Anna Blake's Blog, page 53

Living with Animals: That “Crazy” Title

Before moving to the farm, I always had dogs and cats, and usually a bird or two, pushing the legal limit for city dwellers. I planned my life around them: my apartments were pretty marginal, because those were the ones that allowed pets and the dogs needed a yard. I came straight home after work for our supper. My dogs walked me into a good sleep at night. I can’t remember a time that I wasn’t paying off a vet bill on a charge card and I can’t remember a time that sitting on the couch didn’t involve a pile of animals on top of me. Even as close as we all were, I never referred to myself as a pet mom or dad. If you do, that’s wonderful. For me, it always felt a bit like an insult. To them.

It was easy to plan my social life. If my dogs weren’t welcome, I didn’t go. Sure, it was a problem for some people–relatives mainly. Still, no regrets. Families shouldn’t be run like country clubs.

Once I moved to the farm and the horses were settled, more animals arrived pretty quickly. Llamas and goats and who can possibly survive without at least one donkey? When friends looked at the herd quizzically, I reminded them that I didn’t move to the country so I could read more. One day a friend shook her head and said, “What is it, Anna? Is it just that there’s no one here to tell you no?”

That’s when it dawned on me. Exactly. There was something about living here that gave me permission to just stop feeling the rub of judgement–that it was a waste of money and my meager resources. When I was younger, it came with the kid-guilt component–having animals was less worthy. Less respectable.  Other times I was told I’d never have a relationship because animals made me unattractive. Ridiculous. It’s the exact opposite. Animals open doors to a better class of people who are open-minded, compassionate, and of course, required to have a sense of humor.

Here is the question: Is there some age-related moratorium on name-calling for life choices? Some arbitrary age when people give up the idea that animals are a silly pastime that we will eventually outgrow? During the gay marriage debate, one conservative pundit whined that soon we would be marrying our dogs. What rock has he been living under?

Society has names for people like us: a horse-crazy woman. A crazy cat lady. Or maybe it’s silent–that look you get for liking dogs just a little too much. And there’s a shaming that goes with the title, sometimes overt and sometimes subtle. You’re discounted. You’re playing for the wrong team. And you’re an inconvenience because of it.

One of my goals with this book was to maybe better define that “crazy” title a bit by putting words to the qualities we see in animal companions. For some of us, finding trust with animals the very best choice available. It’s not about avoidance; animals attract us to a place that feels inclusive and safe when we get lost. It’s why animal therapy is so effective. They offer us, both men and women, a bit of humanity on the path back to our own species. In the end, it doesn’t matter why we brought animals into the central place in our lives originally. We’re too busy basking in the richness of the multi-species experience to worry about what visitors think about a bowl of cats as a centerpiece on the table.

WEEKLY UPDATE: So far 288 paperbacks have sold in three weeks since the release, thank you very much. Not counting ebooks, because somehow they take 60-90 days to count. The book is finally available in foreign countries from your national Amazon without astronomical shipping costs or long wait times (ironically from a not-Amazon distributor). I have an upcoming media interview, if all goes well, and an invitation to speak about animal welfare (and the book) next month. The Book Talk in Denver is August 7th, please join us. I’m working on a local book talk if there’s interest. And I am still sending out signed Thank-you-bookmarks, if you’d like one. For more information on any of this, or if you have any PR ideas for me, use the contact link at the top of the page. And thank you.

Just between us, I find my new part-time marketing job a bit stressful and confusing but I won’t stop now.  I still need your help. I fear I’m coming near the end of my reach and soon the book will sink like a rock, so I ask again… Please leave a review, even one word, to keep the book in the rankings. Please tell your friends, even those without fur family. If there is a group that you influence, consider suggesting Stable Relation there. If this story touched you, please keep it going. If you have been rescued by an animal, or misunderstood for loving them, this is one way to pay it forward.

Do you walk a tight rope because some members of your family have too much hair? Does your human family roll their eyes behind your back, wishing that you would do something normal–like join Scientology or at the very least, invest in a lint brush? Well, be patient with them because there truly is something we know that they don’t. Thankfully.

STABLE RELATION is available at all online books sources, including Amazon (here).

Thank You Cards and a Book Event!

It isn’t that I never learned to say thank you. You can bet I did. I just never knew about sending thank you cards.

