Hospital stay with a happy ending

"You need a biopsy" is a scary announcement. "There is a slight complication" is scarier yet. Suddenly, there are gurneys, tubes, I.V.s, every-other-hour checks of vital signs, and endless waiting for doctors and diagnoses--all exhausting and uncomfortable.

I just spent two days in a very nice section of a very nice hospital. I started out in "special services" and ended up in a cross between an ER and a modified ICU. My room was OK, except that it lacked a bathroom. This was my first experience with an indoor port-a-potty and a sink as the only visible plumbing. After the initial discomfort of the tests and aftereffects, I spent a lot of time waiting and reading.

At the very last minute of the very last hour my doctor arrived and said the magic words: "It's not cancer; you can go home." As anticlimactic as the event was, I accepted it with gratitude and left as fast as I could gather my paperwork and hail a wheelchair. Despite the two long and miserable days, "exhausting and uncomfortable" were a welcome relief.

A Year of Learning Life's Lessons

This has been a year of "lessons"—some revelatory, some repetitions of those I had learned and forgotten. I heard myself say "aha" so many times it became a private joke. I can't remember a year when I was so conscious of what matters and what is a waste of the space it was taking up in my brain. Permit me to share a few of my epiphanies with you.

1. Don't let a little tear in the fabric of your family become a huge rip. Do whatever you can to mend it while you can.
2. They say you can choose your friends but not your family. Good friends are family—the family you create by choice.
3. Moods are energy, and energy is contagious. If you don't believe it, see what happens when you smile and say something pleasant to someone who is crabby or rude.
4. Feeling OK is not the same as being healthy. Health is a gift, but you can do a lot to make it the gift that keeps on giving. Don't take it granted; life can throw you a curve when you least expect it.
5. Work is not labor when you are enriched by doing it. It is not about money or what others expect of you. Doing what you love and loving what you do is like hitting the jackpot every day.

Writing Is Not a Competitive Sport

It seems like a very long time ago—well, actually, it was a very long time ago (1972)—that I met an editor who was in a race for her life. She edited the feature section of a major daily newspaper and was tyrannical in the way she ran her little fiefdom. She treated writers like second-class citizens, never returning calls, scribbling on carefully typed manuscripts, and developing a well-deserved reputation for rudeness. She only talked to me because I was a fellow editor.

I have no idea how old she was, though I had this sense that she was especially disdainful of young writers. One day she confided that she was indeed threatened by all of those fresh young faces coming out of the University of Missouri’s famed journalism school. “They are after our jobs!” she insisted. “And, if we’re not careful, they’ll get them.”

I could have learned one of two lessons from her: (a) Watch out for all those youngsters coming up behind me and don’t let them catch up; or (b) nurture talent wherever and whenever I see it. If they are better than I am, they probably deserve my job.

Fortunately, I opted for (b). I've never been sorry.

Form a New Habit: Look to the Left

My daughter has a saying: "If you think you have problems, look to your left." This week, I was forced to do just that. She has two friends who recently suffered tragic losses due to serious accidents.

Such costly accidents happen every day. They are the stuff of the late news on local TV stations. Most of the time, when we hear about them, we feel a fleeting sense of sympathy and then go on about our business. We don't know those people. But when misfortune hits close to home—when it happens to a friend or family member—the sympathy we feel is long lasting and deep.

Often, in the midst of our sincere caring and concern, we take a moment to give thanks for our own good fortune. Our problems, whatever they may be, suddenly seem tiny and inconsequential.

Thanksgiving is two days away—a sanctioned and appropriate time to be mindful of all that have, rather than what we don't have. It shouldn't take a close-to-home catastrophe to simply "look to the left" now and then.

What to do when you are out of your depth

I met with a new author recently who had taken her finished manuscript to a quick-print shop. The owner told her he could design and print her book for a few hundred dollars. He promised to show her a proof before he printed the final copies. When he delivered the book, however, it wasn't a proof. It was the final, printed book; and it was in a carton with many other final, printed books.

Unfortunately, the manuscript had never been edited, so there were many mistakes in its 240-plus pages. The "design" looked like it had been done by a group of first graders. And, in general, the book was about as bad as it could possibly be.

The printer didn't seem in the least disturbed. He collected his money, gave the author the files on a CD , and walked away. The story gets worse. The files on the CD were worthless and couldn't be corrected. The author was out her money and had no idea what to do next. In fact, she didn't even know what she might have done to prevent the current mess. She felt very stupid.

This author had never written a book before. She had been working on this one for many years and had no idea what the process of writing and publishing a book entailed. She was not alone. Many first-time authors are in the same position: They don't know what they don't know. They don't know what to ask or whom to ask.

Here is my advice. When you are out of your depth and don't even know what questions to ask, do two things. First, find an expert in the field; second, ask one question—What do I need to know?

