The Art of Shenandoah

After various bubbles and squeaks (a sly reference to English cuisine in preparation for my first attempt at making Shepard's Pie), my laptop seemed to have bit the big one. While its various maladies were being diagnosed, and before reviving the old desktop, we decided that last Saturday would be a perfect day for a trip to Shenandoah National Park and a leisurely ride down Skyline Drive. It was, perhaps, the last weekend to view the spectacular fall foliage that graces that glorious landscape. Looking from the mountain base to the top, you could see the leaf line. Below, the vibrant, autumn colors still clung to the trees, while farther up, the leaves had already begun their graceful descent to earth.

(Usually, in Shenandoah we are lucky enough to become enveloped in the solitude of its majesty. But this last weekend in October, we were joined by about a million other leaf-happy freaks. Overlooking that and moving on.)

I came across a sonnet by John Keats, entitled “The Grasshopper and The Cricket.” The first line expresses beautifully everything my heart was feeling during and after our weekend journey: “The poetry of earth is never dead.” So enraptured was I by these seven words that I tweeted them, chose them as my quote prompt at The Magnified Muse, and am using them as the base on which to build this post. My need for repetition isn't through a lack of imagination but, rather, for the inspiration that promotes imagination.

It’s a simple truth that inspiration can come from any source. I’ve found it while stretched out in a beach chair, staring out over miles of ocean. I find it when I look at my eleven-year old basset hound, Simon, as he sleeps peacefully on his pillow. My black lab, Tucker, is inspiration personified, be it in his happy face, his wagging tail, or his insatiable need for play. My family provides me more than enough to appease my inner muse. But for me, one of the most galvanizing influences on my poetic endeavors comes from those mountains in Virginia.

I used to be a City girl. Creature comforts were my preference and the outdoors were, well, just that: outdoors. Something to look at and enjoy for the moment, but afterwards, get me to a nice, clean hotel with all the amenities. I mean, I’d look at nature, as long as my end reward was room service or a Jacuzzi tub. When a friend suggested we go camping in Shenandoah National Park, I was openly agreeable and inwardly appalled. Outside? In a tent?? It proved to be an experience I never forgot and one I would repeat regularly throughout the ensuing years.

The camping trips, themselves, provided me a source of inspiration. Not always positive, but always memorable. We were sleeping soundly in the tent one night, when a camper in the distance shouts out, at the top of her lungs, “He hit me! He hit me!” I remember her repeating this mantra over and over for nearly an hour. One other camper, in desperate need of sleep, finally shouted back, “If you don’t shut up, I’ll hit you, too.” And that came from another woman! (We later found out from a park ranger that the couple involved in the early morning fracas had been drinking to beyond excess. They both denied anything physical took place, but, honestly, that liquored up, how could they remember? And for those of you wondering why we didn’t rush to this poor woman’s defense, there are certain camping rules that always apply: (1) Noises travel in unusual patterns through a campground. (2) Never wander around aimlessly through the dark of night in bear country. I’m just saying …)

Over the years, we had our share of bad weather and tents that weren’t able to handle it. I can’t even count how many times we woke up to find small streams cascading over our backpacks, sleeping bags and bodies. And take it from me, there is nothing worse than breaking camp with a water-logged tent. Try folding that sucker back into its carry-bag when it’s soaking, wringing wet. It’s not going to happen.

I even hit the trails as an unseasoned and unprepared hiker. Mileage is hard to configure when you first head out on your merry way. Let no one tell you otherwise: it is possible to go too far. Which is what I did on many occasions. I would find myself following an outdated guidebook to points of interest that no longer existed. Then a sizeable panic overtook me as I realized I had lost the trail. I always found my way back to it, though, but not without a fair amount of fear and a lot of wasted energy.

Once I was a little more comfortable with the art of hiking, a whole, new world opened up for me. The best hike I ever did was Milam Gap at Milepost 52.8 on Skyline Drive. The trail goes straight down for over two miles, over rock scrambles and through streams until you reach Camp Hoover, the retreat of President Herbert Hoover. There are several restored buildings down there, including the President’s residence. Most intriguing is the tree that stands straight and tall through a deck that was clearly built around it. (Of course, two miles down a four mile, round-trip hike means two miles back up. Straight up. And back over and across those same rock scrambles and streams. But once your breathing is restored, either naturally or artificially, you’re thrilled by your accomplishment. Really.)

