Sunday, January 31, 2010
Back to Writing
I'm back to writing now, this time working on the sequel to The Summer of Pomba Gira. The working title is Ogoun on Michigan Avenue. It's going to head on address some aspects of racism, and definitely tackle perception of oneself as being powerless. It took me three and a half years to finish the first novel, mainly because I got stuck on a point of discussing internalized racism in the first novel. It was too close to home in many respects. This novel will be no exception.
Saturday, January 23, 2010
World's Shortest Pitch
Have you ever tried to make yourself into some ideal because you hoped it would give you a better life? The Summer of Pomba Gira is about two Chicago families who encounter one another in crisis despite their best efforts to meet that ideal. A story of relationships, it weaves the lives of those struggling with family conflict, internalized racism and addiction with the influence of spiritual intercessions and transformative moments. What might happen in our lives if influences beyond our comprehension intervened and we were only the backdrop to it?
Friday, January 22, 2010
Activism: Calmly Going Where No Author Dares to Go
Today I received copies of my book, to discover that the errors I'd paid to have fixed were not fixed. Additionally, 12 copies have thus far been shipped out to sellers through Xlibris. So there is a possibility that if you purchased the book between January 8-25, the manufacturer may have sent out an error copy instead of the copy that you were supposed to receive. My deepest apologies. I emailed Xlibris tonight to see what might be done. You will easily know if you received the wrong copy, because the cover title will have a ghost image of larger letters behind the title. If you aren't sure, another easy check is to look at page 63, second line from the bottom. If the last word in that sentence says "would" instead of "wouldn't" then you received the error copy.
I believe it is not the fault of the Xlibris Indiana people, despite their very best Pomba Gira party efforts. It may in fact, be the Canadian manufacturers who actually process the work. The second review copy I received and approved for sale was fine, so I think that it was an order mix up. It's entirely possible your copy is fine, and they only sent me the wrong books. One can but hope.
After I got past hyperventilating about this, I just took it in stride and thought, you know, things are far worse that are going on in this world than 12 people getting the wrong copy. The Xlibris folks, despite all my blog teasing, have actually been wonderful thus far, and I fully expect peaceful resolution based on past experience of working with them. They've been really lovely folks.
It occurred to me that one solution to the problem is activism. I blog about it, I write in order to generate some, and by and large I believe in activism. But activism's gotten a bad reputation these days. I think it's because a lot of people mistake waving an angry fist for being activism. Maybe it's because the opposite of activism in some people's minds might be being passive.
As silly as it sounds to have to say this, the root word of activism is "active." It's not "aggressive" or "blaming" or "passing the buck." If it were, we'd call it aggressivism, blamism or passing-the-buckism, now wouldn't we? Those all sound terribly idiotic, yet that's what some forms of what we refer to as activism have actually become.
According to Merriam-Webster, the term activism means "a doctrine or practice that emphasizes direct vigorous action especially in support of or opposition to one side of a controversial issue" and was first used in 1915.
I find it interesting that as a society we've tipped the scales in our emphasis of the "or opposition to" part of the definition. We're all "power to the people" which in theory, I love, but in what I've seen involves angry jeers, yelling, fist waving, flag burning and trash can tipping. Activism is fast going the way of feminism, moving so far in one direction as to make most of the people who could benefit from it want nothing to do with it.
For me, I'm heading toward the other side on this to see what happens. Just about anything can happen, and it's entirely up to me to see where it goes. I view activism as taking some action and being active in a process. I have no problem with direct, vigorous action, in support of something, namely, peaceful resolution of a publishing glitch.
Well, no, perhaps I'm not up with the "vigorous" part. That usually involves some level of force. I'm not at all against using my power, but I believe that all power must be balanced with some wisdom. Instead, Merriam-Webster provides synonyms for "vigorous" and my, they have quite a range...Go look it up if you're trying to avoid housework. I'm selecting "lusty" because it's got a nifty definition I find somewhat to my liking:
Lusty - implies exuberant energy and capacity for enjoyment. That would summarize my outlook on my better days, so I've determined that I'm going to operate as if this was one of my better days.
I shall take my exuberant energy and capacity for enjoyment and use it in direct support of my cause to see this peacefully resolved. Let's see where this goes!
I believe it is not the fault of the Xlibris Indiana people, despite their very best Pomba Gira party efforts. It may in fact, be the Canadian manufacturers who actually process the work. The second review copy I received and approved for sale was fine, so I think that it was an order mix up. It's entirely possible your copy is fine, and they only sent me the wrong books. One can but hope.
After I got past hyperventilating about this, I just took it in stride and thought, you know, things are far worse that are going on in this world than 12 people getting the wrong copy. The Xlibris folks, despite all my blog teasing, have actually been wonderful thus far, and I fully expect peaceful resolution based on past experience of working with them. They've been really lovely folks.
It occurred to me that one solution to the problem is activism. I blog about it, I write in order to generate some, and by and large I believe in activism. But activism's gotten a bad reputation these days. I think it's because a lot of people mistake waving an angry fist for being activism. Maybe it's because the opposite of activism in some people's minds might be being passive.
As silly as it sounds to have to say this, the root word of activism is "active." It's not "aggressive" or "blaming" or "passing the buck." If it were, we'd call it aggressivism, blamism or passing-the-buckism, now wouldn't we? Those all sound terribly idiotic, yet that's what some forms of what we refer to as activism have actually become.
According to Merriam-Webster, the term activism means "a doctrine or practice that emphasizes direct vigorous action especially in support of or opposition to one side of a controversial issue" and was first used in 1915.
I find it interesting that as a society we've tipped the scales in our emphasis of the "or opposition to" part of the definition. We're all "power to the people" which in theory, I love, but in what I've seen involves angry jeers, yelling, fist waving, flag burning and trash can tipping. Activism is fast going the way of feminism, moving so far in one direction as to make most of the people who could benefit from it want nothing to do with it.
For me, I'm heading toward the other side on this to see what happens. Just about anything can happen, and it's entirely up to me to see where it goes. I view activism as taking some action and being active in a process. I have no problem with direct, vigorous action, in support of something, namely, peaceful resolution of a publishing glitch.
Well, no, perhaps I'm not up with the "vigorous" part. That usually involves some level of force. I'm not at all against using my power, but I believe that all power must be balanced with some wisdom. Instead, Merriam-Webster provides synonyms for "vigorous" and my, they have quite a range...Go look it up if you're trying to avoid housework. I'm selecting "lusty" because it's got a nifty definition I find somewhat to my liking:
Lusty - implies exuberant energy and capacity for enjoyment. That would summarize my outlook on my better days, so I've determined that I'm going to operate as if this was one of my better days.
I shall take my exuberant energy and capacity for enjoyment and use it in direct support of my cause to see this peacefully resolved. Let's see where this goes!
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
Why I wrote, why I write
I had a great appointment with a Jungian analyst tonight. A therapist - a psychologist no less. Who knew? What does a writer go to a Jungian analyst for, you might ask?
The process of self-exploration.
It was interesting that I came full circle in this process, because tonight we talked about why I'm doing this writing thing at all. It wasn't my question, it was his, but he wanted to know and to understand. Understanding me on my terms is a complex thing, so he must be a courageous sort. He knows I've got my day job, which has got nothing to do with writing fiction, and he knows I don't make any money off of doing this kind of fundraising writing project that I'm doing with The Summer of Pomba Gira. He wanted to understand if I'm looking to do a career change or something, and I said no.
I don't think I'd want to be a writer chasing after dollars. There's something for me about that that takes away from my pure enjoyment of the process and what it is I'm trying to accomplish. If I write for money, there's an expectation of sales, and a narrowly defined path where success if measured on somebody else's terms. I'd rather do it as a fundraiser for someone else, something I care about.
I explained it's about a sphere of influence. In my line of work, my regular career, we're not trained to be activists. Most people aren't trained to be activists, and frankly, if you try to learn it in a classroom setting, it's not partcularly easy. I learned from the people who were on the streets doing it, in communities, facing off with struggles every day that most people don't even realize exist.
Honestly, I didn't know how much I picked up from these folks. It seeped into me gradually, over a period of time. One day, a woman I worked with was reading Saul Alinsky for a class and said that she was on to me now, that I sounded a lot like him. I looked at her and blinked and said, "who?" About a year later, another woman I know said much the same thing, and was reading Paulo Friere's Pedagogy of the Oppressed. Again, my response was the same...who? I eventually got curious an read them both, and saw what they meant. I thought about the people in my life I'd been inspired by, and they were all activists who taught me the meaning of DOING.
Back to me and the Jungian analyst. We talked and I was able to convey that when you're doing something from deep inside of you, it may not be something that is fit for mainstream. Mainstream isn't going to like it, because it bucks the pre-ordained, pre-conceived ideas of what is marketable and ought to be distributed to the masses in order to keep us all well drugged.