By my middle twenties I had received one or two of them in the mail. As I looked at the words on that small card, I just marveled: gratitude in plain sight. What a cool idea. I tried sending one and it felt just as good from that side. Who knew?

One day while bragging about writing one, which kinda defeats the purpose by the way, a friend told me it was a thing; a task she had been tediously schooled in since childhood. I added this hole in my development to my growing list of shortcomings. It was depressing but I discovered Hagen Daz ice cream around the same time. Life has a way of balancing things out.

Spirit, my Grandfather Horse, has a file folder of thank you cards from little girls who have ridden him over the years. You can tell they were not a forced task. Most have crayon drawings and childish crooked letters. There are lots of hearts. My favorite one came during a December, after a miserable lead-line ride in icy sleet. The girl’s little jaw quivered just below her smile but she was no quitter. Later that week, the thank you note came in the mail. It was a drawing of a white horse with a Christmas tree on one side and a menorah on the other. It was irresistibly inclusive.

Now, as my Grandfather Horse is frail with age, I wanted to add a note of my own to his thank you file. I started writing but the thank you note got a little long-winded. I didn’t want to slight anybody. I named it Stable Relation and it has spawned a contagious frenzy of thank you notes. I am knocked back by the positive response. Everyone is being so kind and I’ve never said thank you more happily. I sound like a broken record and still, the words don’t feel loud enough. THANK YOU! See what I mean?

Have you read the reviews on Amazon? They are perceptive and articulate. I wish I had them when I was struggling with writing my book description. You all found the words I searched for and each one has a slightly different take. Kind of like a discussion at book club.

A couple of friends said the reviews are so well-written that they were a bit daunted to add their own. Please, even as I am floating on these kind reviews, I’ll still ask you to take a minute and post a sentence or two about the book on Amazon and Goodreads. It’s the best way for a self-published nobody like me to catch the attention of book readers and pundits outside my circle. Word of mouth is the magic.

The book will have a life of its own, earned by its own merit. I just want to wind up and give it a mighty throw here at the beginning and I need your help to do it. If you like it or hate it, please cast your vote. The magic number to reach is 50 reviews and there are 15 now. It’s a big number to hit, but I’m optimistic. And thank you. Again.

WEEKLY UPDATE: I have been in a daze–last Thursday my farm was damaged by a flood. We’re all fine but debris tore some fences out and the arena washed away. But each time I got to the computer, there was be a new review or a posting on FB that praised the book. I let all the good and all the less-than-good wash over me. Lots of flooding.

Book sales are a bit over 230, thanks to all of you. That’s amazing considering the short time the book has been available, with no paid publicity.  I have Little Engine That Could fantasies. But my favorite part has been people posting photos of their book as it arrived. You all are a creative bunch, so thank you for the fun.

UPCOMING BOOK EVENTS: There’s a book talk/signing in Denver on Friday, August 7th at 6pm. If you’d like to join us, contact me for an invitation. This will be my author coming-out party–a first for me. I’m looking forward to it; my friend Lauren is hosting. Thanks, Lauren. Beyond that Tracey and I are planning a Yoga/Book talk event in the Springs, combining two of my favorite things. Thanks, Tracey. And later a trip to a bookstore in Buena Vista, date TBA.  And more events as they are scheduled.

Finally, because I aspire to be that person who sends the note, I had thank you bookmarks printed up–seen in the photo above with the flood survivor. I would love to thank you personally. Contact me link at the top of this page and send your address, along with your name. It would be my pleasure to write a tiny note and send it to you. Because it does mean so much that you all have taken the chance along with me. So, yet again, thank you.

Crowdfunding–The Old-fashioned Kind.

My friend Coy is on vacation with Stable Relation. Here they are at the airport.

I admit I came a little unglued last Friday when Michelle, half-way across the country, posted a photo of the book on a tablecloth that did not belong to me. I got nervous, like it had broken in to her house or something. Now it’s getting easier. This airport photo only made me snort tea, but in a good way. *Book-as-traveling-Gnome*

Really, it’s time for me to let go. It’s up to all of you now. Time for me to kick back and just nag and yelp from the sidelines.

