Mark R. Hunter's Blog, page 63
December 6, 2016
There is too such a thing as bad publicity … but not today
Apparently the interview with me ran on 93.1 WIBC: Early yesterday I received a small flurry of book orders through the website, and at the same time my Amazon author ranking suddenly jumped to higher than it’s been since February, 2014. (And no, I have no idea what happened in February, 2014.)
It just goes to show: You never know when your promotion efforts are going to pay off. And I still don’t know. When a media outlet receives a press release, is it picked up, as in this case, by someone with an interest in history, humor, and trivia? Or does my e-mail get opened the next day by someone whose girlfriend just broke up with them? Who saw the title Hoosier Hysterical just after being called “hysterical” by that very same girlfriend? Who finds subtitles offensive? Holy cow—all my non-fiction works have a subtitle! I might as well call my next book Kiss of Death: How Subtitles Ruined My Writing Career.
I can always find a way to turn good news into paralyzing fear.
That’s why I do book signings, even though the time put into planning and promotion doesn’t usually match the income: You never know what it will lead to. One person hears about it even if they don’t attend; they tell a friend who’s into that kind of writing; they buy a book, then another that they give to their friend, who just happens to be the cousin of a New York book editor; and bam! Six figure contract.
It could happen.
Plus, it’s fun to meet people, even if it’s people you already know. But that brings me full circle, because if people don’t know about the book signing … well, there you go. That’s why I say things like “Come to the Noble Art Gallery in Albion, this Saturday between 1-5 p.m.!” It’s not because I want to annoy you. It’s to open up the possibilities.
https://www.facebook.com/events/10248...
It just goes to show: You never know when your promotion efforts are going to pay off. And I still don’t know. When a media outlet receives a press release, is it picked up, as in this case, by someone with an interest in history, humor, and trivia? Or does my e-mail get opened the next day by someone whose girlfriend just broke up with them? Who saw the title Hoosier Hysterical just after being called “hysterical” by that very same girlfriend? Who finds subtitles offensive? Holy cow—all my non-fiction works have a subtitle! I might as well call my next book Kiss of Death: How Subtitles Ruined My Writing Career.
I can always find a way to turn good news into paralyzing fear.
That’s why I do book signings, even though the time put into planning and promotion doesn’t usually match the income: You never know what it will lead to. One person hears about it even if they don’t attend; they tell a friend who’s into that kind of writing; they buy a book, then another that they give to their friend, who just happens to be the cousin of a New York book editor; and bam! Six figure contract.
It could happen.
Plus, it’s fun to meet people, even if it’s people you already know. But that brings me full circle, because if people don’t know about the book signing … well, there you go. That’s why I say things like “Come to the Noble Art Gallery in Albion, this Saturday between 1-5 p.m.!” It’s not because I want to annoy you. It’s to open up the possibilities.
https://www.facebook.com/events/10248...
December 3, 2016
Me on the radio, somewhere in Indiana
I’ve done an interview about Hoosier Hysterical: How the West Became the Midwest Without Moving At All with an Indianapolis radio station, 93.1 WIBC. Just to prove it really exists:
http://www.wibc.com/
https://www.facebook.com/93wibc
Once I got over the mind-numbing terror, I really had a good time talking with Terri Stacy, who seemed to have a genuine interest in Hoosier history and trivia. I don’t know when (or if, because things happen) the interview ran or will run, so if anyone happens to catch it, please let me know.
Terri also said she’d send the story along to the statewide news organization that WIBC is affiliated with, Network Indiana—so if all goes well, the interview could turn up anywhere in the state.
http://www.networkindiana.com/
http://www.wibc.com/
https://www.facebook.com/93wibc
Once I got over the mind-numbing terror, I really had a good time talking with Terri Stacy, who seemed to have a genuine interest in Hoosier history and trivia. I don’t know when (or if, because things happen) the interview ran or will run, so if anyone happens to catch it, please let me know.