Dininig Experience from Hell

My sister and I had dinner at what was supposed to be the "best restaurant" in Grafton, Illinois. Unfortunately, it failed to live up to its advanced press. The pizza, which we ordered as a meal, was the size of dessert plate. The waitress never came near us, so we put in our own order and paid without getting a check. When we mentioned the lack of service to the owner, he abruptly pulled a bunch of bills out of register and slammed them on the counter. We said we really didn't want our money back. Shoving the bills in our direction, he said it would make HIM feel better to give us our money back. We escaped without taking the refund.

"Well," I asked as we drove away, "What lesson can we take away from THAT experience?" This was tough, even for two people who were determined to make lemonade out of a bunch of pretty rotten lemons. (We don't always do that.)

We had just read Blink: The Power of Thinking Without Thinking by Malcolm Gladwell. My sister suggested that if we had read his face more carefully, we would have known what emotions were going on there. I, being the family philosopher said, "You never know what is going on in people's lives. All you know is what you see on the surface. Maybe he had a very bad day."

"Even so," she countered, "Since he owns a restaurant that caters to tourists, don't you think he could have TRIED to be gracious?" So much for brainstorming.

We drove in silence all the way back to our little cabin. Finally, my sister said, "Maybe the lesson is to lower our expectations so we'll never be disappointed." I'm sure the guy who writes the Zen Habits blog would agree. He's always saying stuff like that. It's great advice and an apt lesson; but for this mere mortal, it will take a lot of work to put it into practice. (No, that was not an intentional pun.)

What would my mother do?

Sometimes, when I'm in a really tough spot and I just don't know what to do, I think about my mother.

My mother was ninety-one when she died, eleven years ago. She didn't go to college , though I've always thought she should have; but she was wise in a way I would like to be. When she was presented with a problem, she would get to the heart of the matter in seconds. No hesitation; no long, drawn out analysis; no carefully worded delivery, often to the dismay of those on the receiving end.

The dynamics between mothers and daughters are not always smooth, especially when both people are strong and outspoken. Of course, we had our clashes over the years, probably more than I want to recall. But now, when I really want her advice on matters of the mind and heart, I can only surmise what she might say. And, amazing as it sounds, if I go with that imagined advice, I usually do the right thing.

All We Need is Time

You can't learn the important lessons in life from a book, though God knows I've tried. I've read tomes on philosophy, religion, mythology, and other sources of wisdom until I'm bleary eyed. But other than achieving an intellectual awareness of these profound teachings, I can't say I have reached enlightenment.

Years ago, when I was in my twenties, a much older person (he must have been at least forty) told me: "The longest journey in life is between intellectual understanding and emotional understanding." I had no idea what he was talking about then. Now, fifty years later, I get it.

Still, the insights come in their own sweet time. The other day I realized once again that feelings that seem to be cast in stone can change, given enough time. Nothing lasts. Everything in life is born and dies and, in between, is constantly changing. That certainly includes emotions, opinions, and beliefs.

If only we could change the feelings we don't want without waiting for years and years to pass. After all, it's not like we have forever to make that journey.

The What's-it-all-about-Alfie? question

When life perplexes me, as it does often, I find myself singing (well, I can't sing, so I just hum) that line from the original Alfie movie. I usually conclude that I have no more idea of what's it's all about than Alfie did. I remain in the dark as to the meaning of life.

But last night I went to a 75th birthday party for someone I have known since he was sixteen and I was fifteen. That's a lot of years. It's hard to describe the party without telling everyone's life's story. Suffice to say, there were many people there from my past and present lives—people I had not seen for years and people whom are inextricably tied to my heart. I hugged relatives and friends who now have gray hair; I marveled at how much or how little we had changed; I treasured every conversation, no matter how brief.

It was a bittersweet event, tinged with memories and emotion. I drove home replaying the tape of the evening in my my mind, and before I dozed off, I had a single moment of clarity. I knew the answer.

Alfie, pay attention. It's all about the connections we make with others in our brief journey through this life. It's about relationships.

Assessing the Urgency Factor

Sometimes, we just need a “time out”—a break from our obligations, schedules, and to-do lists. It’s nice when we can plan them (a vacation), as opposed to having them descend upon us (an unexpected illness). I’ve had both within the last month: first, a week in Florida to visit my daughter, and, second, a short, strange bout with pneumonia. As time outs go, the pneumonia was more effective.

When I travel, I take my life with me, i.e., laptop computer, files, access to e-mail, cell phone, and anything else that seems likely to be needed. When I get where I’m going, I set up shop in a little corner somewhere and work, work, work. In between, I read, read, read. I love what I’m doing but can hardly consider this a break in the action. It’s just a change of environment.