There's a part of me long before I became this crazy writer chick, where I took the unconventional path, and defined success on my own terms. In my regular day job career, it's suited me well in terms of spheres of influence about the things that matter to me most. It's not too different with my writing. There are things that we don't talk about, things we do and experience on a mindboggling daily basis that never get talked about. Going to therapy is one of them, by way of example. Experiencing racism and internalizing it is another, one that we save for "safe" friends to talk about it with. Facing off with a constant bombardment of what are "ideal" ways to experience womanhood (or manhood for that matter) is another.
There are little islands of us everywhere, struggling with what we believe and who we believe and if we even believe in ourselves at all. We put on the smile and keep moving on. Except where is it we're moving to, or what is it we're moving toward? Is it that ideal of somebody else's expectation of us? Or the one we told ourselves was really ours, and that if only we "make it" to that something on the horizon, then we'll be acceptable? That day will never come, if we don't start with knowing that we already are.
So my writing has no answers. If it gives pause momentarily from the grind we find ourselves in, to find some magic or something sacred in what's presently and currently surrounding us that has nothing to do with escapism, but brings forth some awareness, then that's good. Then the sphere of influence I'd hoped to accomplish has been achieved. Make it your own. Host a Pomba Gira party and be sure to invite me. Better still, be inspired and live your dream.
The process of self-exploration.
It was interesting that I came full circle in this process, because tonight we talked about why I'm doing this writing thing at all. It wasn't my question, it was his, but he wanted to know and to understand. Understanding me on my terms is a complex thing, so he must be a courageous sort. He knows I've got my day job, which has got nothing to do with writing fiction, and he knows I don't make any money off of doing this kind of fundraising writing project that I'm doing with The Summer of Pomba Gira. He wanted to understand if I'm looking to do a career change or something, and I said no.
I don't think I'd want to be a writer chasing after dollars. There's something for me about that that takes away from my pure enjoyment of the process and what it is I'm trying to accomplish. If I write for money, there's an expectation of sales, and a narrowly defined path where success if measured on somebody else's terms. I'd rather do it as a fundraiser for someone else, something I care about.
I explained it's about a sphere of influence. In my line of work, my regular career, we're not trained to be activists. Most people aren't trained to be activists, and frankly, if you try to learn it in a classroom setting, it's not partcularly easy. I learned from the people who were on the streets doing it, in communities, facing off with struggles every day that most people don't even realize exist.
Honestly, I didn't know how much I picked up from these folks. It seeped into me gradually, over a period of time. One day, a woman I worked with was reading Saul Alinsky for a class and said that she was on to me now, that I sounded a lot like him. I looked at her and blinked and said, "who?" About a year later, another woman I know said much the same thing, and was reading Paulo Friere's Pedagogy of the Oppressed. Again, my response was the same...who? I eventually got curious an read them both, and saw what they meant. I thought about the people in my life I'd been inspired by, and they were all activists who taught me the meaning of DOING.
Back to me and the Jungian analyst. We talked and I was able to convey that when you're doing something from deep inside of you, it may not be something that is fit for mainstream. Mainstream isn't going to like it, because it bucks the pre-ordained, pre-conceived ideas of what is marketable and ought to be distributed to the masses in order to keep us all well drugged.
There's a part of me long before I became this crazy writer chick, where I took the unconventional path, and defined success on my own terms. In my regular day job career, it's suited me well in terms of spheres of influence about the things that matter to me most. It's not too different with my writing. There are things that we don't talk about, things we do and experience on a mindboggling daily basis that never get talked about. Going to therapy is one of them, by way of example. Experiencing racism and internalizing it is another, one that we save for "safe" friends to talk about it with. Facing off with a constant bombardment of what are "ideal" ways to experience womanhood (or manhood for that matter) is another.
There are little islands of us everywhere, struggling with what we believe and who we believe and if we even believe in ourselves at all. We put on the smile and keep moving on. Except where is it we're moving to, or what is it we're moving toward? Is it that ideal of somebody else's expectation of us? Or the one we told ourselves was really ours, and that if only we "make it" to that something on the horizon, then we'll be acceptable? That day will never come, if we don't start with knowing that we already are.
So my writing has no answers. If it gives pause momentarily from the grind we find ourselves in, to find some magic or something sacred in what's presently and currently surrounding us that has nothing to do with escapism, but brings forth some awareness, then that's good. Then the sphere of influence I'd hoped to accomplish has been achieved. Make it your own. Host a Pomba Gira party and be sure to invite me. Better still, be inspired and live your dream.
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
My Brother Said He'd Buy My Book if I Wrote a Blog About Him
Okay, now bro' pay up! Actually, no, he said he'd buy the book anyway and wanted to know if I'd posted his name or not on my blog. I told him that I'd only talked about him, but never by name. We all deserve our moment in the spotlight, so I've decided to throw caution to the wind and give him his. It's one way to find out if he reads my blog at some distant point in the future or not. Just listen for the yelling...
Renfisher Main is my brother. He's quite proud I've written a novel, although he's not quite sure what it's about. He can join the ranks of our readers in 5 other states in that regard. I'm curious to see if he'll talk to me after he reads it.
There you go, Renfisher, now go buy that book!
Renfisher Main is my brother. He's quite proud I've written a novel, although he's not quite sure what it's about. He can join the ranks of our readers in 5 other states in that regard. I'm curious to see if he'll talk to me after he reads it.
There you go, Renfisher, now go buy that book!
Coast to Coast, Pomba Gira Makes Her Rounds
I've checked on the Xlibris site today to see how sales of the book are doing. There have been 9 officially shipped out so far, although word has it that there are more sales in the pipeline. The sales portion tells me what cities the book has shipped to thus far. So far, the book is making it's way to Wisconsin, Illinois, South Carolina, California and South Dakota. Very nice! 9 copies sold = $45.00 in author royalties, or $22.50 each for the two American Indian organizations I've committed to donating the royalties to.
It's nice know where she's going to excert her influence next. I didn't count the Canary Islands, because technically that was a trade and not a purchase, but the book made it there, too!
It's nice know where she's going to excert her influence next. I didn't count the Canary Islands, because technically that was a trade and not a purchase, but the book made it there, too!
Sunday, January 17, 2010
Fame, Family and Friends
The head cold must be going now, or the Nyquil's kicking in. I'm feeling - Inspired!
So I've got this famous relative in the Main family, that no one's ever met or talks about. Except her mother, and I'm sure her mother wouldn't make things like having a famous daughter up or anything like that. The problem is, we share the same name, Oleander Main, and boy is she going to be pissed off when someone figures out that we're related.
It's not like I haven't tried to contact her before. Her mother gave me her address and I wrote some years ago. I even found a way to email her just recently. But I doubt she's going to contact me. She's probably thinking I want money or something like that. I'm sure all the Main's hit her up for money, or "Can you get an autograph from Castro for me next time you're in Cuba?" or "Can we just stay a few weeks with you at your chalet in Harlem?" Sure, I know just how pesky family can be, but really now, I'd think she'd want to know that her second cousin twice removed was staking a claim to fame in self-publishing this crazy novel. But most likely she thinks, "Oh damn, it's Oleander again, probably going to go on about us flying around like hawks in the day and wanting me to send my spit to Utah again."
Actually this time, I just want to warn her. I'm thinking the fame of a blockbuster like The Summer of Pomba Gira will be too much for her. She's the refined sort, you know the kind, eats with a fork and knife? I picture her at the posh, jet-setting parties she's known to frequent, having fans (my fans) coming up to her with a pen (or pen knife, depending on how they take the novel) and asking for an autograph (or thier money back) and her not really knowing what to make of it.
We've actually never met, but we've likely both got a certain level of popularity (piles of hate mail) due to our charm (ability to offend large masses of people). So I'd like her to know that this is coming so that she can be prepared (duck and cover). Particularly, I'd like to warn her so that when she sets foot in Brazil again, she's well aware that her distant cousin namesake has achieved fame in a way unique to our family.
It doesn't help that we somewhat resemble one another, or that her photo on her book (Managing Your Proctology Exam - 1st edition) would do equally well as the face to launch a thousand dartboards. I'm quite sure, like the readers of this blog, she has no idea of who or what Pomba Gira is. Frankly, I believe that being the namesake of possibly the first American author to publish a fictional novel with Pomba Gira in it would be lost on her.
Failing in my stalking attempts on my famed cousin, I've proceeded to stalk my less famous family on Facebook. I'm sure they've reached the point of thinking "If I just friend her, will she go away?" This comes after having emailed them 600 times to ask them to buy the book. Some have come up with clever ways to hide, but to no avail, I find them anyway. However, owing to the previous family history of having a published author embarrass the family, they aren't going to touch me with a 10 foot pole. you certainly won' find any Mains on my list of friends in Facebook. The nerve!
Friends, on the other hand, are a wonderful thing. Most of my friends haven't read my book, and let's face it, my cousin's hasn't made the New York Times best seller list. So they're blissfully unaware of being associated with me being anything more thana good time with a Sea Monkey-ish kind of gal. Besides, they've been advertising my name for years, on the bathroom walls of only the finest establishments. It probably accounts for my cousin's fame. So now, they have a different kind of wall: The Facebook Wall.