Terri also said she’d send the story along to the statewide news organization that WIBC is affiliated with, Network Indiana—so if all goes well, the interview could turn up anywhere in the state.
http://www.networkindiana.com/
December 1, 2016
The traditional press release
Traditionally I post my author appearance press releases here, and is this not a traditional time of the year? So here's what I sent out to various newspapers, radio stations, TV stations, and all the ships at sea, and it might even end up being used somewhere. If you want to use it--you're welcome to.
However, I would discourage you from starting up your own TV station for the sole purpose of displaying my press release on the screen. You'd be surprised at the initial investment, plus there's the whole part about actual programming.
---------------------------------------------------------
December 11th will mark the 200th anniversary of the state of Indiana’s formation, and two Hoosier authors are celebrating a day early with an appearance in downtown Albion.
Mark R. Hunter’s newest book, written with his wife Emily, is all about Indiana, and created with the bicentennial in mind. Hoosier Hysterical: How the West Became the Midwest Without Moving At All, is a tongue-in-cheek look at Hoosier History, personalities, and trivia. The Hunters spent almost two years researching and touring the state, and the book is illustrated with photos they took on their travels.
The Hunters already collaborated on two local history books: Images of America: Albion and Noble County, and Smoky Days and Sleepless Nights: A Century or So With the Albion Fire Department. In addition, Mark Hunter has five other published books, four of them fictional works set in Indiana.
Mark and Emily will be appearing from 1-5 p.m. December 10th at the Noble Art Gallery, 100 E. Main Street, in Albion. The gallery holds the works of artist/owner Dan Gagen, as well as over twenty other area talents, and features items ranging from wall art to jewelry and pottery. They also have the books by the Hunters, who have visited twice before.
In addition, the event will serve to unveil Mark Hunter’s newest novel, which is scheduled to be published March 7, 2017 by Torrid books. Hunter hasn’t announced the book’s title, but its cover has been approved and will be on display at the appearance, along with all of his previous books.
Hoosier Hysterical and all the Hunters’ books can be found at http://markrhunter.com/, and on Amazon at http://www.amazon.com/Mark-R-Hunter/e....
Mark R Hunter can also be found on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/MarkRHunter/, and on Twitter at @MarkRHunter
However, I would discourage you from starting up your own TV station for the sole purpose of displaying my press release on the screen. You'd be surprised at the initial investment, plus there's the whole part about actual programming.
---------------------------------------------------------
December 11th will mark the 200th anniversary of the state of Indiana’s formation, and two Hoosier authors are celebrating a day early with an appearance in downtown Albion.
Mark R. Hunter’s newest book, written with his wife Emily, is all about Indiana, and created with the bicentennial in mind. Hoosier Hysterical: How the West Became the Midwest Without Moving At All, is a tongue-in-cheek look at Hoosier History, personalities, and trivia. The Hunters spent almost two years researching and touring the state, and the book is illustrated with photos they took on their travels.
The Hunters already collaborated on two local history books: Images of America: Albion and Noble County, and Smoky Days and Sleepless Nights: A Century or So With the Albion Fire Department. In addition, Mark Hunter has five other published books, four of them fictional works set in Indiana.
Mark and Emily will be appearing from 1-5 p.m. December 10th at the Noble Art Gallery, 100 E. Main Street, in Albion. The gallery holds the works of artist/owner Dan Gagen, as well as over twenty other area talents, and features items ranging from wall art to jewelry and pottery. They also have the books by the Hunters, who have visited twice before.
In addition, the event will serve to unveil Mark Hunter’s newest novel, which is scheduled to be published March 7, 2017 by Torrid books. Hunter hasn’t announced the book’s title, but its cover has been approved and will be on display at the appearance, along with all of his previous books.
Hoosier Hysterical and all the Hunters’ books can be found at http://markrhunter.com/, and on Amazon at http://www.amazon.com/Mark-R-Hunter/e....