When I was in production, lots of people asked me if I was going to crowdfund the project. To tell the truth, the idea made my throat close a bit. If marketing makes me uncomfortable, asking for money would make me pass-clean-out. Part of it was habit. After 35 years of funding my own gallery work, I guess I think it’s my job. Well, the buck stops here. Literally. This is where I ask–well, grovel really–for your help. Here’s how; it’s kind of like a pyramid scheme.

First, please read my book. It’s available right now. If a certain number of books sell within a relative period of time, then Google and Stable Relation start to have a thing. If it’s more than a one night stand, it might turn into a long term relationship. Google is the dream boyfriend.

Maybe after you’ve read it, you’ll think, “Dang, she didn’t just ramble on for 240 pages about nothing but horses. When the surprise wears off, you might think your non-horse friends would like it, too, because it’s a story that’s pretty universal. If so, then please tell your friends because there is nothing better than word-of-mouth. Consider it verbal crowdfunding–the very best way to sell anything.

And then, as if that isn’t enough, please consider taking a moment to write a review. Be honest, even if you don’t like it, (and I know some people won’t.) Be as honest as a horse. I can take it; this is not my first rodeo. Love it, or give me one star and say, “Ick.” But reviews, good or bad and just a sentence or two long, make a huge impact. It’s a numbers game on the other side and numbers draw attention. Post the review on Amazon and Goodreads, pretty please. Cut and paste works fine. If I can manage to get 50 reviews, there are people trapped in dark offices in basements who will lift their squinty eyes up toward a flickering fluorescent light fixture and say, “Huh?” Sometimes it’s even followed by a yellow-toothed grin. It’s a huge deal for me and the book. Please write a review and post it twice. Then drop by Barnes and Noble for good measure. I will be embarrassingly grateful.

Are you an Influencer? I just recently learned the term; they are people who are willing to be a Boss Mare; meaning willing to move other people’s feet and encourage groups of people to read my book. You could suggest it at your book club or send an email about the book to your contact list or post about it on social media. I’m available to talk to groups; you could invite your friends and associates to a reading/book signing like Lauren is doing in Denver.

I did recently receive invitations to both New Zealand and Norway. It’s very flattering but it’s hard to figure out the math; having me to book club gets expensive on other continents. Besides, I have to keep an eye on a couple of elders here at the farm. For now, I’m looking into online and local opportunities so I can get back in time to feed. How hard can a podcast be?

Help with whatever you are comfortable with, but please vote for Stable Relation early and often. Every mention and every book sale helps. Every. Single. One.

Weekly Report: At this point, 109 books have sold. Thank you! It’s great news considering its release date is next week. (Right now Amazon and Barnes & Noble have it, but the eBook is only at Amazon. I working to get the listings complete.) But it’s wonderful to have these sales. I don’t have that many friends, so it means that more than my locals have bought it. Yay! At the same time, I am fairly sure there are worlds of possible readers I haven’t found yet.

Because you asked, yes, I’m happy to sign your book, if you want to mail them to me. It costs about $4.00 each way, but I promise to send it right back. The other alternative is that I had some printed bookmarks made up. They have the cover image on one side and room on the back to sign. I am happy to sign one of those and mail it if you like. Use the contact form above for information on either option.

Finally, send me a postcard from the road. I mean it; if you travel with Stable Relation, even if it’s just out to the barn, send me a photo. Let’s have some fun.

The Runaway Book Launch.

I had a plan. Not that it matters, but I did.

Every time I arrive to give a riding lesson or work a horse, I think it out and I have a plan. Then the horse has input to consider. Then the rider. I think I stick to my original plan a solid 10% of the time.

Getting my memoir ready was no different. It was like loading the starting gate at a horse race. There is the eBook from BookBaby. They do the best distribution and take the lowest commission. Then the Ingram Spark print version that will be available at Barnes and Noble and other online stores, and is also the best for international distribution. And finally Amazon. They are the undeniable elephant in the room that I can’t ignore, but the rest of the book world thinks they are trying to monopolize the industry. Come to think of it, I agree. So I was gingerly loading all these horses who don’t like each other much into the starting gate, trying to get a safe, smart launch for my book… when Amazon broke and bolted. It was a clean runaway.

I could stomp my foot and complain, but I think I have to try to catch up as quickly as I can and pretend it was my idea all along.

The details: It will soon be available on all other online vendors, both paperback and ebook formats. If you want the book fast, it’s Amazon (link here), and order away. It’ll come fast. Within the next week, the ebook will be there as well, but it isn’t right now. And eventually  both versions will trickle down to everywhere else… If you are confused, I understand, and if you have a question, contact me with the link at the top of the page.