This is the place for each and every one of us to make our mark on the virtual world. We can all be famous on Facebook, at least, among our ever-widening circle of friends. I like my Facebook friends, and enjoy reading their posts. They can use my name as often as they like, because really, if somebody gets offended, I'll just blame it all on my erstwhile cousin.
So I've got this famous relative in the Main family, that no one's ever met or talks about. Except her mother, and I'm sure her mother wouldn't make things like having a famous daughter up or anything like that. The problem is, we share the same name, Oleander Main, and boy is she going to be pissed off when someone figures out that we're related.
It's not like I haven't tried to contact her before. Her mother gave me her address and I wrote some years ago. I even found a way to email her just recently. But I doubt she's going to contact me. She's probably thinking I want money or something like that. I'm sure all the Main's hit her up for money, or "Can you get an autograph from Castro for me next time you're in Cuba?" or "Can we just stay a few weeks with you at your chalet in Harlem?" Sure, I know just how pesky family can be, but really now, I'd think she'd want to know that her second cousin twice removed was staking a claim to fame in self-publishing this crazy novel. But most likely she thinks, "Oh damn, it's Oleander again, probably going to go on about us flying around like hawks in the day and wanting me to send my spit to Utah again."
Actually this time, I just want to warn her. I'm thinking the fame of a blockbuster like The Summer of Pomba Gira will be too much for her. She's the refined sort, you know the kind, eats with a fork and knife? I picture her at the posh, jet-setting parties she's known to frequent, having fans (my fans) coming up to her with a pen (or pen knife, depending on how they take the novel) and asking for an autograph (or thier money back) and her not really knowing what to make of it.
We've actually never met, but we've likely both got a certain level of popularity (piles of hate mail) due to our charm (ability to offend large masses of people). So I'd like her to know that this is coming so that she can be prepared (duck and cover). Particularly, I'd like to warn her so that when she sets foot in Brazil again, she's well aware that her distant cousin namesake has achieved fame in a way unique to our family.
It doesn't help that we somewhat resemble one another, or that her photo on her book (Managing Your Proctology Exam - 1st edition) would do equally well as the face to launch a thousand dartboards. I'm quite sure, like the readers of this blog, she has no idea of who or what Pomba Gira is. Frankly, I believe that being the namesake of possibly the first American author to publish a fictional novel with Pomba Gira in it would be lost on her.
Failing in my stalking attempts on my famed cousin, I've proceeded to stalk my less famous family on Facebook. I'm sure they've reached the point of thinking "If I just friend her, will she go away?" This comes after having emailed them 600 times to ask them to buy the book. Some have come up with clever ways to hide, but to no avail, I find them anyway. However, owing to the previous family history of having a published author embarrass the family, they aren't going to touch me with a 10 foot pole. you certainly won' find any Mains on my list of friends in Facebook. The nerve!
Friends, on the other hand, are a wonderful thing. Most of my friends haven't read my book, and let's face it, my cousin's hasn't made the New York Times best seller list. So they're blissfully unaware of being associated with me being anything more thana good time with a Sea Monkey-ish kind of gal. Besides, they've been advertising my name for years, on the bathroom walls of only the finest establishments. It probably accounts for my cousin's fame. So now, they have a different kind of wall: The Facebook Wall.
This is the place for each and every one of us to make our mark on the virtual world. We can all be famous on Facebook, at least, among our ever-widening circle of friends. I like my Facebook friends, and enjoy reading their posts. They can use my name as often as they like, because really, if somebody gets offended, I'll just blame it all on my erstwhile cousin.
Saturday, January 16, 2010
Outted and Out
I am feeling uninspired today, so I'll just share a true story of mine. A couple of years ago, I was working in this place and they did a diversity training for all 60 or so of the staff. One of the exercises they did was to have us all line up, shoulder to shoulder, out in the parking lot. So, there we were, facing the building, with the grass behind us.
In the place I worked in at the time, I wore suits sometimes. I've got a terminal degree, which doesn't mean you die once you get it, but it certainly feels like you will as you're headed toward it. I'm blondish and have blue eyes. This is just to give you a point of reference for what happened next.
So the facilitator asked us questions, and if the question applied to you, depending on what it was, you'd either take a step forward or a step backward. I don't remember what all of the questions were, but they were things like "If your parents expected you to go to college, take a step forward," or "if a relative of yours was killed by gunfire, take a step backward."
By the end of the exercise, everyone was standing in a different place than they were before. The facilitator asked us to look around and see where people were. One of my friends called out, "Hey, where's Oleander?!" This was because I was the farthest back, way back in the grass and almost hidden from view. Despite my terminal degree, assumptions based on how I look, and stylish suits. I should mention as well that I am short, so I don't take particularly big steps.
Insofar as diversity exercises go, it was a good one, and helped people to visually see things they hadn't before. But I left it feeling outted in some way. Like there are things I know about myself and who I am and how I grew up that I know and my friends know about me, but I didn't necessarily want 60 people at work to know about me.
I was irrationally irritable for the rest of that day. I could have stayed there with it, but at the time I was working on the Summer of Pomba Gira, and so I took some of what I was feeling related to that and put it in the story.
In the place I worked in at the time, I wore suits sometimes. I've got a terminal degree, which doesn't mean you die once you get it, but it certainly feels like you will as you're headed toward it. I'm blondish and have blue eyes. This is just to give you a point of reference for what happened next.
So the facilitator asked us questions, and if the question applied to you, depending on what it was, you'd either take a step forward or a step backward. I don't remember what all of the questions were, but they were things like "If your parents expected you to go to college, take a step forward," or "if a relative of yours was killed by gunfire, take a step backward."
By the end of the exercise, everyone was standing in a different place than they were before. The facilitator asked us to look around and see where people were. One of my friends called out, "Hey, where's Oleander?!" This was because I was the farthest back, way back in the grass and almost hidden from view. Despite my terminal degree, assumptions based on how I look, and stylish suits. I should mention as well that I am short, so I don't take particularly big steps.
Insofar as diversity exercises go, it was a good one, and helped people to visually see things they hadn't before. But I left it feeling outted in some way. Like there are things I know about myself and who I am and how I grew up that I know and my friends know about me, but I didn't necessarily want 60 people at work to know about me.
I was irrationally irritable for the rest of that day. I could have stayed there with it, but at the time I was working on the Summer of Pomba Gira, and so I took some of what I was feeling related to that and put it in the story.
Thursday, January 14, 2010
Clearly, They Fear Me...Censored No More...
An interesting thing happened on my way to the blog...
I was considering where else I might post about The Summer of Pomba Gira, in order to generate some interest. So I posted to the Facebook Just Fans portion of the New York Times, the Chicago Tribune, the Chicago Reader, CNN, Fox News, and that wasn't a problem at all. Then I went to the White House, because I know that our President and First Lady, being as stylish and as well read as they are, typify my readers. I thought, hey, why not?
So I post on the Just Fans part of their site, and nothing shows up. I do it again, still nothing. I felt that I was being virtually censored by the MAN, so I emailed the White House directly.
I probably wouldn't have cared too terribly, were it not for the fact that one time I posted something serious to the administration, got no response to that, but found myself on their mailing list for their press releases and promotion of the administration's agenda. I did not ask for this, but apparently, David Axelrod liked me. He hasn't friended me yet on Facebook, but given his propensity for sending me unsolicited emails, I expect someday he shall.
So I figured, you send me your press releases, it's my turn, Bud! But then, when I posted them, they disappeared. I checked from my account, where it said I'd posted, yet I could not see them when I went to the page. So I emailed the White House.
A few hours later, I was looking for something on Google related to my book, and discovered instead they'd posted my wall stuff to a links board. So it's possible they never truly meant to censor me. I will take this under consideration when I draw up my list for the Summer of Pomba Gira Party.
I was considering where else I might post about The Summer of Pomba Gira, in order to generate some interest. So I posted to the Facebook Just Fans portion of the New York Times, the Chicago Tribune, the Chicago Reader, CNN, Fox News, and that wasn't a problem at all. Then I went to the White House, because I know that our President and First Lady, being as stylish and as well read as they are, typify my readers. I thought, hey, why not?
So I post on the Just Fans part of their site, and nothing shows up. I do it again, still nothing. I felt that I was being virtually censored by the MAN, so I emailed the White House directly.
I probably wouldn't have cared too terribly, were it not for the fact that one time I posted something serious to the administration, got no response to that, but found myself on their mailing list for their press releases and promotion of the administration's agenda. I did not ask for this, but apparently, David Axelrod liked me. He hasn't friended me yet on Facebook, but given his propensity for sending me unsolicited emails, I expect someday he shall.
So I figured, you send me your press releases, it's my turn, Bud! But then, when I posted them, they disappeared. I checked from my account, where it said I'd posted, yet I could not see them when I went to the page. So I emailed the White House.
A few hours later, I was looking for something on Google related to my book, and discovered instead they'd posted my wall stuff to a links board. So it's possible they never truly meant to censor me. I will take this under consideration when I draw up my list for the Summer of Pomba Gira Party.