Mark R Hunter can also be found on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/MarkRHunter/, and on Twitter at @MarkRHunter
November 29, 2016
Because I’m slow, that’s why
In an earlier post I mentioned trying to come up with original ideas to promote author appearances; I’ve now done over 734 thousand of them, and have a new one coming up December 10th. My newest book, as all fourteen of my regular readers know, is Hoosier Hysterical, a humorous look at the history, people, and trivia of Indiana. The signing at the Noble Art Gallery will be the third since Hoosier Hysterical came out, and also the third appearance I’ve put in at Dan Gagen’s gallery in downtown Albion.
What hook could I use to get people to come? The first thing I thought of is to have the cover reveal of my new novel there, and that’s great, but I wanted something more.
Then I realized the bicentennial of Indiana’s official formation is December 11th—just one day after the book signing.
And what inspired me to write the book was the upcoming bicentennial.
Say it with me, now: “Duh.”
So, the Facebook event details are now on my FB writer’s page, along with the hooks. While you’re checking it out, please like my page!
https://www.facebook.com/events/10248...
What hook could I use to get people to come? The first thing I thought of is to have the cover reveal of my new novel there, and that’s great, but I wanted something more.
Then I realized the bicentennial of Indiana’s official formation is December 11th—just one day after the book signing.
And what inspired me to write the book was the upcoming bicentennial.
Say it with me, now: “Duh.”
So, the Facebook event details are now on my FB writer’s page, along with the hooks. While you’re checking it out, please like my page!
https://www.facebook.com/events/10248...
November 27, 2016
R.I.P., Uncle Paul
My Uncle Paul Hunter passed away yesterday; he had been under treatment for cancer in the hospital at the University of Kentucky, which coincidentally is where he attended college. Prayers would be appreciated for my Aunt Jewell, their kids, and all the family.
My dad beat cancer a few years ago, and my brother this year, and I had a scare myself awhile back; but this time it was the disease that ultimately won. We can only grieve, remember, and work toward a cure.
When I was a kid, Paul and Jewell’s house was next to Mama and Papa’s, so they got a lot of spillover guests during family get-togethers—and with nine brothers and sisters in the family, the get-togethers could get pretty big. It was in a hollow in the area of Mousie, Kentucky; I haven’t visited for some time because I’ve heard the area has changed a great deal, and I’d rather remember it as it was.
I don’t recall now the name of the hollow or what road it’s on, but I remember sitting on my grandparents’ big front porch, looking down toward Paul and Jewell’s house and past it to the big mountain that rose in the distance—well, big to me, an Indiana boy. It was uphill on either side, too, and to visit relatives you’d walk up the narrow road, past houses built in single file. Just about everybody had a big porch, and the adults would sit there, sometimes snipping green beans, while they got caught up. The kids would play in the yards, climb the hills, and watch for ticks.
It’s funny what you remember from your kid-hood. Even back then, I thought Paul and Jewell had infinite patience, for putting up with all the kids running in and out with what was no doubt not their indoor voices. There were probably a lot of balls and Frisbees stranded on their roof.
We all seemed so very alive back then.
My dad beat cancer a few years ago, and my brother this year, and I had a scare myself awhile back; but this time it was the disease that ultimately won. We can only grieve, remember, and work toward a cure.
When I was a kid, Paul and Jewell’s house was next to Mama and Papa’s, so they got a lot of spillover guests during family get-togethers—and with nine brothers and sisters in the family, the get-togethers could get pretty big. It was in a hollow in the area of Mousie, Kentucky; I haven’t visited for some time because I’ve heard the area has changed a great deal, and I’d rather remember it as it was.
