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.