The Joke's On Me, Bewildered Author Announces
If you've read the blog entitled "Oh Canada..." you'll know I was poking a bit of fun at Xlibris' related to how long it takes to get your book to you, the loyal reader, and why.
So you can imagine my surprise when today I get the mail, and I have a package from, you guessed it...Canada. Complete with a customs packing slip. I was somewhat startled, and opened the package to discover, yep, my book. I'd ordered one as a paying customer in order to see how long it would take the average reader to receive a copy. I'd ordered it prior to the changes I made to the cover and interior, and it took 14 days, which is less than I imagined that it would. There it was, my order, from Canada.
I can only take this to mean that the Canadians have now taken over, having realized it's much simpler to ship a book through customs than to go through it themselves.
Meanwhile, in order to keep me on my toes, the Xlibris New Jersey folks who apparently survived the wrath of God sent me on the same day a review copy of the new issue of the book. The cover looks much better.
I am perplexed because the Xlibris site (presumably in Bloomington, IN) specifically says that they cannot do international orders on their website. I believe that they are experiencing some identity confusion, and I will be sure to give them the name of a good psychologist.
So you can imagine my surprise when today I get the mail, and I have a package from, you guessed it...Canada. Complete with a customs packing slip. I was somewhat startled, and opened the package to discover, yep, my book. I'd ordered one as a paying customer in order to see how long it would take the average reader to receive a copy. I'd ordered it prior to the changes I made to the cover and interior, and it took 14 days, which is less than I imagined that it would. There it was, my order, from Canada.
I can only take this to mean that the Canadians have now taken over, having realized it's much simpler to ship a book through customs than to go through it themselves.
Meanwhile, in order to keep me on my toes, the Xlibris New Jersey folks who apparently survived the wrath of God sent me on the same day a review copy of the new issue of the book. The cover looks much better.
I am perplexed because the Xlibris site (presumably in Bloomington, IN) specifically says that they cannot do international orders on their website. I believe that they are experiencing some identity confusion, and I will be sure to give them the name of a good psychologist.
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
Good Karma Marketing and Success
Hello,
Just thought I'd post an update on what I've been doing to promote the sale of the book for the fundraising.
1. Emailed organizations to whom I'll be sending the donations.
2. Emailed friends and family and select colleagues.
3. Posted a free press release.
4. Developed a Facebook page.
5. Contacted Geraldo Rivera at Fox News.
6. Contacted three major NDN Country newspapers.
7. Posted a listing of the book to another self-publishing site
8. Posted on relevant FB links, to anyone I thought might be interested.
9. Posted on Multiply to sites that might be interested in the book.
Additionally, I have traded a copy with another grassroots author who was kind enough to agree to it, and I have bought 4 boxes of girlscout cookies in trade for someone agreeing to buy my book.
In terms of the fundraising aspect, my goal would be to raise enough for these two organizations for it to be worthwhile having gone and done this at all. I could have just cut a check to each for the amount it cost me to self-publish and been done with it, not having published The Summer of Pomba Gira at all. But then, it would have been easier. Who likes easy? No, it would have been personally safer to hide behind a checkbook and sometimes we need a little adventure in our lives!
In terms of the readership, my goal would be to give them something to think about, some paradigm shifting, a different perspective. I've been told that I often put things out there that sit like ticking time bombs, that go "kaboom!" a few days later when they emerge in people's consciousness and they have an "ah ha" experience. I'd like this novel to do that for folks, but I didn't set out to do that. However, I don't generally set out to do that when it happens with folks I know, either. It actually did happen to me in relation to this book, after I read the review copy.
One pre-publication reader didn't like the ending of the book, and it was the first time I'd heard that. I respect her opinion, and would love for her to review the book on the review page, as I respect criticism as well and want readers to know all opinions. So when I was re-reading it at the review copy stage, I was mindful of this feedback.
I didn't change the ending, but I found myself reading it and wondering what it was about the ending that was challenging. As I read it, I went back to previous scenes and I realized that I'd done some foreshadowing at several points related to the paradigm shifting, and that I'd done it without consciously being aware of having done it. Tracking it back this way, I realized the importance of some key elements I included, and had several "ah ha" moment myself.
And this leads to the idea of success and how it's evolving for me. I'd feel the novel was successful if it raises money for these organizations, and if the readers can relate to some aspect. But it's also a success for me personally. Not because I self-published and gain acolades of my friends and family. It's because it conveyed some critical concepts to a viewing audience in a way that I haven't seen done before. I read a lot, and I admire the authors I read. I admire them because they say the things I'm thinking that I couldn't. I think I set the bar in terms of my own writing as being to make it to the base of the mountain that they've already climbed.
However, in reading the review copy, in some respects, I went beyond those mountain peaks and hadn't realized it. Not because I'm a great writer, but because I'm a bold one.
I had a situation that occurred a few years ago, where I went into an important meeting and needed to assist in a paradigm shift for something that influences a lot of people. No one there knew me, and I afterward, I felt very outrageous and bold. I called an activist friend of mine and processed it. I said I felt like Saul Alinsky had channeled through me, and that I'd made myself so extreme and radical in that meeting, that any message I might calmly convey afterward might actually seem reasonable.
He said to me that I kicked the door open so that others might walk through. I was really grateful he said this, and helped me to put what I'd done into perspective, because I felt organically radical and out there, doing what I'd done. And it feels this way, now.
So I've put a book out there to use as a fundraiser, that may not make me the most popular Sea Monkey in the brine. It's a major risk on many levels. Yet, if in writing what I have, if the very existence of it allows other authors or community members to walk through that door, then that's a monumental success.
So at least it exists now and it's out there.
Just thought I'd post an update on what I've been doing to promote the sale of the book for the fundraising.
1. Emailed organizations to whom I'll be sending the donations.
2. Emailed friends and family and select colleagues.
3. Posted a free press release.
4. Developed a Facebook page.
5. Contacted Geraldo Rivera at Fox News.
6. Contacted three major NDN Country newspapers.
7. Posted a listing of the book to another self-publishing site
8. Posted on relevant FB links, to anyone I thought might be interested.
9. Posted on Multiply to sites that might be interested in the book.
Additionally, I have traded a copy with another grassroots author who was kind enough to agree to it, and I have bought 4 boxes of girlscout cookies in trade for someone agreeing to buy my book.
In terms of the fundraising aspect, my goal would be to raise enough for these two organizations for it to be worthwhile having gone and done this at all. I could have just cut a check to each for the amount it cost me to self-publish and been done with it, not having published The Summer of Pomba Gira at all. But then, it would have been easier. Who likes easy? No, it would have been personally safer to hide behind a checkbook and sometimes we need a little adventure in our lives!
In terms of the readership, my goal would be to give them something to think about, some paradigm shifting, a different perspective. I've been told that I often put things out there that sit like ticking time bombs, that go "kaboom!" a few days later when they emerge in people's consciousness and they have an "ah ha" experience. I'd like this novel to do that for folks, but I didn't set out to do that. However, I don't generally set out to do that when it happens with folks I know, either. It actually did happen to me in relation to this book, after I read the review copy.
One pre-publication reader didn't like the ending of the book, and it was the first time I'd heard that. I respect her opinion, and would love for her to review the book on the review page, as I respect criticism as well and want readers to know all opinions. So when I was re-reading it at the review copy stage, I was mindful of this feedback.
I didn't change the ending, but I found myself reading it and wondering what it was about the ending that was challenging. As I read it, I went back to previous scenes and I realized that I'd done some foreshadowing at several points related to the paradigm shifting, and that I'd done it without consciously being aware of having done it. Tracking it back this way, I realized the importance of some key elements I included, and had several "ah ha" moment myself.
And this leads to the idea of success and how it's evolving for me. I'd feel the novel was successful if it raises money for these organizations, and if the readers can relate to some aspect. But it's also a success for me personally. Not because I self-published and gain acolades of my friends and family. It's because it conveyed some critical concepts to a viewing audience in a way that I haven't seen done before. I read a lot, and I admire the authors I read. I admire them because they say the things I'm thinking that I couldn't. I think I set the bar in terms of my own writing as being to make it to the base of the mountain that they've already climbed.
However, in reading the review copy, in some respects, I went beyond those mountain peaks and hadn't realized it. Not because I'm a great writer, but because I'm a bold one.
I had a situation that occurred a few years ago, where I went into an important meeting and needed to assist in a paradigm shift for something that influences a lot of people. No one there knew me, and I afterward, I felt very outrageous and bold. I called an activist friend of mine and processed it. I said I felt like Saul Alinsky had channeled through me, and that I'd made myself so extreme and radical in that meeting, that any message I might calmly convey afterward might actually seem reasonable.
He said to me that I kicked the door open so that others might walk through. I was really grateful he said this, and helped me to put what I'd done into perspective, because I felt organically radical and out there, doing what I'd done. And it feels this way, now.