I’ve been to the Mountains in every season and each one shows a unique glimpse into the magnificence of nature. The earliest budding of mountain laurel in the spring, the bear cubs scampering through the woods in summer, the breathtaking autumn colors springing to life in fall, and winter’s white blanket that graces the mountaintops. All deeply moving images, stirring the soul to find words to express that which grips the heart. If you’re lucky enough to spend the night, you’ll quickly discover that daylight doesn’t have a stronghold on its beauty. When the sun sets, a thousand stars dance merrily in the evening sky and will leave their mark upon your soul.

This post is not a travelogue, even though it appears to be. Rather, it’s about a place that never fails to renew my spirit. If there’s any art within me to produce, it’s released when I visit those Mountains. They’ve been the subject of countless photographs and paintings. And writers and poets way more talented than I am have described their extraordinary beauty. I’m certain I will never be able to accurately express what I feel and see when I’m there or my heartbreak at having to leave.

And sometimes, that’s true for all of us whenever we come across something that inspires us. It’s hard to capture in words or pictures something that deeply moves us. We’re not expected to make it perfect. What we write, photograph or paint may not be remembered long after we’re gone. It might not even be read or looked at once we create it. But it’s always the creation process that’s most important. Find what moves you. Find art’s potential wherever you may be. And if you’re ever in Virginia, stop by my Shenandoah Mountains. They’ll be glad you did. And so will you.

Eve of Distraction

In my last post (only last Friday, I brag to the naysayers!), I wrote about the positive aspects of the social media as a tool for marketing. But like most everything else we partake of, this should come with a WARNING label: Do Not Operate While Under the Influence of Procrastination.

In the early days of Major League Baseball (in the late 1800s-early 1900s), Rube Waddell was a remarkably dominant strikeout pitcher in an era when batters mostly slapped at the ball to get singles. He had an excellent fastball, a sharp-breaking curve, a screwball, and superb control. Waddell led the Major Leagues in strikeouts for six consecutive years. However, he was also fairly unpredictable. He had a habit of leaving the dugout in the middle of a game to follow passing fire trucks en route to fires. He was easily distracted by fans of opposing teams who held up puppies and shiny objects, which would always put Waddell in a trance. He was, in fact, very much like me (except that I’ve never played professional baseball) for I am, perhaps, the most easily distracted individual I have ever known.

Admittedly, I do not fall victim to distraction through fire engines, shiny objects or puppies. (Okay. Maybe puppies. But I’ve never chased a fire engine.) Instead, the sole source of my prolonged procrastination is firmly rooted in the world wide web. At the end of the day, my unattended project list falls under its own “www” – What Went Wrong?

It’s hard to pinpoint which cyber playground engrosses me the most. I am, without a doubt, hopelessly addicted to email. Not that I get all that much real email. Most of my various inboxes are littered with spam. But I’ve been known to be on vacation, without a computer, trying to access my phone’s email function. The various positions I have twisted myself into to bring up that one, necessary bar would make yoga enthusiasts blush. The most common result of all these gymnastic exercises: No New Messages.

If it was only my obsession with email standing in the way of productivity, my workload would be much smaller. But I have bigger fish to fry than yahoo and gmail. First of all, I’m a numbers freak. Tracking visitors to my blogs and websites is a day-long investment of time and energy, overshadowed only by the relentless investigation of how many downloads there have been of my books. Not just once or twice a day, mind you. That might be considered normal. I take it to a whole, new level. I can check statistics every hour on the hour. Not surprising, nothing much changes in those mere, sixty minutes, but that doesn’t stop me from taking another peak.

Ask just about anyone and you’ll be told that Wikipedia is not a trustworthy source of information. Of course, it isn’t. Anybody with a keyboard can jump in there at any time and recreate history. So, what’s your point? As a researcher, I don’t take any Wikipedia fact as gospel unless I verify in through several, different sources. But for a procrastinator? It’s a little, slice of heaven. And it isn’t so much the story as it is the links. Look up one person in Wikipedia and you’ll find a slew of links to just about everybody else. After an hour, you’ll be so far away from your initial search that you can easily forget where (and why) you started.

For pure procrastination at its finest, though, nothing beats YouTube. I work for a radio station that specializes in pop standards and artists from the 40s, 50s and 60s. A huge part of our listeners are Doris Day fans. So it’s not surprising that many of our promos are about this singing/acting legend. One day, I innocently wandered on to YouTube to check out a promotion for one of our upcoming, special programs. This, of course, led to other video suggestions. Oh, look! Doris Day on the John Denver special. After watching various snippets of this show, I found videos of John Denver and The Muppets. The Muppets! Wait. Where was I? Oh, yes. Doris Day. Hey, there’s a clip of her on the old, game show, I’ve Got A Secret! Who else was on there? Huh. Sammy Davis, Jr. Gypsy Rose Lee. Bob Hope. Jack Benny. And on and on and on. It’s amazing how much time can elapse by watching all these harmless, little video clips.

