Sunday, May 23, 2010

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.

Sunday, May 16, 2010

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.

Monday, May 10, 2010

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.

Sunday, May 2, 2010

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

Saturday, May 1, 2010

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.