I don’t recall now the name of the hollow or what road it’s on, but I remember sitting on my grandparents’ big front porch, looking down toward Paul and Jewell’s house and past it to the big mountain that rose in the distance—well, big to me, an Indiana boy. It was uphill on either side, too, and to visit relatives you’d walk up the narrow road, past houses built in single file. Just about everybody had a big porch, and the adults would sit there, sometimes snipping green beans, while they got caught up. The kids would play in the yards, climb the hills, and watch for ticks.
It’s funny what you remember from your kid-hood. Even back then, I thought Paul and Jewell had infinite patience, for putting up with all the kids running in and out with what was no doubt not their indoor voices. There were probably a lot of balls and Frisbees stranded on their roof.
We all seemed so very alive back then.
November 25, 2016
Cover reveal … wait, not yet
It can be hard to find new ways to promote author appearances, especially when they happen close together. In this case, that’s close together in distance—the next one’s less than a mile from the last one, and only three and a half weeks later. The advantage is that they’re in different kinds of places, moving from a library to an art gallery.
At the same time, I’ve been planning an announcement concerning my next writing project. Right now few people know about it, except those who subscribe to our newsletter. So I was faced with two questions: How to get people to our next book signing, and when to make the big official publishing announcement.
You might already know where this is going. You might have thought of it way before I did, but when it comes to promotion I can be a little slow.
The cover art has already been approved for the new book, so I thought, hey – cover … art! And we’re going to an art gallery! So the official unveiling of the cover art for the book, which is titled ********, will be at the Noble Art Gallery, 100 E. Main Street in Albion from 1-5 p.m. on Saturday, December 10th. And you’ll know the title then, ‘cause it’ll be on the cover. We’ll also have the back cover, so you’ll know what the book is about. And, of course, we’ll have all our already published books, including my current favorite, Hoosier Hysterical.
Speaking of supporting local businesses, their Facebook page is here: https://www.facebook.com/nobleartgallery.
Now, let’s face it: They’ll have way better art there than what will be on the cover of my newest novel. Just the same, aren’t you just a little curious? Sure you are. If not, could you pretend to be for my sake? Thanks.
At the same time, I’ve been planning an announcement concerning my next writing project. Right now few people know about it, except those who subscribe to our newsletter. So I was faced with two questions: How to get people to our next book signing, and when to make the big official publishing announcement.
You might already know where this is going. You might have thought of it way before I did, but when it comes to promotion I can be a little slow.
The cover art has already been approved for the new book, so I thought, hey – cover … art! And we’re going to an art gallery! So the official unveiling of the cover art for the book, which is titled ********, will be at the Noble Art Gallery, 100 E. Main Street in Albion from 1-5 p.m. on Saturday, December 10th. And you’ll know the title then, ‘cause it’ll be on the cover. We’ll also have the back cover, so you’ll know what the book is about. And, of course, we’ll have all our already published books, including my current favorite, Hoosier Hysterical.
Speaking of supporting local businesses, their Facebook page is here: https://www.facebook.com/nobleartgallery.
Now, let’s face it: They’ll have way better art there than what will be on the cover of my newest novel. Just the same, aren’t you just a little curious? Sure you are. If not, could you pretend to be for my sake? Thanks.
November 24, 2016
Hoosier Influence in the Election of ’16 … 1916
I've been so busy that I completely forgot this column, which came out in the 4County Mall On November 2nd. But considering it mentions the election, maybe a little time was just as well.
SLIGHTLY OFF THE MARK
It’s been a rough autumn here in the Hoosier land. An exciting-in-a-bad-way presidential election, clowns all around us … although as far as I know, this time the politicians and clowns aren’t connected.
But sometimes, bad things can lead to better things. Our car got wrecked this year, but now we have another one that’s pretty nice. It’s got so many electronics that when it’s time to be serviced, we have to take it to the Apple Store.
And sure, I hate late autumn, but there are advantages. In all my life, once the first snow falls I’ve never had a lawn mower blow up on me. Well, once.