Pneumonia, on the other hand, even though it wasn’t serious or life threatening, stopped me cold. I abandoned my office as if it were in another location (It’s actually next to my bedroom). I didn’t check e-mail. I didn’t call people or go through my inbox. I didn’t sort mail. I didn’t write. I just dropped out for a week. And what is really strange is that I didn’t feel one minute of guilt.

When I finally felt better, I put on real clothes and went back to work. Something had changed, though. I felt strangely refreshed, though still a bit droopy, and I had a new perspective on the urgency factor. Though much awaited my attention, it wasn’t all equally critical; some of it could wait; and some of it didn’t need to be done at all. Life had not stopped while I did. It just kept on flowing, as it always does.

Like a child slipping into a moving jump rope, when I was ready, I easily jumped back into my world.

Shades of Gray

I was sitting at the airport this morning waiting for my plane to board and happened to notice a book sitting on top of someone’s luggage. It was called Obama’s Diaries. As the person who owned the book began to gather his belongings, I asked, “In favor of or anti?” “Definitely anti,” he replied. “There is no middle ground, is there?” I said. “There sure isn’t,” he said (smiling, at least) and walked off.

I’ve been pondering this little exchange since it took place, not because of its subject—the president—but because of what those four short sentences conveyed. My interpretation:

Question: Is the author for or against Barach Obama?

Answer: Against, for sure.

Response: This seems to be s a black and white issue. No shades of gray?

Reply: Right. You’re either pro or con.

I know the president is controversial. I can’t remember a president since Eisenhower who wasn’t. But that’s not the point. The point is that everything is controversial these days. You’re either for or against, pro or con, black or white. No matter what the topic, there is no middle ground. No balanced discussion. No exploration of issues or perspectives. For every point of view expressed on TV news or radio talk shows, there is an equal and opposite view. In the name of balanced journalism, there are always two sides of every story, and they must be given equal airtime.

But here’s a thought. What if there is only one side of the story, and nothing else merits mentioning? Example: A Holocaust, in which 12 million people were brutally murdered, was perpetrated by Nazi regime in the 1940s. It happened. There is abundant documentation to prove it happened. End of discussion. There is not another side to this story.

On the other hand, what if there are several sides to the story, multiple perspectives instead of only two? Example: the Iraq war. There were many ways of perceiving this event, including the perspectives of the US president, the secretary of state, the American people (some pro, some con), the Iraqi people, other Middle East countries (some pro, some con), and countries all over the world. It's simplistic to say there are only two ways to look at this: for or against.

Life is complicated, way too complicated to reduce it to a face-off between black and white. There are far too many shades of gray to ignore.

The Savvy Ghostwriter

Ghostwriting is hard work—very hard work—for both the author and the ghostwriter. It's like an arranged marriage of strangers. The difference is only that the partners make the arrangements, themselves, based on the answers to some tough questions. For example, a potential author may ask questions like these:

1. I want this book to sound like I wrote it? How can you do that?
2. Where are you going to get the content?
3. How you going to get inside my head and become me?
4. What do you charge?
5. How long will this take?
6. Do you expect your name to be on the cover?

But it's the questions ghostwriters ask that reveal the most important information.

1. What is your book about?
2. Who is your target audience?
3. What do you hope to achieve with this book?
4. What kind of relationship do you envision with the ghostwriter?
5. Where is the information to come from? How will I access it?
6. Do you understand the differences among royalties, work for hire, and hourly rate?
   

There are four sets of questions ghostwriters ask:

1. about the book
2. about the process
3. about the client
4. about payment.

For ALL the questions a ghostwriter must ask, get your free copy of The Savvy Ghostwriter. The first ten people who e-mail me at bobbi@words-to-live-by.com with "The Savvy Ghostwriter" in the subject line, will receive this new eBook ... FREE.

How to Succeed: Sometimes, Very Slowly

When I decided I wanted to write, I had no reason to believe I could do it. I had not majored in journalism or English; I had never had a writing job; but I knew this was what I wanted to do. So I started setting goals. First they were small. I just wanted to get one thing in print, anything, even a paragraph. Then one day, one of my stories—a humor piece on being a handball widow—was published in a national handball magazine. I was out of my mind with joy and quite the hit at the handball courts for a few weeks.

The big question then was how to follow my act? I immediately set another goal. When I reached that one, I set another and then another and another. The most important thing about my goals was that one led to the next in a relatively logical formation. I didn't realize that while it was happening. In fact, I had no plan. Every time I reached a goal, I thought of something else I wanted to do, and that became my next target. Haphazard as my "system" was, it worked for me.

It took me four-and-a-half years to fill one little portfolio with published pieces. They are now yellow and somewhat brittle but they are testament to the power of putting one foot in front of the other. This was the lesson: Success doesn't always come in one dramatic leap. Most of the time, it is incremental, one tiny step at a time. Then, one day you look up and think, "Wow, I made it!"