And in the end, writing and riding are again more similar than not. Have a plan, be prepared to change that plan, as a matter of course, but then tuck it all away and be alive in the moment. Stable Relation has launched, it’s up to the words now. Run fast and true.

Let me know what you think. I know not everyone will like it, and I want to hear those comments, too. Be as honest as a horse and I will respect you just that well.

Thanks, everyone, for your wild, door-rushing sprint to order. It has turned this runaway into a joy ride!

The Yin-Yang of the In Between. (Book release July 13th.)

Remember at the end of the first Terminator movie when all the flesh was burned off Arnold and the shiny metal skeleton-that-would-not-die was climbing the ladder, with his eyes glowing green, still hunting his prey? That’s pretty close to how I felt last week.

Now it’s a pre-launch flop sweat; this week it’s more like that feeling you get on a roller coaster after that long slow chug-pull to the top of the first hill. There’s an instant between when the metal gears stop the pulling, but just before the first gut-dropping hill; it’s a quiet second before the coaster clangs metal-to-metal as it slams against the rail and the free-fall begins. In that still second you know you can’t go back, and no matter how wildly you throw your arms up over your head and scream a howling yodel, but there’s no getting off until the ride is over.

So, sure, I’m fine. Just fine.

Technology has changed publishing totally. These days warehouses are no longer stacked to the rafters with boxes of books published but languishing for lack of sales. Print on demand is the most common method now–it’s easier on the trees, too. Production is lightning fast and so the proof that the printers send to authors for approval is the actual, literal book. Exactly like it will look in real life.

So I have a copy of Stable Relation. When I opened the box and saw it for the first time, I didn’t squeal or do a one-footed happy dance. To tell the truth, I was inside that quiet pause at the top of the roller coaster.

Since then I’ve kept my book proof in the truck with me on the passenger seat, where I can casually glance at it while I drive. I wanted the cover to have a sort of yin-yang feel because it’s so common in life that the light-dark, good-bad, anticipation-dread balance resides within the same small instant. I tried to describe that in the book. When I stop at a light, I open Stable Relation to a random page and pretend I don’t know every single word by heart. I read a paragraph as if I’m a stranger and try to hear it for the first time. I try to see it through your eyes.

And then, in that same yin-yang sort of way, I try to decide if I’m more worried about success or failure, while I look down and check to see if I’m wearing my underwear on the outside of my clothes. Again.

Like I said, I’m just fine. Maybe we all have nine lives just like cats. I know I used one when I moved here to my farm fifteen years ago. I might be using another one right now.

The update: This week Amazon foiled my master plan for world domination. You aren’t surprised; they invented the game. But the eBook version still needs just a bit of tweaking and I haven’t been able to convince GoodReads that I exist yet. While I work that out, I’m going to send the first chapter out in the newsletter. (Sign up for it here if you haven’t.) I think developing a leak might feel good.

And in an effort to outwit Amazon, I’m moving the release date closer! STABLE RELATION release date is JULY 13TH. Monday!

Just ten days away. That’s when the roller coaster pulls to a stop on the platform, we disembark, check our underwear, and all act normal again. Of course, normal is relative.

Weekly Photo Challenge: Muse

Originally posted on Horses |AnnaBlakeBlog | Equestrian:

Sometimes I see a father playing with his child, tossing her in the air and catching her, holding her tight to his chest. Then my heartbeat feels tight in my own chest and I think of Spirit. He did that toss and catch with me. –Anna Blake, Stable Relation

He’s old and sway-back, he casts a long shadow, but he never stands alone. My Grandfather Horse is more than a muse; part of him is in everything I write. Never want to miss a chance to say thank you. Do you owe a debt to a horse?

Anna Blake, Infinity Farm.

Stable Relation: A memoir of the farm I grew up on, the farm I have now, and the horse who carried me in between. Available at book sellers July 15, 2015. To get updates and the inside story, sign up here: Prairie Moon News. Thank you.

(WordPress…

View original 42 more words

Gifted Balls, and a Date to Hold.