This thing with all the threatening clowns lurking around neighborhoods? Hey, that keeps them out of Washington, where they’d cause even more trouble. (I know, two political clown jokes, but it’s just so easy.)
And the presidential election?
Okay, you’ve got me on that one.
As I write this the election’s still three weeks away, and it’s been a nasty one. The only real benefit is that it’s given me lots more time, because I gave up social media. It’s so … antisocial. You can’t just politely disagree on the issues anymore, largely because we’ve all forgotten what the issues are. It’s all about the three P’s: personality, past, and prison, as in who should be there.
The name calling and mudslinging haven’t been this bad since Cleveland vs. Blaine, and we all know how that one turned out.
If we have the two most disliked candidates in history, it makes you wonder how they got nominated in the first place. Clinton had a sense of inevitability (“Well, it was her turn … wasn’t it?”), while Trump got in mostly because the party bosses assumed he wouldn’t get in. I normally castigate people who refuse to vote, but this year I’ve already ordered my “Don’t Blame Me, I Voted for Neither” bumper sticker.
Whoever wins will have an uphill climb to get the majority of Americans truly behind her. (Although I’m not a fan, I’ve got $20 on Clinton—and I’ve been right in the last three elections. Four, depending on where you stand on Florida in 2000.)
Enough about this year’s election, which will be settled by the time you read this. Here in Indiana, we pine for a repeat of the election of 16 … 1916, which wasn’t nearly as mud-slung, and featured the height of Hoosier influence. There were not one, but three Indiana natives on the ballet that year.
One was Thomas R. Marshall of Columbia City, a country doctor who, to everyone’s surprise, took the governor’s election in 1908. Woodrow Wilson was looking for someone more liberal, but he couldn’t deny Indiana’s political power (seriously!) and chose Governor Marshal as his 1916 running mate.
Marshall didn’t want the job—it didn’t pay enough. But convinced by his wife, who wanted to live in Washington for some reason, he joined Wilson, They won in a landslide in 1912.
That put him on the 1916 ballot against Republican Charles Evans Hughes and his running mate, Theodore Roosevelt’s former vice president, Charles W. Fairbanks. I loved him in Robin Hood! Wait, that was Douglas Fairbanks.
Fairbanks arrived in Indianapolis as an Ohio lawyer, but we let him in anyway. You college football fans, insert your own joke here. His main claim to fame was serving on the commission on Alaskan affairs before that territory became a state, and now you know where the city of Fairbanks, Alaska, got its name—from an imported Hoosier.
Just as Wilson wasn’t thrilled with his less than leftist running mate, Roosevelt would have preferred someone further to the Republican left, but he picked Fairbanks and they won in 1904. Unable to get a presidential nomination himself, Fairbanks joined the ticket again in 1916, as Hughes’ vice.
Just goes to show, presidents have always had vices.
If you’re a political history buff, you’d guess the third Hoosier running in 1916 was socialist Eugene V. Debs, who ran the four times before. But no, he sat out 1916, before running again in 1920—from a prison cell. Again, insert your own joke about modern candidates here.
No, in 1916 the third was J. Frank Hanly, still another former Indiana governor who led the Prohibition Party ticket. No, I’m not kidding—I’m stone cold sober, and so was he. He’d been trying to make America a dry country for many years, and this was the pinnacle of his attempts to save our livers. When a man compares liquor to slavery, you know he’s serious. Imagine what social media would do with that today?
Hanly was confident his beloved cause of saving America from the evils of alcohol would propel the Prohibition Party to victory—stop laughing, I’m not done. Yes, Hanly underestimated his country’s love of booze, and his party got only 1.19 percent of the vote. The winner? Wilson with 49.25 percent, which continued Indiana’s Marshal as vice-president. I suppose they celebrated with a brewskie.
Considering that just a year later Wilson—who originally ran on an anti-war platform—brought us into WWI, maybe the others were thankful.