You can't please everyone

I know how actors feel when they read the reviews the morning after opening night and find one scathing assessment of their work. The performance was bad; the script was worse; and the actor was beyond awful. Struggling to find something positive to write, the reviewer notes, "She did remember her lines." The actor travels from dumbfounded to disappointed to depressed in the space of one paragraph. She doesn't even recall the other reviews. THIS is the only one that matters.

The feelings are much the same when the review is about one's book. I know because I received one. It was just an e-mail, so the rest of the world didn't see it—or at least I hope not. The only good thing the reviewer had to to say was that I had "a way with words."

Today, a colleague sent me a review she had posted on-line. It was thoughtful; it was glowing; it was all over the Internet. I'm going to blow it up and have it made into a poster. The best part was how quickly it obliterated the preceding withering critique, which by the way, is the only one I've read.

With a little help from your friends

No one succeeds alone, no matter how talented, intelligent, or lucky that person may be. There is always another person—usually many people—along the path who open a door, share words of encouragement, or in some way make it possible to take the next step.

Whoever coined the phrase "pay it forward" was a genius. If you have achieved anything in your life, someone helped you, guided you, mentored you. You can't pay that person back; you can only pass the gift along.

The Space Between

Life transitions are confusing. Between endings and beginnings is a fallow space where nothing seems to be happening. Actually, it is a time of quiet creativity and renewal. Something new is in the works; you just can't see it.

Think about winter. Sometimes, it seems to go on forever. The world is cold and gray. It takes an act of faith to believe that Spring is going to burst forth one day. It always does (if you're lucky enough to live in a place with four seasons).

Life is like that. Something ends, and nothing seems to take it's place. But, eventually, something will. Nature abhors a vacuum.

When amazing things happen

Is there a magic formula for creating a successful life or career? There are all kinds of theories about how and why things happen in our lives and how much each of us has to do with the outcome. Some people believe in the power of goal getting; other, in sending your desires out to the universe, like Field of Dreams or The Secret.

In 1960, physician and author Maxwell Maltz likened the idea of setting goals to a torpedo, speeding toward its target. When the torpedo veers off course, an internal feedback system makes the necessary corrections and points it back to its programmed end point. Thus, we are responsible for knowing where we want to go and getting ourselves there.

There is another explanation and one I believe in. Never underestimate the existence of just plain luck. Call it synchronicity or serendipity or coincidence; but the fact is, sometimes you have no idea why something amazing happens to you.

How to Play Well With Others

When we describe someone as "egocentric," we are really saying that person is the center of his or her own universe. But when you think about it, aren't we all the center of our own universes? Don't we see things from our own perspectives? No matter what happens, don't we always think it's about us? Aren't we focused on our own needs and desires most of the time? Of course, we are, because we are human. But, if that's true, doesn't it stand to reason that other people see things from their own perspectives, think everything is about them, and focus on their own needs and desires, just as we do?

Yet, it seems to be extremely difficult to get along with people much of the time. We just don't get another person's perspective at all. Many people don't even realize there is a perspective other than their own. Here's a thought: What if, instead of always concentrating on our own needs, we could try to understand someone else's needs? Might we not have better relationships? The answer is YES.

Interpersonal skills boil down to a single question: What does this person need from me at this moment? If you can answer that question and give each person what he or she needs, however briefly, you can get along with anyone.

Assembling the Puzzle Pieces

Do you ever feel like the thing you're doing right now has nothing to do with your life? You were on a path but seem to have taken a wrong turn somewhere. You find yourself engaged in some activity that makes no sense. I have certainly experienced that "what-am-I-doing?" feeling, especially in my career.

I am a writer. I have always been a writer. Then, what was I doing selling training programs on the East Coast—driving up and down unfamiliar highways, losing my luggage every time I went to Philadelphia, hailing cabs in crazy Manhattan, and lugging sample cases through airports? I had no idea. It felt like an out-of-body experience until I looked back on it years later when I was selling myself to potential clients. I could never have done it if not for that totally unrelated stint as a sales rep back in the eighties.

Take the long view and realize that everything you do, no matter how inconsequential it may seem, is like a puzzle piece in a much bigger picture. The piece may not fit anywhere at first, but eventually the pattern will become clear.

One Way to Show Appreciation

I am about to have a book launch/signing with a friend and fellow author. As a rule I find book signings underwhelming—especially when they are held in the back corner of a bookstore, no one knows they're taking place, and the author is not particularly famous. First of all, why would anyone want a book signed by a total stranger unless they just like having a shelf full of signed books to show people.

