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?