A few weeks ago, a woman called me for horse boarding information. She was looking for a place for a couple of minis. I explained that I only boarded horses who were in training with me. We talked about the challenge of minis–there is no sliding scale of care. They may be small but they need everything an imported warmblood needs, so quoting a price was tough. The caller knew minis; she had a equine-assisted therapy program and worked with disabled kids. She couldn’t take the minis in because they hadn’t been handled and were out of control, truth be told. It wouldn’t be safe to have them at her barn.

They weren’t her minis; they belonged to a woman she was trying to help and she knew they really needed training, not that the owner was willing to pay for either training or board, even though she had the money. That was the real problem.

It was a mess, but it wasn’t the caller’s mess. On a whim, I asked her if she considered saying no–that maybe this person was taking advantage of her kindness. The caller immediately agreed, saying the woman was always manipulative and against her better judgement, she couldn’t say no. She’d been feeling mad at herself but still calling around for hours. Then she apologized again.

Women. We are amazing creatures. We do the work of twenty non-profits before lunch.

I told her she didn’t need to apologize and congratulated her on her own important work; it wasn’t her job to be responsible for the irresponsible mini owner. She agreed that the owner was plenty capable of making calls. About that time the tone of the conversation changed to the extreme. She got cheerful. Being off the hook made her giggly. Then she blurted out something that the previous conversation didn’t prepare me for.

“Thank you,” she said. “For giving me the balls to say no.”

I laughed hard enough to spit. Her candor surprised me: talking about balls isn’t profanity, but it did take some to mention them. As for me, it was a skill I didn’t know I had. The tension broken, we laughed together like old friends but after she hung up, the thought remained… Why even use this weird word choice for confidence? Does male energy say no easier? I know they usually apologize less.

Then I daydreamed about my new superpower. To whom would I bestow balls? Would it be a ceremony with candles and dark robes and harp music? But that mental image got mixed up with a few too many colt castrations. You see the dilemma? An over-active time-traveling memory.

NEWS: Finally. Real. Progress. My book designer, Jane Dixon-Smith sent me files for the cover and interior design. Then I screwed up my courage and with the use of borrowed balls, I uploaded the book interior and cover to Ingram, largest book publisher on the planet. There were pages of money details, book descriptions, and general fussiness but when it came time for the monumental upload, it was anti-climactic. It took about a minute longer than putting a photo on Facebook. Hardly something to get clammy balls about, especially thirty-one months into the project.

THE BOOK RELEASE DATE IS JULY 15TH. NO KIDDING. STABLE RELATION AVAILABLE IN REAL LIFE.

Details will follow but there is still so much to do. I need to get author pages up at Amazon and Goodreads. I’m studying up on marketing, trying to pick the right keywords for Google, and I still have lists of to-do lists. This is a huge investment and I want to get it right.

But then sometimes the fourth wall breaks. It’s a theater term for that time in a movie or play when the lead character looks straight at you, breaking that suspension of disbelief we all wear to the movies, and directly addresses the audience. When it happens to me, and I want to self-consciously say, “Can you believe I’m actually doing this? How strange am I being? Because I’m working without a net here…”

But then I remember–one more time– that I have balls. You all gave them to me in these last months. If I sound remotely brave, it’s your balls talking.

Thank you, they’re serving me well, and if I can ever return the favor, just ask.

Stable Relation release date is July 15th.

Judging a Book by its Cover.

Designing a cover. No big deal really.

First, you spend heart and soul telling a story, early mornings and late nights when it would be easier to do almost anything else. Sound dramatic? Sitting alone at a desk can be dramatic, it turns out. Some days there are fist pumps in the air and tears stream down your cheeks and you howl at the moon because the words fall into perfect sense. Other days turn into a week, staring at one paragraph. One.

Then, when you’re a few months in, it occurs to you that you’ve left out the part of the story that defines the rest of the story. It’s the backstory, and just like the heart in your chest, it’s what pumps all of the energy from one place to another. So you start over.

Do I sound obsessed? Because it’s the only way this storytelling thing works, as far as I can tell. Oh, and one other thing: you have to actually have something to say that you don’t lose track of under all those words.

Okay, the first draft is done and it’s time to edit, to get the focus cleaner, to cut closer to the bone. You add parts that scare you. At the same time, you “kill your darlings.” You cut four chapters out entirely. Good chapters, but you want the story to run fast and light as a filly. You stitch your words to a deeper truth, the one that transcends personal experience because that’s the only reason anyone would want to read about your little life. And because if this story comes off as trivial you will have failed; you will have done a disservice to the gifts you have been given. Your thank you will not be heard. Months pass, seasons change. Your dogs think you aren’t as much fun as you used to be.

