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.