I went to a book signing once and bought a book by a very good friend of mine. She sold a lot of books and probably had writer's cramp from writing the same greeting and her name over and over again. She looked happy to see me but wrote what she had written in everyone's book. I confess I was disappointed. I guess I wanted something just for me. I always write a personal note (usually too long), which is hard because I have trouble writing. I figure people don't want a generic phrase; they want to know I appreciate their taking the time to come and buy my book.

The whole process of writing and publishing a book is hard work, and I throw my heart into it. I always figure the person buying the book knows that and cares. Maybe that's an erroneous belief, but it makes me feel better about the whole process. So, I will bring my very best pens and write a personal note to every person who plunks down real money to buy the fruits of my labor. It's the only way I know to say "thank you."

The Power of a Promise

I had this brilliant idea about planning, writing, publishing, and promoting a book on my blog (The Writing Life) for all the world to see. It was daunting, but I did it. The whole process took six months—from concept to completion, except for implementing the marketing plan. I have no idea who followed my progress, or, to be honest, if anyone did. But I operated on the assumption that I had a large and loyal following. If people were actually reading the blog, they would expect me to honor my commitment.

The draft that appeared on The Writing Life was not the final one, of course. The manuscript underwent so many edits, it was probably unrecognizable at the end. But having an audience (even a make-believe one) forced me to stick to my self-imposed deadlines, no matter what. After forty years, I'm a pretty disciplined writer, but this book demanded more of me than anything I had done in the past.

It's funny how the lessons of your childhood never leave you. In my family, a promise was never broken. Saying I would see this through from beginning to end—in cyberspace—was a promise I made to my invisible audience. That alone got me through even the toughest times.

Thanking those who make me look good

Everything takes time. Everything is complicated. Even the littlest task seems to have sixty-seven sub-tasks, especially in relation to the Internet. I spend the better part of my life on the phone or on-line with "experts" in one specialized area or another: Web sites, shopping carts, blogs, social media, publishers, and more. Every time I think I've solved a problem, I find I have created a new one. Without my technological wizards I would be lost. If I make a mess, they clean it up or provide exactly the advice I need. I marvel at their skills.

Yet, I keep trying to do everything myself. From creating my Web site and setting up my shopping cart to designing my own book, I learned the hard way that I was in over my technological head. Eventually, I ran screaming for the help I should have sought at the outset. This seems like the perfect place to thank those who have come to my rescue again and again.

• Bobette Kyle (marketing and Web guru)
• Peggy Nehmen (book designer)
• Brett Fullmer (ShopSite designer and trainer)
• Denise Wakeman (blog consultant)
• Verio (Web site host and tech support)
• CreateSpace (digital printer)

Savoring Success

After six months of working toward this moment, a carton of 85 copies of Words To Live By has finally arrived. Six months to write, produce, and publish a book, albeit a little book, should be source of satisfaction and pride. When I opened that box, I should been incredibly happy. My friend, Felicia was so excited when she received her newly published books, she called her family and all her friends to announce their arrival. I, on the other hand, was pretty low key. I called my sister, who was also my editor, and e-mailed my daughters.

What's wrong with this picture? I have been pondering my lack excitement for several days. I love my new book. It's beautiful, it's interesting, it was fun to write, and the few people who have read it said they liked it very much. It's not my first book, but it is my most personal. It's a tight little memoir about my career as a writer. I'm told it is inspirational, although that was not my original intention.

I had forgotten the moment of letdown that comes when I finish working on a book. For me, the joy is in the writing, not in having written. I don't think that's typical. Many writers are thrilled to be finished with all that work. I always feel a sense of loss when the creative part of the process is over. I go into a funk, which is part of my transition process before I begin something new.

It helps me to be reminded of what is happening; but now it's time to begin the next phase of the process, which is serious marketing. Before I begin, though, I plan to take today to bask in my accomplishment.

Remembering one of life's important lessons

My discussion group at the Ethical Society spent several hours on Saturday morning involved in a special project. The one we chose was Food Outreach, an organization that provides nutritious meals for people with HIV, AIDS, and cancer. Our group, plus friends and significant others, arrived at 8:00 a.m., donned hats or hairnets, aprons, and surgical gloves and went to work. A room full of volunteers put cooked food in little containers, snapped on lids, and filled trays stacked on tall metal frames. The food was amazing; the people were amazing; the whole morning was amazing.

People moved from chore to chore, doing whatever was needed at that moment. Everyone worked with speed, efficiency, and enthusiasm for almost four hours. The positive energy in that room was palpable. Frankly, I had been worried about standing that long or doing things that required hand dexterity. But I found lots to do that didn't require much of my hands, and standing turned out to be no problem.

This was my first experience with a volunteer project of this magnitude, but the feeling I had when I was finished was enough to tell me it would not be the last. The morning reminded me of a profound but simple life lesson: There is no better use of one's time and energy than doing something that will benefit others.