So there you have it: Three Hoosiers in one election, and only the average amount of mudslinging. Way better than when Alexander Hamilton claimed Thomas Jefferson was having an affair with one of his slaves (which was true, by the way), or when Ben Franklin’s grandson called John Adams “old, querulous, bald, blind, crippled, (and) toothless”. Adams was also called a hermaphrodite, and his son John Quincy was accused of being a pimp. Andrew Jackson’s opponents declared Jackson to be a cannibal. So he ate them.
Maybe the clowns aren’t so bad.
SLIGHTLY OFF THE MARK
It’s been a rough autumn here in the Hoosier land. An exciting-in-a-bad-way presidential election, clowns all around us … although as far as I know, this time the politicians and clowns aren’t connected.
But sometimes, bad things can lead to better things. Our car got wrecked this year, but now we have another one that’s pretty nice. It’s got so many electronics that when it’s time to be serviced, we have to take it to the Apple Store.
And sure, I hate late autumn, but there are advantages. In all my life, once the first snow falls I’ve never had a lawn mower blow up on me. Well, once.
This thing with all the threatening clowns lurking around neighborhoods? Hey, that keeps them out of Washington, where they’d cause even more trouble. (I know, two political clown jokes, but it’s just so easy.)
And the presidential election?
Okay, you’ve got me on that one.
As I write this the election’s still three weeks away, and it’s been a nasty one. The only real benefit is that it’s given me lots more time, because I gave up social media. It’s so … antisocial. You can’t just politely disagree on the issues anymore, largely because we’ve all forgotten what the issues are. It’s all about the three P’s: personality, past, and prison, as in who should be there.
The name calling and mudslinging haven’t been this bad since Cleveland vs. Blaine, and we all know how that one turned out.
If we have the two most disliked candidates in history, it makes you wonder how they got nominated in the first place. Clinton had a sense of inevitability (“Well, it was her turn … wasn’t it?”), while Trump got in mostly because the party bosses assumed he wouldn’t get in. I normally castigate people who refuse to vote, but this year I’ve already ordered my “Don’t Blame Me, I Voted for Neither” bumper sticker.
Whoever wins will have an uphill climb to get the majority of Americans truly behind her. (Although I’m not a fan, I’ve got $20 on Clinton—and I’ve been right in the last three elections. Four, depending on where you stand on Florida in 2000.)
Enough about this year’s election, which will be settled by the time you read this. Here in Indiana, we pine for a repeat of the election of 16 … 1916, which wasn’t nearly as mud-slung, and featured the height of Hoosier influence. There were not one, but three Indiana natives on the ballet that year.
One was Thomas R. Marshall of Columbia City, a country doctor who, to everyone’s surprise, took the governor’s election in 1908. Woodrow Wilson was looking for someone more liberal, but he couldn’t deny Indiana’s political power (seriously!) and chose Governor Marshal as his 1916 running mate.
Marshall didn’t want the job—it didn’t pay enough. But convinced by his wife, who wanted to live in Washington for some reason, he joined Wilson, They won in a landslide in 1912.
That put him on the 1916 ballot against Republican Charles Evans Hughes and his running mate, Theodore Roosevelt’s former vice president, Charles W. Fairbanks. I loved him in Robin Hood! Wait, that was Douglas Fairbanks.
Fairbanks arrived in Indianapolis as an Ohio lawyer, but we let him in anyway. You college football fans, insert your own joke here. His main claim to fame was serving on the commission on Alaskan affairs before that territory became a state, and now you know where the city of Fairbanks, Alaska, got its name—from an imported Hoosier.
Just as Wilson wasn’t thrilled with his less than leftist running mate, Roosevelt would have preferred someone further to the Republican left, but he picked Fairbanks and they won in 1904. Unable to get a presidential nomination himself, Fairbanks joined the ticket again in 1916, as Hughes’ vice.
Just goes to show, presidents have always had vices.