When you think it’s close to good, you hire strangers, editors, and let them sift through your guts. Your precious words come back with red ink and “Why should I care?” on the top of pages. When the bile goes back down your throat, you find better words and re-write the story to lead the reader to caring. Gently, secretly, because you can’t push. Readers hate being lectured as much as you hate red ink.

You hire three professional edits from three different editors over the course of a year, scraping the money together, until you hear back just what you wanted to hear. It’s good. Really good. You lose count of the number of re-writes but it continues, maybe one word choice in a chapter, until each of the 79,000 words is arranged just the way you intended. As easy as herding cats.

You can tell you’ve become a wing-nut but you’re powerless to stop the free-fall. Friends are decidedly nervous. You could have built a sailboat and gone around the world by now, but that’s not your dream and you’re still sitting at your desk. Twenty four months have passed and against the common sense any introvert is born with, you actually want others to read it. It sounds crazy-dangerous in your own head, but that’s all. Just read it.

Imagine the shock when it dawns on you that we actually do judge a book by its cover. And all of your effort is distilled down to this over-used cliche. Each one of your perfectly chosen words is perched on one side of a teeter-totter and one measly cover image weighs heavily on the other side. It’s a pass-fail test: if the cover doesn’t work, no one will ever see the words. It all comes down to a first impression; a second in time. No pressure.

Then you hear Rick’s voice in your head; Bogart in Casablanca, “Ilsa, I’m no good at being noble, but it doesn’t take much to see that the problems of three little people don’t amount to a hill of beans in this crazy world.”

Get over yourself and pick a cover. This is it, I’m betting my book on it. No big deal really.

(For inside information sooner, click on the newsletter link at the top of the page.)

Gatekeepers and Temple Grandin

I went to hear Temple Grandin speak this week. I’m not sure how many times I’ve seen her now, but she’s my hero. There are a million reasons to love her; for what she’s done for animal understanding and welfare, and for people with autism, but also for her confident opinions and one-of-a-kind self. It can’t have been easy. She has made not fitting in an art form. Over the years, she seems a bit more comfortable, or maybe we are more accepting of her, but now at 67, she’s a live wire. A force of nature. She has a lot to say and she says it fast!

Living with her particular autism has given Temple Grandin a voice to admire, not that she hasn’t paid for it. But then, don’t we all pay a price for what we say or don’t say? Pay a price for who we are?

I first met Temple Grandin while reading her book Animals in Translation: Using the Mysteries of Autism to Decode Animal Behavior. Her words filled a gap for me; she gave me a more positive way to see my own species. Like her, I’m extremely visual and I struggled with people, thinking that we all “saw” the same thing. When she described how her brain worked, I recognized it. I’m not autistic, but I didn’t know our method of thinking was different until she explained how most people think. She almost made too much sense.

Like the rest of us, Temple Grandin bumped up against Gatekeepers: people who maintained the status quo. But sometimes the standard practice needs improvement, so she found a way around roadblocks to do her work. Change is hard; shaking up the status quo, whether it’s mainstreaming autistic kids or saying slaughter houses need to be re-designed from the bottom up, is going to agitate people.

Gatekeepers have a purpose; there is a value to order and tradition, and at the same time, growth and evolution is inevitable. In publishing, the tradition is that a few publishers have control over what books come out. Authors are powerless, hoping to get a nod of validation, even as the ocean of manuscripts totally drowns publishers every day of the year.

There are well-worn stories of rejection and redemption, but do you ever think about the ones that got away? The Pulitzer manuscripts stuffed into drawers? When I studied art history, I was always left wondering about painters who were not men or who didn’t have a patron. How many possible Old Masters were just never discovered? How many women painted secretly? Somewhere in the soup, there is luck. Just dumb luck.

Technology is blowing the publishing industry apart right now. No one knows what’s next. Traditional publishers are resisting the change, previously published authors who have a stack of rejections are considering taking another path, and anyone can upload an eBook to Amazon and be an author in an hour, with not so much as a spell-check required. It’s chaos.