Next step: A Game Show?

I went to a pot-luck dinner last night and had a wonderful time. The hosts were gracious; the guests were interesting; the food was fabulous. I was totally relaxed and mellow, sitting in a big, comfortable chair with my feet tucked under me, when the worst possible thing happened. The hostess said, "OK, everyone. Now, we're going to play a game."

Would it seem rude if I got up and left with no explanation? Of course it would. (I did it once and don't think the hosts have forgiven me yet. If you're reading this, guys, I am sorry!) Could I go to the bathroom and never come out? Could I simply refuse to play? I was frozen.

What's the big deal? Well, it is my irrational, mysterious aversion to games. Any games. I won't play. Don't ask me. I have been known to become ill and have to bolt from the room. Since there is no explanation, I chalk this up to past-life trauma; but that is hardly something I could say to people I barely knew.

So, I didn't do anything. I just sat there while the hostess explained that everyone loves this game, and they have changed all the rules so it's stress free. All we had to do as pick two cards (any two we like from multiple stacks) and answer the question on each card. We could change the questions, make up a story, do anything we wanted.

The first person answered his question, and his story was delightful. The second, third, and fourth people answered their questions. We were all enchanted. Then it was my turn. "I want your question," I said to the person before me. "Sure. Here," she said and gave me her card. I spun a yarn about growing up on the train because my father was a railroad man. Everyone loved my story. I loved my story.

Eventually the game ended, and we said our goodbyes. As I drove home I realized what I had done. Granted, it wasn't poker or Monopoly or anything really hard. But it was a beginning—a small crack in my aversion's seemingly indestructible armor.

We must relish our victories, no matter how small.

READ the Proof!

Self-publishing is not for the faint of heart. There are more steps than I can count, and it has taken more than twice as long as writing the book. I suppose I could say four times as long, since I am publishing two books simultaneously. This was not my intent, I assure you.

Anyone who tells you print on demand (POD) is a snap has obviously never tried it or is far more skilled at it than I am. After much research (actually, my friend, Felicia, did most of it), I opted for Amazon's CreateSpace. On the positive side, their service is great; on the negative side, their covers curl. Surely I can think of more to say than that. Well, not really.

Everything that has gone wrong has been my mistake, and there have been many of those. I have read, corrected, and printed both books so many times, I'm getting them confused. Every time I get a proof, I find more mistakes. It's unnerving. But it is still better than what happened to a friend of mine who didn't read the proof and thus didn't find all those mistakes.

You guessed it; the book was published just the way it was. All 420 pages.

Paradigm Shift

I have a couple of important people in my life who tell me to keep my expectations low (or have none), so I won't be disappointed. I am beginning to think this is good advice. One of the things that drives me crazy is when I "expect" someone to do what I'm sure I would do under
similar circumstances, and that person doesn't come through. I become instantly disillusioned. Another way to look at it is to expect nothing and always be pleasantly surprised if something good happens.

The other day I received an e-mail from my favorite blog, "Zen Habits." It read, "Today I’m going to suggest a small change in mindset that could change your life ... Think of nothing that happens as either good or bad. Stop judging, and stop expecting."

When you get the same admonition three times in one day, it is probably time to heed these words of wisdom. It's won't be easy, but like all new mindsets, I know it will be possible.

zenhabits@gmail.com zen habits: The Elements of Living Lightly

Why designers, not writers, design books

I have two books that will be published at roughly the same time. This was not really planned because it is clearly insane timing. One is the memoir of my career, Words To Live By: Reflections on the writing life from a 40-year veteran; and the other is the sixth edition of How to Write a Nonfiction Book: From Concept to Completion in 6 Months. Their covers are, in my opinion, fantastic (both designed by Peggy Nehmen). One interior is equally fantastic (also designed by Peggy); the other, while easy to read and understand, is hardly fantastic ("designed" by yours truly).

In its earliest incarnation, How to Write a Nonfiction Book, was a 36-page, 8.5-by-11-inch workbook. It was pretty sparse and meant to be written in by its owner. In the intervening years, it has become 5.5-by-8.5 inches and 136 pages. Its content has been improved and expanded, but—let's fact it—the inside pages lack the panache of a professionally designed book. Peggy graciously reviewed it when it was complete and found about 200 design flaws that "bothered her." I fixed every one, promising myself throughout the process that I will never, NEVER again attempt to design a book.

One look at the two of them side by side clearly demonstrated why designers, not writers, design books.

All Work and No Play

I'm reading a book called Play by Stuart Brown, MD. I started reading it for a project I'm working on and became intrigued, then fascinated, then stunned. I never realized how important play is one's health and vitality.