Twitter is rapidly becoming my diversion of choice. With an imposed limitation of 140 characters, you can read a dozen tweets in a very short time. The problem is that tweets are always being updated. And, much like YouTube, there are always suggestions for other Tweeters you may enjoy. I’ve really just started posting my own tweets, but I’m less interested in my own words of wisdom than the fascinating things other people say. And don’t forget: Most of the tweets have links attached for even more Twitter fun! Countless hours expended. Limited product to show for it.

I’m a brand new Skype user. I haven’t figured out exactly how it will enhance my life, but I’ve certainly spent enough time trying. I do know that I had a 27 minute and 42 second conversation with another Skyper and, if asked, I couldn’t tell you what all we talked about. Probably about Twitter, YouTube and Wikipedia.

For those of us who work at home, we don’t have other people around with whom we can break up the daily monotony. Oh, sure. I can talk my fool head off with my dogs, but the Labrador only understands “ball” and the Basset Hound only understands “dinner.” Conversing with the cats is out of the question. There is nothing I can say that is even remotely interesting to them. Then again, when I was working in an office, my co-workers probably felt the same way.

The moral of this story? I guess it all boils down to self-control. Forcing yourself to remain focused is not an easy task. Distractions are all around us and attack with subtle ferocity. Call it getting back on the bus, getting the train back on the tracks, or jumping back up on the horse … it doesn’t matter. When you feel yourself drifting away, indulge yourself for a moment or two (or five, or ten or twenty). Just remember, at the end of your visit through Cyber Land, there is work to do. And, as Larry, The Cable Guy, says, “Git-R-Done.”

Walking In A Cyber Wonderland

I suppose there is something cathartic about opening yourself up to ridicule and criticism. For me, it happens so often, I’d like to say I’ve gotten used to it. Alas. I haven’t.

On September 21, 2010, I poured out my heart and soul about my deep, burning regret that a month had gone since my last post. Today is October 22 and, once again, a month (plus a day) has gone by. (The Catholic in me now kneels, bows her head and repeats, “mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa.” Translations are available in the lobby.)

In the past month, I’ve found myself engaged in activities that took me to places I never planned to go. My parents both died at the age of 87. They somehow lived full, productive and happy lives without benefit of today’s technology. My mom had never seen a personal computer. I once asked my dad if he wanted to see mine and he replied, “No, not really.” If they were to ask me what I do during the day, I’d say, “I Tweet, blog, Facebook, Rocket, and youtube.” They would probably shake their heads and consider sending me to therapy.

When I published my first book at Smashwords, I studied the marketing guide from cover to cover. (Okay. Smashwords publishes eBooks, so I actually read the guide from a solitary screen. But you get my point, right?) For today’s self-published authors to not take advantage of every technological trend available is to do themselves a great disservice. We are the ones responsible for marketing our work, and the internet provides us with a wealth of tools at our fingertips.

To be honest, I don’t really utilize Facebook much in terms of marketing. To subject my small group of friends to my shameless, self-promotion seems a bit intrusive on our friendship. I might as well wear a sign in front of them that says, “Look what I did! Look what I did!” And on the rare occasions I do post about something I've done, nobody types back, “So what? Who cares?” but my imagination is vivid enough to picture them thinking it. I do use Facebook to make short announcements about The Poetry Hut to an even smaller group of “likes.” But I haven’t quite figured out how to make my posts sound exciting. “The monthly update to The Poetry Hut is now online. It features new contributor poems, blah, blah, blah.”

I’m a relatively new Tweeter. My first tweet at Twitter (sounds almost musical, doesn’t it?) was on September 24th. I resisted joining the Twitter ranks for quite a while. I was not sure how I could offer the world insight into my abundant literary gifts in 140 characters. And then, as though struck by lightning, it came to me. I can’t. Not just because I don’t have any, but more important, I’m not expected to. The great thing about Twitter just might be those 140 characters. You’re giving your followers (or tweeps) a glimpse into your personality. Of course, that can be good or bad, but the way I see it, I don’t really know these people because none of my personal friends are tweeps. That isn’t saying you won’t make new tweeps. It’s just that these people are following you because something you’ve written, in a small space, has grabbed their attention. You don’t need to spend hours searching your inner muse for something profound and pithy. All you really need to do is write how you feel or what’s going on. “It’s a gorgeous day and I don’t feel like writing” or “My book sales are in the toilet” will suffice. (I may have to save that last one. Forget you saw it here.) Never make all of your tweets about commercializing yourself. The number of your tweeps will dwindle if everything your write is solely to promote your latest book. A page full of tweets saying, “Buy my book” is a turn-off. You may be surprised by the interest you generate if you incorporate tweets about the world as you see it, as well as the mundane aspects of the writing life.