So I've put a book out there to use as a fundraiser, that may not make me the most popular Sea Monkey in the brine. It's a major risk on many levels. Yet, if in writing what I have, if the very existence of it allows other authors or community members to walk through that door, then that's a monumental success.
So at least it exists now and it's out there.
Monday, January 11, 2010
Oleander Main Related to Field Mice
Oleander Main is related to field mice, DNA reports confirm.
On the news this week they've been talking about a Supreme Court ruling that people who generate DNA forensic reports need to testify in court cases where their reports are presented. I've actually had several DNA tests done. I fondly refer to it as sending my spit to Utah, because that's where one analyzing facility is. I've also sent my spit to Florida. I can spit pretty far when I set my mind to it.
Actually what they call it isn't sending your spit, but a buccal cheek swab. Anyway, in the Main family, we've had this family story that we're really descended from hawks. They told me we used to fly around in circles back in the day. Of course, not everyone in the extended Main family believes this. So of course, I had to find out.
Sure enough, the results came back and through CODIS forensic profiling of the autosomal DNA testing, they determined that we are, in fact descended from hawks. However, it also indicated a field mice admixture that was particularly troublesome. I didn't know what to make of it, since hawks are birds of prey, and, regrettably, field mice are sometimes their dinner.
I pondered this for a spell, romantically imagining the bond that formed between my hawk and field mice ancestors. How did they go from "You're my lunch!" to forging a bond that would give me such a unique heritage? I imagined that they had to hide their love from one another, lest they be ridiculed or persecuted for their cross-species love.
Of course, I checked the census records, which do not say that any of my ancestors were either hawks or field mice. They record the Main family heritage as being strictly horse. Now, we do have a lot of horses in the family, and I look more horse than anything. I can't even begin to imagine how the horse fell in love with the hawk/field mouse ancestor. But stranger things have happened.
Now my father, he LOOKED very hawk like, and back in the day, farmers used to take out their guns whenever they found him flapping around their chicken coops. Or so I was told. As for me, I favor my maternal side in terms looks. They all look like horses. But I think I take after my father's hawk like personality. It particularly shows when I'm swooping in to make a kill. Startles the heck out of them, given that they don't expect horses to swoop.
But the field mice issue is another matter entirely. When I got the results, I was stunned. I talked to a field mouse I had just met when visiting NYC for a meeting, and told him I discovered I have field mouse in me.
Here's where it gets interesting. He said it made perfect sense to him. He told me that the first time I spoke, he was startled because instead of the neigh he customarily expects from a horse, he heard a squeak that somehow didn't fit. He said, "not to be offensive or anything, but your body shape is more field mouse. You're kind of egg shaped like field mouse females are."
Of course, I was startled by this news, never having given it any thought before. I mean, I like field mice same as the rest, but am I related to field mice? I've had field mice for friends all my life, we get along pretty well...
Then I told him of the confirmation of my hawk ancestry through the DNA testing. He had me get up and start flapping my arms, and had me turn my head in profile so he could get a really good view. Then he assessed, he could see it, clearly I have hawk in me.
Is it really how we look, or is it who we are? Would this new Supreme Court ruling effect me, should the hawk or field mice populace decide to take me to court? Will the people in Utah or Florida have to testify?
I don't really know what to make of it. I know the family stories, and with the DNA testing, I maintain that we are definitely hawks, and I'm going to learn more about that. But Google and the Internet just aren't the place to do it. To really understand my hawkness, I'm going to need to be around hawks, learn from hawks, and come to comprehend my hawk heritage. I also need to examine this field mice piece, and integrate that into my identity, too. It's sad that people are such haters and discredit field mice so.
It's a journey like any other. I've been raised a horse, look like a horse, and benefit from a horsist society. It's easier to pretend I don't know and just go along acting like a horse. But I won't, because there's a part of me that really loves my hawk and horse and field mouse ancestors. I wouldn't be here if they hadn't figured out a way to get along and love one another. I wish our society today was more like that.
On the news this week they've been talking about a Supreme Court ruling that people who generate DNA forensic reports need to testify in court cases where their reports are presented. I've actually had several DNA tests done. I fondly refer to it as sending my spit to Utah, because that's where one analyzing facility is. I've also sent my spit to Florida. I can spit pretty far when I set my mind to it.
Actually what they call it isn't sending your spit, but a buccal cheek swab. Anyway, in the Main family, we've had this family story that we're really descended from hawks. They told me we used to fly around in circles back in the day. Of course, not everyone in the extended Main family believes this. So of course, I had to find out.
Sure enough, the results came back and through CODIS forensic profiling of the autosomal DNA testing, they determined that we are, in fact descended from hawks. However, it also indicated a field mice admixture that was particularly troublesome. I didn't know what to make of it, since hawks are birds of prey, and, regrettably, field mice are sometimes their dinner.
I pondered this for a spell, romantically imagining the bond that formed between my hawk and field mice ancestors. How did they go from "You're my lunch!" to forging a bond that would give me such a unique heritage? I imagined that they had to hide their love from one another, lest they be ridiculed or persecuted for their cross-species love.
Of course, I checked the census records, which do not say that any of my ancestors were either hawks or field mice. They record the Main family heritage as being strictly horse. Now, we do have a lot of horses in the family, and I look more horse than anything. I can't even begin to imagine how the horse fell in love with the hawk/field mouse ancestor. But stranger things have happened.
Now my father, he LOOKED very hawk like, and back in the day, farmers used to take out their guns whenever they found him flapping around their chicken coops. Or so I was told. As for me, I favor my maternal side in terms looks. They all look like horses. But I think I take after my father's hawk like personality. It particularly shows when I'm swooping in to make a kill. Startles the heck out of them, given that they don't expect horses to swoop.
But the field mice issue is another matter entirely. When I got the results, I was stunned. I talked to a field mouse I had just met when visiting NYC for a meeting, and told him I discovered I have field mouse in me.
Here's where it gets interesting. He said it made perfect sense to him. He told me that the first time I spoke, he was startled because instead of the neigh he customarily expects from a horse, he heard a squeak that somehow didn't fit. He said, "not to be offensive or anything, but your body shape is more field mouse. You're kind of egg shaped like field mouse females are."
Of course, I was startled by this news, never having given it any thought before. I mean, I like field mice same as the rest, but am I related to field mice? I've had field mice for friends all my life, we get along pretty well...
Then I told him of the confirmation of my hawk ancestry through the DNA testing. He had me get up and start flapping my arms, and had me turn my head in profile so he could get a really good view. Then he assessed, he could see it, clearly I have hawk in me.
Is it really how we look, or is it who we are? Would this new Supreme Court ruling effect me, should the hawk or field mice populace decide to take me to court? Will the people in Utah or Florida have to testify?
I don't really know what to make of it. I know the family stories, and with the DNA testing, I maintain that we are definitely hawks, and I'm going to learn more about that. But Google and the Internet just aren't the place to do it. To really understand my hawkness, I'm going to need to be around hawks, learn from hawks, and come to comprehend my hawk heritage. I also need to examine this field mice piece, and integrate that into my identity, too. It's sad that people are such haters and discredit field mice so.
It's a journey like any other. I've been raised a horse, look like a horse, and benefit from a horsist society. It's easier to pretend I don't know and just go along acting like a horse. But I won't, because there's a part of me that really loves my hawk and horse and field mouse ancestors. I wouldn't be here if they hadn't figured out a way to get along and love one another. I wish our society today was more like that.
Oh Canada! Discoveries made...
Hurray! We had our first Canadian visitor to the website! Welcome, Canadian!
I just discovered that in 60-90 days, The Summer of Pomba Gira will be listed with Amazon and Barnes & Noble online. Didn't know that! I did know that sales through other booksellers result in only a 10% royalty, and I'm not entirely sure of if that's on the retail list price, or on the actual purchase price they buy it at, which is discounted to them. This means that the book MAY be available to international buyers through those venues. However, the overall contribution to the fundraiser will be significantly less than if purchased through Xlibris directly. Purchasing through the other sites won't result in a faster ship time, because it's Print-On-Demand(POD) and therefore when you order, they literally make the book for you.
What I suspect actually occurs between the time that you order the book and when you receive it is that the Xlibris folks arrange to have a Pomba Gira party for you. I've heard they know how to party in Bloomington, IN, so I imagine it's like Carnivale or Mardi Gras, every time a copy of The Summer of Pomba Gira is sold. At the current rate, they're probably having a party every day! Thanks to YOU! If this keeps up, we'll generate new business for Indiana rehab programs, thus keeping the American economy strong! Just doing our part, since Joe Biden said we should. He's probably having his own Pomba Gira party over at the White House right now.
All I can say is thank God I didn't publish a book entitled "Managing Your Proctology Exam."
After the party they host in your honor, they send your order off to NJ. Why NJ, you ask? Because they REALLY know how to party there. No, seriously, aside from the physical publishing facility being there, I'm not really sure. So I Googled it, (New Jersey Famous For) and discovered that all answers to mundane questions may be found on the Internet. Apparently someone is trying to avoid housework as much as I am, and posted answers. If I piece it together, the nearest I can come up with as a reason to send your order to New Jersey is that they have lightbulbs there. That's very interesting, because I always imagined they did in IN, too. It only goes to show you how a Chicago hometown girl can learn a thing or two.
