finding that relaxation time is also a time
when ideas get a chance to perculate.
For instance. Last night we had dinner in what has been called the
finest new restaurant in America. It's in a venerable southern city and
is noted for the chef's determination to use only the finest local
natural ingredients. I had read all the reviews. It took us two months
to get a reservation. Still, I don't think I was prepared for the meal
of a lifetime. When we entered, the first thing we saw was a huge pile of firewood,
waiting to feed the open ovens of the kitchen. The decor was clean--very
modern -- lots of mirrors and glass -- and dried stuff. The vase on our
table contained dried okra pods. On one wall was a huge chalkboard,
listing the farmers who raised every item we would be eating. Yes, there
was Farmer X in Texas, whose cows provided the milk for the cheese in
the pimento cheese spread, and Farmer Y in North Carolina, whose chicken
laid the egg that topped several salads. We could learn the names and
locations of their farms, if we wanted to check the quality.
Did we care? Did it make a difference? Yes, in fact it did. The
ingredients were pure and fresh. The tomatoes didn't come from a
hothouse--they were field-grown from heirloom seeds, and they tasted
unlike any tomato I had had for years. The chicken had real flavor. the
beef cut with a fork. My carrots were yellow, not an artificial orange,
The orange flavor in my fennel and bibb salad came from
individually-pealed satsuma sections grown in South Carolina. I won't
make you jealous by reciting our whole dinner. But every bite held
unexpected flavors and perfectly balanced combinations. Just one
example: dessert was a "s'more" -- a bittersweet chocolate tart, baked
in a graham flour crust (not cracker crumbs, note.), topped with a
dollop of homemade marshmallow creme, and sprinkled with sea salt. Sound
wierd? It was heavenly.
This chef -- the James Beard Chef of the Year in 2010 -- was following his own set of rules: 1. Keep it simple and pure. 2. Know every ingredient -- where it comes from and how it has been produced. 3. Constantly surprise the customer. 4. Don't be afraid to try new uses for familiar items. 5. Love every minute of what you do.
The meal was fantastic, obviously, but what sticks with me today is
the realization that those same rules can be applied to all sorts of
artistic endeavors. What wonderful books we would all write if we kept
it simple, were completely familiar with the elements of our stories,
tried to keep our readers guessing and eager to see what happens next,
took chances, learned new techniques, and loved every key-pounding
minute.
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