The best place for marketing your work to the fullest is on your blog. If you don’t have one, create one. If you do have one, then for heaven’s sake, be better about posting regularly to it than I am. Your blog represents who you are and what you do. You’re in complete control. There are no character limitations or content restrictions, so be as wordy or as self-promoting as you want! You can blog as a poet, an author, or a commentator on everyday life. Make sure to provide links to your books or any of your other blogs or websites. Also, include an RSS feed to your Twitter page. Interconnecting links and feeds builds your presence in the internet community. I administer two poetry prompt blogs. Although they are sorely lacking in participation, my tracking information tells me that people visit both of them every day. And not always the same people. You never know who’s interested in what you do. Give them something to be interested in.

I use MP3Rocket and youtube for creating special programming and promotional videos for our internet radio station. I will tell you outright that I absolutely love Rocket. You can find just about any piece of music ever recorded. When we were preparing our show on One Hit Wonders, I needed a song by Larry Verne called “Mr. Custer” and, lo and behold, I found it on Rocket. The basic subscription for this song sharing service is free. You can upgrade to a package that will provide you faster downloads and a broader range of selections. But, hey, if I can find something as obscure as “Mr. Custer” for free, I can’t see spending money for something more. Heck. What more could there be?

The Smashwords Marketing Guide also recommends promoting your book through youtube. I do create youtubes for promoting certain radio programs. But, in all honesty, I’ve never figured out how to create videos about my book. Whenever I think about it, I get an ugly picture in my head of someone (probably me) reading a chapter to a background of mind-numbing Muzak for an underwhelmed audience. Worse, I see my friends and me showcasing our lack of acting ability while portraying a scene from the book before a camera. Can you say, “ick?” However, there are minds out there way more clever than mine. Take that cleverness to a new level. If you find something that works, you’re moving in the right direction.

So, there you have it. A Poetry, Prose & Piffle look at promoting you and your writing through the social media. Will any of these tools guarantee you a million dollars? A million readers?? A safe answer to both is, “no.” They are, however, great places to begin. Get your name out there. Connect with those having similar interests. All of these marketing outlets can work like a chain reaction. One reader passes something on to another, and that reader passes it on to someone else. Get started on creating your own domino effect.

You have, no doubt, noticed that I haven’t addressed the length of my blogging absence. I’m sure I could come up with some really good excuses, but do I feel the need? To quote my dad, “No, not really.”

Everywhere Which Way But Here

In five days, it will be one month since my last post. That’s not an anniversary I intend to celebrate. When I created this new blog, my intention was to post something at least once a week. I know. I know. The road to hell is paved with good intentions … blah, blah, blah.

Being a creative person, there are many things I can blame for my lack of recent blogging. Some are even legitimate.

Certainly, there is much to be said for the artistry of procrastination. Somewhere in a past life, I must have made quite a study of this subtle art. In a recent prompt for The Magnified Muse, I chose a quote from Mary Todd Lincoln: “My evil genius Procrastination has whispered me to tarry 'til a more convenient season.” Not only is that a great quote, it is, apparently for me, words to live by. Case in point: My next word prompt for Thursday’s A Muse Fuse begins with the letter “x.” You would think a word that difficult to choose would cause me to thumb through the dictionary at breakneck speed. Yes, I suppose one would think so. But, hey, it’s only Tuesday.

And, of course, there are “The Projects.” When I was out in the working world (the paying one), I used to complain that there was never enough time to get everything done that was expected of me. In my non-paying, working world, things should be different. I am my own taskmaster. And yet, I keep my list of things to do well fertilized. It grows higher and higher in the sky and, still, I keep on planting.