After they crank up the generator, and turn on the lightbulbs, they print your book and read it, cover to cover. Then they quote the characters and act the whole thing out an outdoor drama. It entertains the New Jersey folks to no end, or at least, until the generator goes out.
Frankly, I've never been to NJ, but I'm looking forward to seeing them flapping their wings and climbing up trees someday, as one scene in the book has that. I'm envisioning new dialogue, where they nearly roll out of the tree from laughter, that you bought this book at all.
That's when lightening strikes and they have to get a whole new crew in from...you guessed it, Canada. They're not nearly as likely to fall out of trees as we Americans are. A whole new labor force recruited from Canada, where only one of them knows about the book.
This is what takes so freaking long in publishing your book: Homeland Security. America takes these things seriously and the TSA all have copies of "Managing Your Proctology Exam." Several weeks after the bomb sniffing dogs have had their way with their luggage, our new Canadian workforce rapidly works to mail off the book to you, so they can get back home to where the people are saner.
Several of you having ordered the book having:
1. Donated to some great NDN causes,
2. Gotten people in Indiana to rehab one step faster,
3. Brought the wrath of God down on New Jersey folks,
Have also,
4. Emailed me that you've purchased the book and wonder why I've not posted new sales figures here or on my Facebook page.
This is because they don't tell me until it's SHIPPED, rather than when it's ordered. I imagine it's due to national security interests. So they wait until the Canadians have gone past the border check and back into their own lovely country, and only then do I see that a book has been sold.
All of this being said, book buyers, just pat yourself on the back for having done some really amazing things with an internet connection and a valid credit card number. And don't be surprised if a Canadian punches you next time you say you bought a book through Xlibris.
I just discovered that in 60-90 days, The Summer of Pomba Gira will be listed with Amazon and Barnes & Noble online. Didn't know that! I did know that sales through other booksellers result in only a 10% royalty, and I'm not entirely sure of if that's on the retail list price, or on the actual purchase price they buy it at, which is discounted to them. This means that the book MAY be available to international buyers through those venues. However, the overall contribution to the fundraiser will be significantly less than if purchased through Xlibris directly. Purchasing through the other sites won't result in a faster ship time, because it's Print-On-Demand(POD) and therefore when you order, they literally make the book for you.
What I suspect actually occurs between the time that you order the book and when you receive it is that the Xlibris folks arrange to have a Pomba Gira party for you. I've heard they know how to party in Bloomington, IN, so I imagine it's like Carnivale or Mardi Gras, every time a copy of The Summer of Pomba Gira is sold. At the current rate, they're probably having a party every day! Thanks to YOU! If this keeps up, we'll generate new business for Indiana rehab programs, thus keeping the American economy strong! Just doing our part, since Joe Biden said we should. He's probably having his own Pomba Gira party over at the White House right now.
All I can say is thank God I didn't publish a book entitled "Managing Your Proctology Exam."
After the party they host in your honor, they send your order off to NJ. Why NJ, you ask? Because they REALLY know how to party there. No, seriously, aside from the physical publishing facility being there, I'm not really sure. So I Googled it, (New Jersey Famous For) and discovered that all answers to mundane questions may be found on the Internet. Apparently someone is trying to avoid housework as much as I am, and posted answers. If I piece it together, the nearest I can come up with as a reason to send your order to New Jersey is that they have lightbulbs there. That's very interesting, because I always imagined they did in IN, too. It only goes to show you how a Chicago hometown girl can learn a thing or two.
After they crank up the generator, and turn on the lightbulbs, they print your book and read it, cover to cover. Then they quote the characters and act the whole thing out an outdoor drama. It entertains the New Jersey folks to no end, or at least, until the generator goes out.
Frankly, I've never been to NJ, but I'm looking forward to seeing them flapping their wings and climbing up trees someday, as one scene in the book has that. I'm envisioning new dialogue, where they nearly roll out of the tree from laughter, that you bought this book at all.
That's when lightening strikes and they have to get a whole new crew in from...you guessed it, Canada. They're not nearly as likely to fall out of trees as we Americans are. A whole new labor force recruited from Canada, where only one of them knows about the book.
This is what takes so freaking long in publishing your book: Homeland Security. America takes these things seriously and the TSA all have copies of "Managing Your Proctology Exam." Several weeks after the bomb sniffing dogs have had their way with their luggage, our new Canadian workforce rapidly works to mail off the book to you, so they can get back home to where the people are saner.
Several of you having ordered the book having:
1. Donated to some great NDN causes,
2. Gotten people in Indiana to rehab one step faster,
3. Brought the wrath of God down on New Jersey folks,
Have also,
4. Emailed me that you've purchased the book and wonder why I've not posted new sales figures here or on my Facebook page.
This is because they don't tell me until it's SHIPPED, rather than when it's ordered. I imagine it's due to national security interests. So they wait until the Canadians have gone past the border check and back into their own lovely country, and only then do I see that a book has been sold.
All of this being said, book buyers, just pat yourself on the back for having done some really amazing things with an internet connection and a valid credit card number. And don't be surprised if a Canadian punches you next time you say you bought a book through Xlibris.
Sunday, January 10, 2010
Winter Wonderland
It's freezing where I live and I haven't left the house in two days now. I've avoided housework, writing and typing up the manuscript that's done. Instead, I've discovered Facebook. It's a pretty neat place.
I've got some folks who read the book prior to publication who will be doing reviews on it at the other blog (see my profile) and we'll see if that helps the process. This is truly a grassroots endeavor. I put up the cost to publish this novel, and I'm happy to do that if it raises money for the two organizations, the Society of Indian Psychologists and the American Indian Center's Positive Pathways program. They're both doing great things in NDN country.
A friend sent me a posting from the UK of 6 women who self-published something together, and their startup costs were around $2400.00USD. Yikes! I wanted to have a nice finished product, but I didn't go crazy in any respect. My costs were a fourth of that. I liked the finished product and I hope the readers will, too.
My goal isn't to recoup my costs, because that's not what this project is about. I'm doing all of my marketing of it through word of mouth and free resources available to me. I've got my day job and alternative reality career to keep me in Starbucks and pay the bills.
I read somewhere once that from those give much, much is expected. I feel that way about my life. I wasn't raised with much and yet much has been given to me, and I feel blessed. I also hold a belief that when you do good acts, there's some good that naturally returns to you. It may not be in the form of money or acolades. Maybe for me it will be making new friends or just having this already great good life.
I've got some folks who read the book prior to publication who will be doing reviews on it at the other blog (see my profile) and we'll see if that helps the process. This is truly a grassroots endeavor. I put up the cost to publish this novel, and I'm happy to do that if it raises money for the two organizations, the Society of Indian Psychologists and the American Indian Center's Positive Pathways program. They're both doing great things in NDN country.
A friend sent me a posting from the UK of 6 women who self-published something together, and their startup costs were around $2400.00USD. Yikes! I wanted to have a nice finished product, but I didn't go crazy in any respect. My costs were a fourth of that. I liked the finished product and I hope the readers will, too.
My goal isn't to recoup my costs, because that's not what this project is about. I'm doing all of my marketing of it through word of mouth and free resources available to me. I've got my day job and alternative reality career to keep me in Starbucks and pay the bills.
I read somewhere once that from those give much, much is expected. I feel that way about my life. I wasn't raised with much and yet much has been given to me, and I feel blessed. I also hold a belief that when you do good acts, there's some good that naturally returns to you. It may not be in the form of money or acolades. Maybe for me it will be making new friends or just having this already great good life.
Friday, January 8, 2010
The Summer of Pomba Gira Now Available
Hello again,
All edits and final reviews done, here it is:
https://www2.xlibris.com/bookstore/bookdisplay.aspx?bookid=73208
I ordered a copy of the novel through Xlibris myself, before final edits were complete, in order to see how long the actual process takes from the reader perspective. Since it's Print On Demand, I expect to wait about 3 weeks to receive a copy. However, if they get the cover right this time, it's going to be well worth the wait. In the meantime, there are many things you can do, should you find yourself waiting for the novel to arrive at your door, having ordered it. In three weeks, you could change your life! Or your life could change you, depending on your experience of it.
Here's what I've been doing in the first week since ordering a copy: Set up a Facebook account, updated my website, re-read the novel and submitted more edits, communicated with at least 100 people about it. Reconnected with old friends. Made new ones. Journalled and discovered some things about myself. Ah, but that's for another novel...
In fact, I've discovered in the first week waiting that I've easily avoided housework altogether! Don't fret, you can, too.
Go enjoy life. Oh, and buy my book. Thanks!
