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!"