After publishing Tarnished Idols, I knew how important it was to get my next novel out there. I had the nerve to announce that the second Silver Screen Mystery, Reel Madness, was well underway. While I have certainly been working on it, “well underway” is in the eye of the beholder. For at the same time I started Reel Madness, I began working on an entirely different kind of series, a Speakeasy Mystery called, Distilled Demons. While the Silver Screen stories offer a more light-hearted approach to murder, the Speakeasy Mystery is a look inside the darker days of prohibition and the people who fought the system. There are some days I feel more dark than on the others, which is how I usually pick which one to work on. And on days I can’t decide how I feel, both fall by the wayside.

Somewhere in the midst of these two literary ideas, I started toying around with a children’s book. The Basset Goes To Boston tells the story of how a basset hound and his best friend, a cat, travel back in time to the night of Paul Revere’s ride. Putting this together, both the story in rhyme and the accompanying clipart, has been a great deal of fun. It will be published soon as an eBook at Smashwords and then as a full-color print book through Createspace at Amazon. But enjoyable or not, it has taken me away from more pressing concerns.

The October issue of The Poetry Hut, springs to mind as one such project. October is speeding toward me like a runaway freight train and all I have to stop it is a pencil. A pencil I can’t afford to lose, I might add. Because I also run two, poetry prompt sites each week and I need every piece of leaden hardware I can get.

And I haven't even mentioned the two book reviews I need to write for Gumshoe Reviews (which have yet to be written) my next poetry collection, And Autumn Remembers (which has yet to be compiled) or the song lyrics which need to be added to The Musical Sooze.

Now, a reasonably sane person would think the above "things-to-do" are enough. Not me, boy! Bring it on, says I!

A friend of mine hosts a series of programs on internet radio called “Just For Old Time’s Sake.” On it, he offers retrospectives of different musical genres as well as shows featuring the musical libraries of various artists from the 40s, 50s and 60s. In May, he and I co-scripted and co-hosted a program on the 1960s British Invasion. This, too, proved to be a lot of fun. The problem is I just don’t know when to bow out gracefully.

While compiling shows for the upcoming season, he proposed a list of program ideas. I was intrigued by one of them, and proceeded to research and script a program called “One Hit Wonders.” Then came a request by the Program Director to record voice overs, time stamps, promos and everything else you wanted to know about radio but were afraid to ask. And, before I realized what was happening, I agreed to help co-script a holiday music show, as well as research, script and host a special program on Nat King Cole. Finding time for these things hasn’t been a problem. What has been problematic is finding a way to incorporate these projects into the ones already at hand.

And here is the point of this rather lengthy look at The Life of Susan. (You knew there would be one. I was hoping so.)

In every area of our lives, we are quick to put more on our plates than there is room for. (This applies to Thanksgiving and holiday dinners, as well. But that’s a different problem entirely.) It is, perhaps, the need to accomplish much in the short lives we are given. We try to appease our bosses, our families, our friends and ourselves. But attaining one goal cannot be successfully accomplished if, in the process, we diminish the quality of others. We live in a hectic world. Pressure comes at us from all sides. Keep your head above water and focus on the things that truly matter. Everything else will fall into place.

For those of us who write, the same rule applies. Don’t sacrifice quality for quantity. There’s nothing wrong with adding to your literary resume. But it’s how you approach those added projects that will make or break your work. When they become less satisfying and more of a hardship, it’s time to regroup. You can fill your plate to overflowing, but the meal won’t taste as good if everything is mushed together. (Clearly, there are food issues here.) There’s always room for one more assignment. Approach it with the knowledge that, while everything you write will not be Pulitzer worthy, it will showcase the talented writer within you. Let your natural creativity lead the way. Retain your sense of humor and have fun with what you do. That’s why we do it in the first place: because we enjoy it.

So, will I post here with more regularity? I certainly expect to. But for better or worse, at least I’ll continue paving that road. Check back often to see how I’m doing!

Take My Book ... Please!

Although this isn’t as funny as the late, great comedian, Henny Youngman’s, “Take my wife … please,” there’s still a good bit of humor attached to it, as well as a certain amount of irony.

All writers who publish hope for some return on the investment of time, energy and brainpower they expended in creating their great American novels or collections of poetic masterpieces (this being said, of course, with tongue securely planted in cheek, as evidenced by my own self-publishing experience).

First of all, you need to know my secret. I have an ongoing love affair with Smashwords.com. It is a professional eBook publisher that makes the uploading process fairly simple. There are, of course, guidelines to follow since the various eReader formats don’t process each document in the same way. On my first attempt (or was it second, third or fourth?), several pages seemed to have Chinese characters running amok across the pages. Chinese? Curious, especially when you consider there are those who read my book who might question whether or not I can write English, much less Chinese.