All edits and final reviews done, here it is:
https://www2.xlibris.com/bookstore/bookdisplay.aspx?bookid=73208
I ordered a copy of the novel through Xlibris myself, before final edits were complete, in order to see how long the actual process takes from the reader perspective. Since it's Print On Demand, I expect to wait about 3 weeks to receive a copy. However, if they get the cover right this time, it's going to be well worth the wait. In the meantime, there are many things you can do, should you find yourself waiting for the novel to arrive at your door, having ordered it. In three weeks, you could change your life! Or your life could change you, depending on your experience of it.
Here's what I've been doing in the first week since ordering a copy: Set up a Facebook account, updated my website, re-read the novel and submitted more edits, communicated with at least 100 people about it. Reconnected with old friends. Made new ones. Journalled and discovered some things about myself. Ah, but that's for another novel...
In fact, I've discovered in the first week waiting that I've easily avoided housework altogether! Don't fret, you can, too.
Go enjoy life. Oh, and buy my book. Thanks!
Thursday, January 7, 2010
5 Copies Sold and Icelandic Visitors!
We're up to five copies sold now, hurray! I also noticed that we had an Icelandic visitor to my website! Now, if only Xlibris sold internationally...
I've started a new blog for reviews of The Summer of Pomba Gira, entitled, cleverly enough The Summer of Pomba Gira. If you go to my profile, you'll find it.
I've started a new blog for reviews of The Summer of Pomba Gira, entitled, cleverly enough The Summer of Pomba Gira. If you go to my profile, you'll find it.
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
Musical Decidedly Not in Pomba Gira's Future, Author Announces
I heard that a friend has decided to write a musical, about what I am not sure, but good for her! I'm determined that The Summer of Pomba Gira should not be made a musical. They seem to make musicals about the craziest things, but this should not be one of them.
Xlibris is fixing the optical illusion on the cover, and for a few days, the book won't be listed there until that's done. That, and my FINAL final edits.
Several of the ladies at the Starbuck's I frequent had the opportunity to see the Review Copy. They duly noted that in my picture, I am holding a Starbuck's cup of coffee. Most warriors hold shields; mine's a Venti dark roast.
Xlibris is fixing the optical illusion on the cover, and for a few days, the book won't be listed there until that's done. That, and my FINAL final edits.
Several of the ladies at the Starbuck's I frequent had the opportunity to see the Review Copy. They duly noted that in my picture, I am holding a Starbuck's cup of coffee. Most warriors hold shields; mine's a Venti dark roast.
Sunday, January 3, 2010
Two More Copies Sold and International Intrigue!
I am happy to announce the confirmation of at least two more copies of The Summer of Pomba Gira sold. This means our fundraising is up to $15.00, or $7.50 per organization. Just enough to get 2 cups of coffee or a small bottle of Tylenol. We'll get there, though, because this is all about an act of faith, isn't it?
I received my Author's Copy of the novel from Xlibris yesterday. I'm to review it and see if there are any more edits I want to pay through the nose for. They did a fantastic job on the cover, with the exception of one quirky part. There is an unusual ghost image of the cover title, which makes it appear to be an optical illusion. That wasn't a part of the design, so I'm getting them to see if they can fix it. In the meantime, I'll consider it number 5 on the growing list of returns on your investment:
1. Artwork suitable for framing
2. Dartboard entertainment
3. Fireplace kindling
4. Helping out worthwhile NDN organizations
5. Optical illusions
Rush right out and order one today, as it might be fixed soon. This way, you can have the version that wasn't fixed and impress your friends. Did you know that in stamp collecting, an error on a stamp can enhance its long term value? Stamps, covers on novels, who knows, we could be starting a trend!
How it works as something of an optical illusion is that in regular lighting, you can clearly see the ghost image, but in low lighting situations, it disappears completely. This gave me an idea...and that's always a dangerous thing...
You're intellectual, stunningly handsome, and you want to impress a date with your literary repetoire. You take said date on a fancy, candle lit dinner. Do you bring roses? No, thats so passe. Besides, you bought my book and now you're broke. Rather, you bring the copy of The Summer of Pomba Gira to impress your date, and give it to your date as a gift. Killing two birds with one stone, in my opinion, as there's a rose on the cover that won't wither away. A veritable testament to your potential in the relationship. Said date will be impressed, no doubt, with your creativity and charm.
In the low lighting of the restaurant, the ghostly image will not be seen. Upon returning your date home, he or she will consider the relative merits of calling you again. In passing and in the cold light of day, the date will look at the cover, see the ghostly title image, and begin to wonder if he or she needs glasses. The spectre of a future with bifocals will emerge, and there will be an unsettling moment of fear. The date will remember how young he or she felt with you that night, how very much alive, and so not-in-need of bifocals at that time. A call to your auspicious phone number will surely follow.
I won't be able to count helping your love life on my list of reasons to get the book, not without some kind of data. So feel free to email me with your success stories. If you're a real player, buy 20 copies.
Now, onto other exciting news!
I finally updated my website. It's not particularly easy for me to do this, especially when I forget my passwords, which often happens. While I was there, I noticed that there are features where you can track where visitors who look at your website are from. No worries, it's not like I know who you are or where you live. Just a general tracker of what time zone you live in. Apparently, my website has been visited about 300 times since I started it in June, and one visitor to it is from England, and two visitors to it are from Spain.
I know who the visitor from England is, but the two from Spain I don't know. How terribly exciting! Welcome, Spaniards! I can honestly say, given the history of indigenous people on this continent, I never in a million years expected to be saying that. Ah, but times are changing. Seriously, welcome! Of course, I don't know if they went beyond the website to reading this blog, but one can but hope.
I received my Author's Copy of the novel from Xlibris yesterday. I'm to review it and see if there are any more edits I want to pay through the nose for. They did a fantastic job on the cover, with the exception of one quirky part. There is an unusual ghost image of the cover title, which makes it appear to be an optical illusion. That wasn't a part of the design, so I'm getting them to see if they can fix it. In the meantime, I'll consider it number 5 on the growing list of returns on your investment:
1. Artwork suitable for framing
2. Dartboard entertainment
3. Fireplace kindling
4. Helping out worthwhile NDN organizations
5. Optical illusions
Rush right out and order one today, as it might be fixed soon. This way, you can have the version that wasn't fixed and impress your friends. Did you know that in stamp collecting, an error on a stamp can enhance its long term value? Stamps, covers on novels, who knows, we could be starting a trend!
How it works as something of an optical illusion is that in regular lighting, you can clearly see the ghost image, but in low lighting situations, it disappears completely. This gave me an idea...and that's always a dangerous thing...
You're intellectual, stunningly handsome, and you want to impress a date with your literary repetoire. You take said date on a fancy, candle lit dinner. Do you bring roses? No, thats so passe. Besides, you bought my book and now you're broke. Rather, you bring the copy of The Summer of Pomba Gira to impress your date, and give it to your date as a gift. Killing two birds with one stone, in my opinion, as there's a rose on the cover that won't wither away. A veritable testament to your potential in the relationship. Said date will be impressed, no doubt, with your creativity and charm.
In the low lighting of the restaurant, the ghostly image will not be seen. Upon returning your date home, he or she will consider the relative merits of calling you again. In passing and in the cold light of day, the date will look at the cover, see the ghostly title image, and begin to wonder if he or she needs glasses. The spectre of a future with bifocals will emerge, and there will be an unsettling moment of fear. The date will remember how young he or she felt with you that night, how very much alive, and so not-in-need of bifocals at that time. A call to your auspicious phone number will surely follow.
I won't be able to count helping your love life on my list of reasons to get the book, not without some kind of data. So feel free to email me with your success stories. If you're a real player, buy 20 copies.
Now, onto other exciting news!
I finally updated my website. It's not particularly easy for me to do this, especially when I forget my passwords, which often happens. While I was there, I noticed that there are features where you can track where visitors who look at your website are from. No worries, it's not like I know who you are or where you live. Just a general tracker of what time zone you live in. Apparently, my website has been visited about 300 times since I started it in June, and one visitor to it is from England, and two visitors to it are from Spain.
I know who the visitor from England is, but the two from Spain I don't know. How terribly exciting! Welcome, Spaniards! I can honestly say, given the history of indigenous people on this continent, I never in a million years expected to be saying that. Ah, but times are changing. Seriously, welcome! Of course, I don't know if they went beyond the website to reading this blog, but one can but hope.
Friday, January 1, 2010
I am the Walrus...or perhaps just the Sea Monkey...
Happy New Year, dearest blog followers, all four of you!
There's a song, by the Beatle's I believe, that has a line in it "I am the Walrus" and it's so random and way out there, I have no idea of what it means. It is, however, catchy enough that people occassionally burst forth singing just that line of the song spontaneously. At least, in my world, they do.
I was up until 3AM typing up a press release to be posted on a free site, where individuals who don't know me, Pomba Gira or American Indians might randomly read it. I thought it wouldn't hurt to try, because I really want the fundraising aspect of this to be a success and go down in history as the author who's face launched a thousand dartboards.