Consider this observation: "When we stop playing, we stop developing, and when that happens, the laws of entropy take over—things fall apart. Ultimately, we share the fate of the sea squirt and become vegetative, staying in one spot, not fulling interacting with the world, more plant than animal. When we stop playing, we start dying."

That is one sobering thought for a workaholic.

Rx: Get your body moving!

Sometimes, the most important lessons are right under your nose. I am reading a book called SPARK by John J. Ratey, MD with Eric Hagerman at the request of my client. According to Dr. Ratey, "the point of exercise is to build and condition the brain."

There are those who would add several other points. One of them is the physician I saw today about my back. Frankly, I was apprehensive. This was a neurosurgeon, and things are pretty messy back there. In fact, the last doctor I saw about the problem said, "If a surgeon took one look at this MRI he'd have you in the operating room in minutes." Very scary. Also, not so.

This surgeon did look at my MRI and spent considerable time explaining what was going on in my spine. It wasn't a pretty picture. His prescription? One hour of exercise a day. "You're going to have to work at this," he said. I was already convinced.

I wonder if he knows that I will building and conditioning my brain while I'm staving off back surgery.

Overnight success? I doubt it.

I'm always intrigued when I hear about someone who is an "overnight success." It seems they suddenly appeared on the scene or wrote a best seller and took the public by storm. Such stories make it sound like the person woke up that morning, leaped on stage and became an instant American Idol winner. Somehow, I doubt that. What about all the singing lessons or the hours and days spent staring at a blank computer screen, the false starts and rejections, the doubts and redoubled efforts? Few people are born stars; mostly, they work, practice, fail, try again, and, if they are very fortunate, eventually triumph.

Success doesn’t always come in one dramatic leap. Most of the time, it is incremental, one tiny step at a time. Then, one day they look up and think, “Wow, I made it!”

For the Love of Writing

Having a mission in life really helps the decision-making process. A mission is like a constitution. If I'm trying to decide whether to do something, and the choice contributes to my mission, it's a go. If it is in conflict with my mission, I forget it.

Let me be more specific. My personal mission is to help writers write. I believe everyone is a writer, whether he or she realizes it or not. So, a corollary to my mission is to help people move to the next level of their writing lives, whatever that may be. If I have a chance to teach a class in writing, I do it. If someone asks me to do something that has absolutely no relation to helping that person write or tell her story, I decline as gently as possible.

Tonight was the last session of my class in "Writing, Publishing, & Promoting a Nonfiction Book." As always, I loved teaching it and felt somewhat let down when it ended. All six students/potential authors want to take a follow-up class, which is truly gratifying and affirming. Who could ask for more?

The Secret Nobody Keeps

As my little book nears the finish line, I am reminded how many lessons learned and words to live by are tucked into just about every chapter. In forty years, one learns a lot, sometimes without realizing it, sometimes with full awareness of the lesson. Here's one I have learned repeatedly in my life—first from my mother, who just spelled it out; second, from observing the actions of friends and acquaintances; and, finally, from my experience in the business world.

• Never, never lie. To anyone. If you do, the person you lie to, and anyone that person tells (and she will tell everyone in town) will never believe another word you say. Trust is fragile. It takes forever to build it and mere seconds to destroy it.

A few corollaries:

• It's a small world and an even smaller business world.
• Anything you say on line is out there forever, and anyone can access it.
• Whatever your reason, it's not good enough.

The Mind-Body Connection

I'm reading a book on Reversing Fibromyalgia by Dr. Joe M. Elrod and tripping over the names of supplements and alternative-care methods. Most doctors don't even believe fibromyalgia exists (that's frustrating when you have it and you KNOW it exists); and those who do, probably don't have much faith in the idea that it can be reversed. Nonetheless, it is such a pain (literally) to live with, that anything is worth a try. So, I'm reading.

One idea that is hardly new, but slips through the cracks of my memory now and then, is that the mind influences the body. I know that. Harvard Medical School knows that. Chinese and Indian doctors have always known that. And, even slow-to-accept-anything-so-revolutionary western doctors are beginning to admit it might be true. We are all of a piece, not disconnected parts. We manifest our thoughts. If we're stressed out of our minds, our bodies respond. If we believe we can feel better, it might be so.

Laughing, relaxation, deep breathing, biofeedback, mindfulness meditation, TM, massage, exercise, and visualization all help the body heal. It's good to be reminded of something so fundamental when one is pondering this strange malady.

Going "first class"

When I teach, my students always want to know how much it will cost (ballpark) to self-publish a book. I am never able to answer because it depends on so many factors. I've seen friends and clients spend little or nothing to many thousands of dollars. I've held beautiful books and poorly produced books in my hands. I've done it every which way, myself, from having a traditional publisher handle all the production details and paying the freight, to "designing" my own book and having it printed by a digital printing company. But this is the first time I've gone "first class."