When I first uploaded my novel to Smashwords, I came to the page where I needed to enter a price for the book. I skimmed through the catalog to see what other, first-time writers were charging for similar submissions. I decided to follow their lead, which ultimately had the similar effect as a lamb being led to the slaughterhouse. I priced it at $4.99, thinking that sounded pretty reasonable and was in line with the cost of others. After all, it was cheaper than a paperback. WHAT I LEARNED #1: Nobody wants to spend money on an unknown. No money. No way. Period. The book had a fair amount of sample downloads, but paid downloads were restricted to the two people whose books I reviewed. WHAT I LEARNED #2: Don’t expect quid pro quo; two book reviews don’t guarantee two reviews of your own book. Out of two, I got one. In fact, I reviewed three additional books and (1) was told, “I don’t have time to read other people’s books,” (2) received no direct reply, but my review was acknowledged on a Facebook page, and (3) got no response whatsoever. I don’t take that personally, however. WHAT I LEARNED #3: You're not the center of the universe and you're not being ignored. People are just busy. Get over it.

Smashwords offers their writers (and readers) free marketing ideas in Mark Coker’s Smashwords Book Marketing Guide (another shameless display of my Smashwords love affair. Say it with me: Smashwords, Smashwords, Smashwords). I followed many of the excellent suggestions to promote my book. After lingering at the same number of sample downloads for what seemed like an eternity, I decided to take advantage of one of the ideas I had yet to utilize. I began submitting the novel to websites and blogs that promote free eBooks. You need to know there are many of these sites out there. But be also forewarned that some don’t want their readers to have to sign in for anything, so even if you offer a free coupon code at Smashwords, they may still turn your book down because registration is required before checkout. WHAT I LEARNED #4: “I said no registration required” translates into “I said no registration required.” There are ways around this. I created a separate page on my personal website that linked directly to a PDF document file of my book. The downside is that the format is limited to PDF which, quite frankly, doesn’t transfer well onto eReaders. The other alternative, which shouldn’t have taken me so long to figure out, was to drop the cost of my book to zero. The number of downloads has nearly doubled in the short time since making the book free.

Another marketing suggestion is to, quite simply, write and upload another book. Sounds easy enough, but if it takes me as long to write the next one as it did to write the first one, I’ll be older and grayer than I already am. In my own defense, I am in the process of writing two new novels, a second one in the Silver Screen Murder Mystery series, and a new one for a series I’m calling, “A Speakeasy Murder Mystery.” But they are far from completion and are just barely out of the outline phase. What I did have was a collection of poetry I published in print at Wordclay. So, over to Smashwords I went and, after a few hours of conforming the manuscript to the style requirements, I uploaded it there and, again, listed it for free. Even though my two books are in completely different genres, the links from one book to another have had a positive impact on visitor numbers. WHAT I LEARNED #5: Experienced professionals occasionally know what they’re talking about.

What do you get from all this? Why would you offer something for nothing? Exposure. Plain and simple, for an unknown writer, exposure is everything. I babble on quite frequently about how writing solely for profit is an unrealistic goal. John (or Jane) Everyman (or Everywoman) isn’t going to rake in the dough on their first attempt. Nor the second, nor quite possibly the tenth. If you have a story to tell, tell it. If you want it to be read, make it available. Readers need to know who you are and what you can do. And they won’t know if you don’t make it easy for them to learn.

Offering your book for free doesn’t mean you’ll get thousands of downloads. Perhaps an equally appropriate post title would have been, “I Can’t Give It Away.” But by following this road, you’ll begin to establish yourself and, possibly, create a loyal following. It’s fun to shoot for the moon, but this business of writing is like any other business. WHAT I LEARNED #6: You need to start at the bottom and work your way up.

A Tribute

I have been struggling all week with what I should write about next in this blog. In my document folder, I have a file named “Topics” for posts I’d like to write. I may be partial, but there are some good ones there. No. I won’t share them with you now because if they don’t turn out well, I don’t want to be accused of unwarranted hype.

At the moment, though, none of the topics appeal to me. I may be going through the black hole known as “writer’s block.” But I think the malady might better be described as a “blue funk.”

Friday is the third anniversary of my father’s death. In 2007, he passed away on August 20th from a massive stroke. His funeral was the following Saturday. Two weeks after he died, on September 3rd, my mom passed away. She had been struggling for over a decade with the devastating effects of dementia and on the following Saturday, we buried her.