If you’re a political history buff, you’d guess the third Hoosier running in 1916 was socialist Eugene V. Debs, who ran the four times before. But no, he sat out 1916, before running again in 1920—from a prison cell. Again, insert your own joke about modern candidates here.
No, in 1916 the third was J. Frank Hanly, still another former Indiana governor who led the Prohibition Party ticket. No, I’m not kidding—I’m stone cold sober, and so was he. He’d been trying to make America a dry country for many years, and this was the pinnacle of his attempts to save our livers. When a man compares liquor to slavery, you know he’s serious. Imagine what social media would do with that today?
Hanly was confident his beloved cause of saving America from the evils of alcohol would propel the Prohibition Party to victory—stop laughing, I’m not done. Yes, Hanly underestimated his country’s love of booze, and his party got only 1.19 percent of the vote. The winner? Wilson with 49.25 percent, which continued Indiana’s Marshal as vice-president. I suppose they celebrated with a brewskie.
Considering that just a year later Wilson—who originally ran on an anti-war platform—brought us into WWI, maybe the others were thankful.
So there you have it: Three Hoosiers in one election, and only the average amount of mudslinging. Way better than when Alexander Hamilton claimed Thomas Jefferson was having an affair with one of his slaves (which was true, by the way), or when Ben Franklin’s grandson called John Adams “old, querulous, bald, blind, crippled, (and) toothless”. Adams was also called a hermaphrodite, and his son John Quincy was accused of being a pimp. Andrew Jackson’s opponents declared Jackson to be a cannibal. So he ate them.
Maybe the clowns aren’t so bad.
November 18, 2016
November 15, 2016
You in other countries, you have an excuse
I’ll see you all tomorrow at the library in Albion, 3-7 p.m.! I mean, except for a few of you who are excused. You, you … yeah, okay, you. But for everyone else, it’s not just a book signing, it’s an author appearance—in other words, you can stop by without buying.
Even if you don’t buy a book or two, you can probably pry out of me the big announcement I made earlier this week in the newsletter. I mean, unless you get the newsletter, in which case you already know, and asking would be silly.
Even if you don’t buy a book or two, you can probably pry out of me the big announcement I made earlier this week in the newsletter. I mean, unless you get the newsletter, in which case you already know, and asking would be silly.
November 14, 2016
Bury Me At the Library (Not literally, that would be weird.)
One of the reasons why so many adults are miserable is because we so often give up what we like to do, in favor of what we think we should do.
It’s why I don’t make fun of most hobbies, as long as they’re not damaging property or people. As the old saying goes, give a man a fish and he eats once; teach a man to fish and he’s out of your hair for hours. You want to paint your face and scream your lungs out at a football game? Go for it. You want to dress up as a wizard and play a board game? I don’t see how that’s any sillier than painting your face, and at least you’re indoors.
What I loved to do was go to the library. All those books! Rows and rows of shelves and shelves, each filled with dozens of new worlds to explore. No matter how I pictured my life in the future, I knew I’d someday have a library all my own—an entire room with nothing but books.
Well, I’m halfway there: I have enough books to stock a room, but unfortunately they’re spread out in stacks and boxes all over the house. Someday.
I guess that’s expected, of a writer. What I didn’t expect was getting so busy doing adult things that I stopped going to the library. On a related subject, nobody warned me that being a writer would eat into my reading. There are those days—days when I get still another rejection letter, or a list of edits, or a lonely book signing—when I think I could give up writing, in order to get more reading time.
Then I’d be back at the library, for sure.
When I was a teenager the Noble County Public Library’s main branch was on the courthouse square, just a few blocks from where I lived. The back part was a Carnegie Library, one of those buildings funded decades ago by a rich guy who saw a need and helped fill it. The front part was newer, but featured big picture windows where someone could sit and look out over the courthouse. That’s where the magazines and newspapers were, and I read a lot of those.
I had to, once I ran through every book.