My new book has been through all the steps, so far, from idea through layout. What sets it apart from others I've written is very thorough editing by three different editors, its own Web site and shopping cart, a detailed marketing plan, and design and layout by a professional book designer. If nothing else, it will be beautiful! What is also different is that I am more excited about this book than I have ever been.

I've thought it through and decided where I wanted to invest my money. There were, of course, more things to spend it on, but one must make choices. I chose a great designer, and I know I'm going to be very glad I did.

I'd rather do it myself

"Why are you designing your own Web site?" my daughter asked me, as she watched me go crazy with confusion and frustration. "Why don't you just hire a professional to do it for you?"

Why, indeed. Why did I insist on doing it myself? Why did I spend days on the phone with my Web host and shopping cart supplier, trying to figure out what I was doing wrong and how to make it right? Why did I tie knots in my shoulder muscles and walk around with a permanent headache? Why did I let other things go undone while I did this?

The reasons may elude me, but the lesson is clear. The next time I am struggling with a project and hear myself say, "I can do this; I know I can!" I will stop immediately and ask, is this something I do well? Am I going to end up wasting a lot of time and energy? Could someone else do it faster, better, cheaper?

If the answers are yes, yes, and yes, I'm going to yell for help.

Niki's Secret

My friend, Niki, seems to take everything in her stride. She is so easygoing and upbeat—sometimes in the face of events that would depress Pollyanna—I finally asked her to share her secret. I had to know how she achieves such equanimity. She told me she has two guiding principles (I know I am butchering them as I attempt to quote her):

1. You have no idea what's going on, and
2. Whatever you think it is, you are probably wrong.

Talk about words to live by! Think of all the times you've gotten your nose out of joint because a friend made a hurtful remark, the check-out clerk at the grocery store was sullen, your mother criticized your haircut, a client didn't return your call, or someone you don't even know was rude. Did you let it ruin your day, or did you remind yourself you had no idea what was going on behind the scenes of that person's personal drama? It could be any one (or more) of a hundred things, but if you tried to figure it out, chances are you would fail.

I've given a lot of thought to Niki's philosophy—sometimes even at an appropriate moment—and I've come up with a postscript of my own:

3. Whatever happened, it's not about you.

Judgment Call

Everyone is a critic, but that doesn't mean every opinion carries equal weight. Whose judgment counts and whose do not? First and foremost, you have to please yourself. You must love your own work. Second, if you have a client, you have to please that person because he or she is paying you. If you love it, and the client hates it, the client's view trumps yours.

That's it. Two people: you and your client.

Even if 62 other folks weigh in on your work, their opinions may be illuminating or instructive, but in the end, they really don't matter.

Underestimating

When you knock yourself out doing a job that takes way more time and effort than you ever dreamed it would, try to think about what you learned from this mistake. Of course, the key is to apply those lessons the next time you think you know how long a project will take. Chances are this is not the first time you underestimated; and, unless you figure out why you fall into the same trap over and over again, it won't be the last.

Ask yourself a few questions: Are you estimating from experience or off the top of your head? Have you ever done a project like this, or are you in uncharted territory? Do you have a tendency to make everything more complicated than it needs to be? Have you accurately assessed your client? Are you a perfectionist?

It pays—literally—to know the answers.

Murphy's Law

If it can go wrong, it will. If more than one thing can go wrong, they all will. That's just life. So, what are your options? Well, you can bemoan your fate and tell everyone the gruesome details (very few people will honestly care). You can give up and just stop whatever you were trying to do (that may leave you with feelings of failure). Or, if it is a task, you can fix what didn't work, find a way around the glitches, or approach it from a different angle. If it's just a day gone awry, you can slip into a bad mood or shake it off.

There are probably many other options, but the point is that you always have a choice: let Murphy get you down or refuse to grant his little law all that power.

Finding New Meanings

Every experience has a lesson in it. The lesson might be startling, painful, ego deflating, or life altering. It could be a tiny aha moment or a giant revelation, but it always seems to be worth learning.

When one of my friends read my new book, Words To Live By, she got an entirely different meaning from the title than the one I had intended. I thought of the book as a memoir on how I earned my living; she thought of it as lessons learned during each phase of my career. When I viewed it in that light, I could see all the events and experiences that had shaped me as a person.

Overachieving

When you think you have to do it all, all by yourself, think again. Is it really worth the time, energy, effort, and aching back to reinvent the wheel? Are there experts out there who could help you? Of course, there are. Could they do it faster, better, and probably cheaper (in terms of all of the above)? Of course, they could. Ask yourself, am I being creative or compulsive?

As I review my new Web site, ShopSite store, and blog, at the cost of a week of hard work, I'm asking myself those questions. I'm not sure the answer is "creative."