To call those three weeks the worst extended period of my adult life is the biggest understatement I could ever make. In that short period of time, my life changed dramatically and yet, somehow, stood still, all at the same time. And so, I’ve found my topic for the week. I’ve learned that the art of writing can aid in the healing process and, in an attempt to do so, I offer this short tribute.

My mother and father were decent, hardworking people. Both were born in 1920. They lived through The Great Depression. They were both twelve years old when Franklin Delano Roosevelt became President for the first time and twenty-four years old when he died. He brought the country through the depression and guided the country through World War II. My mother remembered feeling like she’d lost a member of her family when he passed away.

They were exceptional examples of the true meaning of the Catholic faith and all it embraced. Their religion meant a great deal to both of them. They truly practiced what they preached. They were married in 1941, just fifteen days after the attack on Pearl Harbor. When my dad died, they had been married for sixty-six years. They believed in the power of their commitment and they honored it every day.

My father was more conservative than I remembered. In my liberal youth, I was appalled that my own father voted for Nixon over Kennedy in 1960. When I voted in my first election, I chose to support McGovern in 1972. My dad tried to tell me what a mistake I was making. In 1974, when the Nixon presidency collapsed under the weight of Watergate, I smugly told my father, “You see. I was right!” Our ideologies never ran in the same direction, but I think he was proud that I at least had one.

They didn’t grow up with television, much less cable, the internet or iTunes. My dad was content with the handful of stations that came through his television set with rabbit ears configured in a myriad of positions. He listened to his vinyl albums. He contacted family and friends through the lost art of letter writing or by telephone. My dad wasn’t interested in computers. My mother, on the other hand, worked at IBM when this technological marvel was in its infancy. The computer revolution was just beginning to hit its stride when her health began its slow, steady and painful decline. I believe she would have been fascinated with all the computer age had to offer.

I wrote a piece about my mother for her high school’s alumni magazine, but it never got printed. But my dad, like most fathers would, thought the piece was wonderful. He said to me, “I wonder what you could have done if we’d been able to send you to college.” He seemed sad when he said it, as though he had let me down. When I tried to tell him that I could have gone to college if I’d really wanted to, it didn’t seem to ease his mind.

His comment started me wondering if I’d let him down. At the time I was a secretary (just a secretary, as some of us in the field referred to it). I didn’t own a house or a car. I hadn’t given him a boatload of Catholic grandchildren. I wasn’t even married.

One day, we took a day trip to Gettysburg. As we walked around that hallowed place, my emotions got the better of me and tears began welling up. I remember apologizing to him. He said, “You don’t need to apologize. You’re crying because you feel things. Because you’re moved by the events that took place here. It makes me feel good, because I had some little part in making you that way.”

And that’s why I miss him so much today. This good man, with simple needs, took great pleasure in everything God had given him. My dad wasn’t impressed by material things. The gifts he had were on a much higher level. His faith, his family and his dog were the things he cherished most.

He was my mother’s primary caregiver until the last two years of his life when his own health was on shaky ground. Although he was visibly frustrated in the early days of her illness, over the years, I was amazed at the patience that seemed to grow ever stronger. He never looked at it as a trial or a burden. He was just doing his job; what he’d promised to do when they got married. He took care of her.

He was a treasured cousin, a faithful friend, and a good neighbor. His faith sustained him. His humor defined him. And the three years since that horrible day have not diminished his importance to my life or the emptiness he left behind. But maybe the pain of his loss should never fade. Pain follows when recalling a memory of him. And those memories are what keep him alive in my heart.

I realize the focus of this post is mainly on my father. This isn’t intended to minimize the loss of my mother or the significant role she played in my life. As she became more deeply entrenched into the prison of dementia, it became harder for me to deal with her past and her present. I still find myself more obsessed with what could have been than with what actually was. That part of the healing process is ongoing and is something I will address here later. Right now, that place is still too painful for me to visit. Yet she, too, was greatly loved and is greatly missed.

I would give anything to have my mom and dad here with me today. But I am eternally grateful for being blessed to have them as my parents. And I can only hope they felt blessed to have me as their child.

"Oh, So You're SELF-Published"

If you’re the one speaking this phrase, make sure you tilt your head forward ever so slightly, shaking it gently back and forth, and infuse your tone with the right mixture of scorn and pity. If you’re the one the phrase is spoken to, resist the urge to scream, spit or cry. You’re not playing football here, so there’s no need to go on the offensive or defensive.