A person can read at home, as I usually do these days. But there’s something about a library. The smell of books, the look of them, especially the old ones. The feeling that you’re with others who might also love books, or at least appreciate them. There were microfilms full of history, plus atlases, huge dictionaries, encyclopedias pre-internet. Oh, and records—those vinyl disk things, you remember.
When I moved out on my own, one of my few belongings was a record player the size of a console TV. (A console TV, it was … oh, never mind. It was huge.) I’d take home some classical music records (and a stack of books), and play them while writing stories on my old manual typewriter. (A manual typewriter? … get your grandmother to explain.)
I’d probably still be a reader if there were no libraries—my parents saw to that—but I’m not sure I would have ever become a writer.
It might seem a little strange that I’m having a book signing this Wednesday at that same library, in its new location. I mean, that’s where you go to get your books for free, right? And there I am, trying to sell some. But I figure, that’s where the book lovers go. Besides, I owe all libraries, especially this one, and maybe this is my chance to pay them back a little, with some publicity and even a few walk-ins who wouldn’t be there otherwise. Or, maybe the library is just helping me again.
But either way, I get to spend a few hours there. And with all our adult responsibilities these days, it’s nice to go somewhere we want to be.
It’s why I don’t make fun of most hobbies, as long as they’re not damaging property or people. As the old saying goes, give a man a fish and he eats once; teach a man to fish and he’s out of your hair for hours. You want to paint your face and scream your lungs out at a football game? Go for it. You want to dress up as a wizard and play a board game? I don’t see how that’s any sillier than painting your face, and at least you’re indoors.
What I loved to do was go to the library. All those books! Rows and rows of shelves and shelves, each filled with dozens of new worlds to explore. No matter how I pictured my life in the future, I knew I’d someday have a library all my own—an entire room with nothing but books.
Well, I’m halfway there: I have enough books to stock a room, but unfortunately they’re spread out in stacks and boxes all over the house. Someday.
I guess that’s expected, of a writer. What I didn’t expect was getting so busy doing adult things that I stopped going to the library. On a related subject, nobody warned me that being a writer would eat into my reading. There are those days—days when I get still another rejection letter, or a list of edits, or a lonely book signing—when I think I could give up writing, in order to get more reading time.
Then I’d be back at the library, for sure.
When I was a teenager the Noble County Public Library’s main branch was on the courthouse square, just a few blocks from where I lived. The back part was a Carnegie Library, one of those buildings funded decades ago by a rich guy who saw a need and helped fill it. The front part was newer, but featured big picture windows where someone could sit and look out over the courthouse. That’s where the magazines and newspapers were, and I read a lot of those.
I had to, once I ran through every book.
A person can read at home, as I usually do these days. But there’s something about a library. The smell of books, the look of them, especially the old ones. The feeling that you’re with others who might also love books, or at least appreciate them. There were microfilms full of history, plus atlases, huge dictionaries, encyclopedias pre-internet. Oh, and records—those vinyl disk things, you remember.
When I moved out on my own, one of my few belongings was a record player the size of a console TV. (A console TV, it was … oh, never mind. It was huge.) I’d take home some classical music records (and a stack of books), and play them while writing stories on my old manual typewriter. (A manual typewriter? … get your grandmother to explain.)
I’d probably still be a reader if there were no libraries—my parents saw to that—but I’m not sure I would have ever become a writer.
It might seem a little strange that I’m having a book signing this Wednesday at that same library, in its new location. I mean, that’s where you go to get your books for free, right? And there I am, trying to sell some. But I figure, that’s where the book lovers go. Besides, I owe all libraries, especially this one, and maybe this is my chance to pay them back a little, with some publicity and even a few walk-ins who wouldn’t be there otherwise. Or, maybe the library is just helping me again.
But either way, I get to spend a few hours there. And with all our adult responsibilities these days, it’s nice to go somewhere we want to be.