Temple Grandin says, “What would happen if the autism gene was eliminated from the gene pool? You would have a bunch of people standing around in a cave, chatting and socializing and not getting anything done.” The person who doesn’t fit the norm might be the best thing that ever happened.

My week in self-publishing: I’ve heard from two small presses in the last two weeks. Each asked if my manuscript was still available. It doesn’t mean they want it; they just took longer to say maybe. Part of my brain says, “Wait, give them a few months and maybe they will want it–most likely with a few story line changes and a new title. Maybe they will make my book legitimate.” The other side says, “Just do it.”

So the learning curve continues. It’s been a week of ISBN numbers and formatting questions. What size should the book be, what kind of binding and production, and how will I promote it? My newsletter is coming together. The first cover reveal will be there and a sneak peek at a chapter or two. I’m studying up on giveaways. If you want the inside skinny on my book, sign up on the link at the top of the page.

Two days ago I met a person who looked at me with disdain for self-publishing, probably assuming I was another idiot who couldn’t use spell-check and didn’t deserve publishing. It’s a Catch-22. I don’t have a physical book so I can’t ask her to reconsider.

Maybe some of us were never good candidates for fitting in. Maybe self-publishing is a better fit for someone who believes her right to a voice shouldn’t be dependent on the judgment of others. (No surprise it’s a theme in Stable Relation as well.)

Is there something simmering inside of you, too? I dare you… take a cue from Temple Grandin.  Be the real, weird, funny, smart, and utterly beautiful person you are, and then speak up. Like a force of nature.

 

Friendship and Honesty

“Stop it, can’t you just smile? You’re so much prettier when you smile.”

My mother was right on one level. Putting a smile on your face can change your mood. But I was just a kid and in our house, there was a different intention. Sullen children made people nervous and it was just the start of the business of learning how to behave. I grew up in a “seen and not heard” home; a “keep the secret” home. Not that unusual at all.

It’s isn’t like teaching kids to lie, exactly. It’s more like the introduction to a world of false walls. We learn passive aggressive behaviors: if we’re honest, people won’t like us, so in order to get our way, it’s smarter to manipulate the facts a bit. It’s a woman’s super-power. It’s even acceptable to avoid an awkward situation by telling a white lie, if you can convince yourself it’s for someone’s well-being. It seems kind, maybe even smart in the beginning. But pretty soon the white lies take on all sorts of colors and the layers of passive deception become a stiff overlay of uncomfortable anxiety. Then one day you wake up and you’re a politician.

Some of us have an exaggerated sense of the truth–a phrase that a future ex-husband of mine once used to describe me to our therapist. A kinder word for that is honesty. It’s rare enough to seem like a personality disorder.

True to form, one if the first things THEY tell you, THEY, meaning the authorities in the publishing world, is never listen to anything your friends or family say about your writing. People who love you have no taste, don’t understand the writing world, and are the last people who will be honest. Never ever listen to a word. No. Period.

Fourteen months into this book process, I had lost perspective. I asked an incredibly difficult task of a tiny-few of my friends. I chose them carefully: they should be serious readers, balanced thinkers, and straight talkers, while being a range of ages, politics and backgrounds. I am fortunate to say, I have friends who fall easily into all these categories. Early, fragile drafts of my book were mailed out for their comments. It wasn’t from a desire for flattery. I needed the truth and I preferred it come from people I could trust.

I knew I was asking a lot time-wise, but in hindsight, I didn’t appreciate the full challenge. Neither did my friends, but it might have dawned on all of us about the same time. It was pretty awkward–like waking up naked in a strange apartment. We all chose our words carefully. Vulnerability is a huge strength–just like honesty. Their feedback was precious to me; the praise and the criticism.

It was about then that I remembered what THEY said about not listening to friends. Am I so crazy that I would just discount experts in this fast-changing field, dispensing what was obviously common sense advice? Who should I trust?

You’re right. Some things aren’t meant for one-size-fits-all approach.

This week I’m writing the last page of my book–the acknowledgment page. It’s a landmark; a privilege to get to this place. I’m feeling mushy about it, in a crush note written in pink ink with hand-drawn hearts and flowers sort of way. I’ll try not to embarrass all of us.

Then maybe I’ll begin a new habit of randomly writing acknowledgement pages just so I can remember how good it feels to let my friends hold me up for an hour. How would yours start?