Traditional publishing today is facing the same sort of difficulties already faced by the movie and music industries. From the inception of the first video tape recorder and the subsequent morphing into DVDs, to the advent of mp3 players and online music libraries, the entertainment world has found itself at the mercy of the digital age. The production of the first e-reading device and digitalized books has forced book publishers to reevaluate their own place in this computerized world. We’ll discuss the ebook revolution in a future post. Today, it’s all about self-publishing.

Trying to change people’s perceptions about self-publishing is a lot like trying to teach a four-month old black Labrador not to chew on furniture. You expend tremendous energy for very little, if any, reward. (Trust me on this one. I consider myself an expert on labs and chewing. A year and a half later, we are still finding that rawhide chewies are less appealing than the leather loveseat or dining room chairs. My suggestion? IKEA.)

One notion particularly seems to be prevalent in the minds of the hard-core traditionalists. “Independent authors will glut the market with mediocre books.” As the writer of one of those mediocre books, I’m afraid I must object. While I know my novel is not the most exciting mystery ever written, it’s certainly not the worst. In an attempt to support the cause, I’ve read quite a few mysteries by self-published writers and many of them are as good as, if not better than, some books published in the mainstream market. What it boils down to is that it doesn’t matter how it’s published but how it’s written.

Years ago, self-publishers were referred to as the vanity press. This was a pretty accurate description. You paid the vanity publisher several thousand dollars and, in turn, you wound up with cartons of your printed masterpiece taking up space in your basement, garage or living room. Having spent all that money on the printing process, you had nothing left over for promotion. So, the book you poured your heart and soul into became holiday presents for your family, friends and anybody you saw walking down the street.

Today, the smart independent author goes a different route. Print-on-demand (or POD) publishing offers the author a chance to get his book into print, in many instances, for free. You upload your manuscript, create a cover, view the galleys, email back the proof, and the book files are sent to the printer. Many of these POD publishers will offer a distribution plan at a fairly reasonable cost. (By reasonable, I mean under $100). I purchased such a plan for my first book at Wordclay. Within a relatively short period of time, the book was showing up in several U.S. online bookseller sites and then began appearing in many international online stores, as well. I certainly didn't have the resources at my disposal to accomplish that.  But is it going to sell? Well, that’s up to me.

The downside to self-publishing is that you, the independent author, bear the sole responsibility for promotion. Organizing book tours, landing a spot on a national television show, and having hundreds show up for a book signing are all lofty goals. For the self-published, though, they may not be realistic goals. But even with limited internet skills, you can find places to review your books, learn how to build your own website, how to write your own press releases, engage in a virtual book tour, and how to blog and Twitter until your fingers bleed. You can even find places to host your book for free while you make a name for yourself. Basically, there are no limits on how to form a marketing plan to get your book “out there.”

All of this technical information is great, but I realize none of it really addresses the “Oh, you’re SELF-published” issue. When someone says this, you need to focus on several things. The most important is that you wrote a book. You devised a story line, created characters, developed the scenes, wrote a beginning, middle and ending -- all from the inner sanctum of your own mind. If this isn’t an accomplishment, I don’t know what is. Often, the person tossing out the comment has never written a book. But even if he or she has, you can’t let the comment minimize what you’ve done.

Second, the implication from this phrase is that your work is subpar and, therefore, not worthy of attention. To dismiss something without knowing anything about it is not unusual and not solely directed at independent authors. We are, unfortunately, a society where it’s easier to denounce something without bothering to look into it. Take the comment for what it is: a limited knowledge of what publishing today is all about. The comment is not about you and it’s certainly not about your book. It’s simply someone’s opinion.

Third, if the comment is a reflection on your lack of financial reward, as I mentioned in my last post, writing cannot be about the money. For most of us, there simply isn’t any. We write because we want to write. If someone reads it, fantastic! If you make a few bucks along the way, that’s a great, big “Woo hoo!” But making or not making money doesn’t change the fact of what you’ve accomplished by writing your book. Don’t confuse success with the almighty dollar.

Nothing written here is intended to lessen the significance of having your book accepted for publication through traditional means. That achievement is one of which you should be extremely proud. The odds are clearly stacked against you, and to have succeeded puts you in a very special place. It is a dream held most sacred by anyone who puts pencil to paper, whether they admit it or not. But knowing the odds and the wealth of talent with whom you compete shouldn’t cause you to drive over your computer or use your pencils for firewood. Don’t let the competition discourage you from finding alternative methods for sharing your work.

Have you written a book? Good for you! That’s the important part. Now, get it out there in any way that works for you. Someone needs to read it.  Are you SELF-published?  Yup.  And darn proud of it!