This emergence of mine into authorship has reminded me of those kits you get as a kid, usually around the holidays as a gift from someone who doesn't know what you might like. The adult version is typically the Chia Pet, although I prefer giving to my adult friends the ecologically sound gift of the Poo Pet, handmade by the Amish and a rare find indeed. No, the child version of the random "and what am I supposed to do with this?!" gift is usually the crystals that grow in water, or the ever fascinating Sea Monkey kit.
For those of you deprived of such a treat as a youth, the Sea Monkey kit allows a child to put eggs into a formula solution and hatch Sea Monkeys, which you can stare at all day and still not understand fully how they came to be named that. It's absolutely fantastic that something so bizarre could be sold, and make a profit, presumably. It gives me hope for the sale of The Summer of Pomba Gira, which in no way comes close to the intrigue of the Sea Monkeys, but still, raises money for two good causes.
Yes, I realized that this authorship thing has made me feel as if I'm a Sea Monkey myself. I've suddenly hatched out of some solution and am wriggling my way about the tank of the internet. Whereas only last year, Oleander Main did not exist in the ethernet existence, suddenly I've got a website, blog and now a press release floating my name out there. Me and Pomba Gira, motley crew that we are. It's a surreal virtual existence, to be sure.
My family isn't really known for doing things like self-publishing a book or staying up until 3AM to post anything, much less a press release, on the internet. When I got a tattoo, I was reminded by my brother that our father would have advised against it. It goes along the lines that tattoos aren't a good thing: It makes it easier for the police to identify you later. Better to stay incognito.
So when I tell my family what I've done, publishing this novel and posting like mad all over the internet, they look at me and become just a wee bit nervous. Undaunted, I persist until they agree to buy a copy, which they do. I suspect they fear that one of the characters in it might resemble them. A few brave souls actually ask what it's about and blink, the Sea Monkey attributes of my development becoming apparent before their very eyes. They are accustomed to the randomness of my existence, having transformed as a fashionista, noble scholar, mother. They are aware that what is most consistent about me is my randomness. But in light of this novel, they begin to wonder where we took an evolutionary wrong turn to becoming Sea Monkeys.
My friends, also familiar with my avant garde transformations, take it in stride and actually encourage it. This is where it occurs, when your friends encourage you. "Be a Sea Monkey! Go for it! I always knew you could!" I am sure I could make Poo Pets too, and while not being Amish, I think there are better than even odds that I could do so stylishly and with passion. So when in doubt, terrified families of authors, blame the friends.
My friends even now are cheering me on. "You go girl! I'm so proud! Congratulations, because even if nobody understands your Sea Monkeyness, it's what makes you UNIQUE! We've known it was in you all along, now THE WHOLE WORLD can see!" As I swim in the internet brine, I can only think, do not blame my bizarre humor on my friends, the blame should rest squarely on my family, the Main's. They would never admit it, but it is in our genetic makeup, our DNA.
However, humor has it's utility. Today as we were at the store, we encountered a vitrol example of humanity without a trace of any, who elected to confront each shopper and accuse them of blocking her car. Little did she know she'd accused a Sea Monkey who'd write about it later.
My son was perplexed and we got to talking about random negativity and it's meaning. I speculated that many post-holiday people have great expectations for a miracle to occur during the holiday seasons. Their families would be pleasant, they'd get the gifts they'd want, their problems would be solved. If you're one of those, read my book, it might help. I explained that post-holiday, they realized their expectations of a miracle had not been met and they're surly and mean due to it. My son thought of several examples of this he'd seen this holiday, other children whining "it's just not fair!" or adults being more onery than usual.
I explained that it's not our place to sit in judgment of that, but chart a course for ourselves through the brine. We could easily fall prey to this ourselves, waiting for some miracle to happen on a specified day, one that might never come through. In fact, it's one of the themes of the book. I shared with him that it's our obligation in life to make our own miracles happen, and that it's the passivity of sitting around waiting for someone to come with a magic wand and fix our lives that leads to such disappointments. So I was glad that the vitrol creature had danced her stuff out for all to see, if nothing else as a reminder of a course I don't want to take.
In thinking on it, that was the whole point of my 3AM press release posting. No one is going to wave a magic wand and sell my book for me, and raise this money for these organizations in this unique way. So it's got to fall to me to try, and that's pretty good for a Sea Monkey. Sleep is highly over-rated anyway.
There's a song, by the Beatle's I believe, that has a line in it "I am the Walrus" and it's so random and way out there, I have no idea of what it means. It is, however, catchy enough that people occassionally burst forth singing just that line of the song spontaneously. At least, in my world, they do.
I was up until 3AM typing up a press release to be posted on a free site, where individuals who don't know me, Pomba Gira or American Indians might randomly read it. I thought it wouldn't hurt to try, because I really want the fundraising aspect of this to be a success and go down in history as the author who's face launched a thousand dartboards.
This emergence of mine into authorship has reminded me of those kits you get as a kid, usually around the holidays as a gift from someone who doesn't know what you might like. The adult version is typically the Chia Pet, although I prefer giving to my adult friends the ecologically sound gift of the Poo Pet, handmade by the Amish and a rare find indeed. No, the child version of the random "and what am I supposed to do with this?!" gift is usually the crystals that grow in water, or the ever fascinating Sea Monkey kit.
For those of you deprived of such a treat as a youth, the Sea Monkey kit allows a child to put eggs into a formula solution and hatch Sea Monkeys, which you can stare at all day and still not understand fully how they came to be named that. It's absolutely fantastic that something so bizarre could be sold, and make a profit, presumably. It gives me hope for the sale of The Summer of Pomba Gira, which in no way comes close to the intrigue of the Sea Monkeys, but still, raises money for two good causes.
Yes, I realized that this authorship thing has made me feel as if I'm a Sea Monkey myself. I've suddenly hatched out of some solution and am wriggling my way about the tank of the internet. Whereas only last year, Oleander Main did not exist in the ethernet existence, suddenly I've got a website, blog and now a press release floating my name out there. Me and Pomba Gira, motley crew that we are. It's a surreal virtual existence, to be sure.
My family isn't really known for doing things like self-publishing a book or staying up until 3AM to post anything, much less a press release, on the internet. When I got a tattoo, I was reminded by my brother that our father would have advised against it. It goes along the lines that tattoos aren't a good thing: It makes it easier for the police to identify you later. Better to stay incognito.
So when I tell my family what I've done, publishing this novel and posting like mad all over the internet, they look at me and become just a wee bit nervous. Undaunted, I persist until they agree to buy a copy, which they do. I suspect they fear that one of the characters in it might resemble them. A few brave souls actually ask what it's about and blink, the Sea Monkey attributes of my development becoming apparent before their very eyes. They are accustomed to the randomness of my existence, having transformed as a fashionista, noble scholar, mother. They are aware that what is most consistent about me is my randomness. But in light of this novel, they begin to wonder where we took an evolutionary wrong turn to becoming Sea Monkeys.
My friends, also familiar with my avant garde transformations, take it in stride and actually encourage it. This is where it occurs, when your friends encourage you. "Be a Sea Monkey! Go for it! I always knew you could!" I am sure I could make Poo Pets too, and while not being Amish, I think there are better than even odds that I could do so stylishly and with passion. So when in doubt, terrified families of authors, blame the friends.
My friends even now are cheering me on. "You go girl! I'm so proud! Congratulations, because even if nobody understands your Sea Monkeyness, it's what makes you UNIQUE! We've known it was in you all along, now THE WHOLE WORLD can see!" As I swim in the internet brine, I can only think, do not blame my bizarre humor on my friends, the blame should rest squarely on my family, the Main's. They would never admit it, but it is in our genetic makeup, our DNA.
However, humor has it's utility. Today as we were at the store, we encountered a vitrol example of humanity without a trace of any, who elected to confront each shopper and accuse them of blocking her car. Little did she know she'd accused a Sea Monkey who'd write about it later.
My son was perplexed and we got to talking about random negativity and it's meaning. I speculated that many post-holiday people have great expectations for a miracle to occur during the holiday seasons. Their families would be pleasant, they'd get the gifts they'd want, their problems would be solved. If you're one of those, read my book, it might help. I explained that post-holiday, they realized their expectations of a miracle had not been met and they're surly and mean due to it. My son thought of several examples of this he'd seen this holiday, other children whining "it's just not fair!" or adults being more onery than usual.
I explained that it's not our place to sit in judgment of that, but chart a course for ourselves through the brine. We could easily fall prey to this ourselves, waiting for some miracle to happen on a specified day, one that might never come through. In fact, it's one of the themes of the book. I shared with him that it's our obligation in life to make our own miracles happen, and that it's the passivity of sitting around waiting for someone to come with a magic wand and fix our lives that leads to such disappointments. So I was glad that the vitrol creature had danced her stuff out for all to see, if nothing else as a reminder of a course I don't want to take.
In thinking on it, that was the whole point of my 3AM press release posting. No one is going to wave a magic wand and sell my book for me, and raise this money for these organizations in this unique way. So it's got to fall to me to try, and that's pretty good for a Sea Monkey. Sleep is highly over-rated anyway.
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