The Judges

My very talented book designer entered Schooled into a competition a while back, for the design and cover categories, and I decided to throw my hat in the ring for the writing and content categories as well. We didn't win anything, but I'm so glad we tried. It's always nice to have some "possibilities" out there, plus a lot of the feedback that came back from the judges was extremely positive. Here are a few excerpts:

"Cover got my attention. Loved the chapter pictures and the author's photo. Liked the chapter typeface. Well Done!"

"Very clean, in every way! Well written, great editing, interesting story-telling, easy to engage in, professional cover. I would buy this book and pass along to friends. Great job. A diamond in the rough."

"What a delightful book! You are able to tell school tales with a wonderful voice, which prompts the reader to want more! By the title and knowing this was non-fiction, I was expecting to read about assessment, policy , or other academic topics. Much to my surprise, you offered a pleasant and humorous distraction in the process. I look forward to reading your future projects. Best regards!"

"Very nicely done. The cover photo does an excellent job of portraying that the book is about a girl at school, and it gives us a clue about the time period, too. The typeface, which I generally dislike, is well-used here."
.

And it's in.

My second manuscript, that is. Handed it off to the editor tonight. It's funny how in these final days and read-throughs I was hit with all kinds of "this isn't good enough" thoughts, to the point of pure panic, but then again, that's exactly how I felt last time. And I think Schooled turned out pretty well. Even though there's a bit of angst this time around as well, mostly I feel incredibly relieved this evening. And proud. And also excited about seeing the book take shape over the coming months. I loved what Crystal said in this post about manuscripts being like childbirth...it may be ugly but the kid is still mine. And this manuscript in particular is definitely mine.
.

The Teens

Last weekend marked the 16th anniversary of the little driving mishap that's chronicled in Schooled. It's hard to believe that much time has gone by. It's hard to believe I was ever that young. When looking at teenagers today, in many ways they seem less mature and more lazy. Sometimes I'm sure I was in better shape (in terms of overall head-on-shoulders-ness), but when I really think back to those years, my attitude was far from where it should have been. Wish I would have been less selfish and more appreciative of my parents, for instance. That's teenagers for you, some might say, but I know a few who are making it through those years seemingly unscathed by selfishness and attitude, and I guess what I'm saying is I wish I could have been one of them.

It's also an interesting experience to reacquaint yourself with things you swore by in those days. Daiquiri Ice by Baskin Robbins, for example, which I used to think was heavenly. The. Best. Kind. Of ice cream. At BR just last night, I ordered Daiquiri Ice for old times' sake, and I didn't think it was all that great. It could have been the word 'daiquiri' that had me so enchanted as a youngster, or maybe the frosty green color that  made it stand out from the other flavors. Or maybe my tastes are simply different now. I remember my parents showing me and my sister a movie they had loved when they were teenagers. When it turned out to be much more crude than they remembered it being, they were embarrassed and apologized profusely.

So, see. We change. We improve. Yes, we also regress, but I bet improvement holds the lion's share as we grow older, gain perspective, and hone in on the kind of people we want to be. The kind of people we are. And, in my case, the kind of people we wish we would have been. Shoulda, coulda, woulda is not a productive train of thought, but sometimes I can't help it.

PS - Who knew daiquiri was spelled that way?
.

On Chronology

When I wrote Schooled, I originally had it organized into themed chapters. I thought this would be more readable (or at least less predictable) than chronological, so I lumped the vignettes together into themes. I had a troublemaking chapter, a theater/acting chapter, a teachers chapter, etc. And organizing a manuscript just the way you want it is no small task. So realizing after all that work that I actually did prefer the book in chronological order meant a whole lot of additional work. Not that it matters if it's the right decision, which I think it was, but my point is simply this: rearranging a manuscript is a big undertaking.

Since this second book will not be chronological (I think this is the right decision as well), there are a lot more ways I could potentially sequence it. A couple of weeks ago I had the manuscript spread out across the living room floor as I worked through the night to come up with an order that made sense to me, and I found one. Which I've felt good about. Until Monday night when I had a thought, a little epiphany, and once again spread the pages across the floor and reshuffled their order. I feel better about what I have now. I think I'm getting closer to the one that will stick. But who knows what another night, another spread of the pages will bring. This, if you ask me, is the fun stuff.
.

Anniversary

It's been a whole year since the book bash. And of course this weekend last year was bitterly cold and stormy out, while this year it was sunny and gorgeous. Oh well. You can't win them all. Plus it wasn't an outdoor party. It was just my bare party dress legs that suffered as the store door opened and shut all afternoon. Not to get ahead of myself, but I'm already excited for the next party. Even though it's still a long way away, the manuscript now being sorted into piles on my coffee table is evidence that I'm over the hump.

.

Thanks...now who are you?

I received this picture along with the following text message yesterday: "Just thought you would like to see the books I have on display in my office..."

Messages such as this warm my heart, and I do love seeing my book on a shelf. Anyone's shelf. Which brings me to the following despicable confession: This could very well be anyone's shelf, because I have no idea who sent me this text. And isn't that the worst? Someone whose number you should probably know is not even in your phone.

Something similar happened recently while at a production of War Horse (great show, by the way). As the show ended and the packed theater was filing out, I saw a woman who looked familiar. I didn't think much of it, because I couldn't place her, but when she caught sight of me a minute later, she greeted me as if we had once been besties. All I could offer back was a cheery "Hi!! How are you?" and after establishing we were both fine, we were separated again in the large crowd. Who this woman is, I have no idea. I don't have so much as an inkling of her name or the circumstances under which I knew her. How does one handle those situations, and why are we so embarrassed to admit that something has slipped through our mental cracks? I had an answer to that, but it's escaped me.

.

Honesty: Still the Best Policy.

I got together recently with some friends, and the husband, who had just finished reading Schooled, asked me how I handled being so honest in the book. Particularly about my own thoughts and feelings. I guess some things I mention are pretty personal, but throughout the whole process of writing and prepping the book (and even in the time since it's been out), it's never really bothered me. I wanted an honest book, even if it revealed the oftentimes ridiculous, selfish, and self-pitying thoughts I had as an adolescent. This man said he wasn't sure he could do that, and several others have made similar comments to me, usually sounding something like, "Wow, it's sure gutsy to basically make your diary public."

The bigger concern to me when it comes to writing about real life is that you have to talk about other people. I mean, it's one thing to embarrass yourself, but quite another to potentially embarrass others. In writing Schooled, I wrestled with how honest to be at other peoples' expense. Not that anything about the book is vindictive, but I'm a nice person, and my desire to be honest has probably harmed a few relationships. It's something I've been reminded of as I'm re-reading manuscript #2. Because it means another list (although this one much shorter) of people in my life who are mentioned and may not appreciate everything I say. My defense (and this is my overall case for honesty in writing period) is that it's simply not realistic to have only ever had positive thoughts about and experiences with someone. In an effort to show a balanced and realistic depiction of life as I've experienced it, I'm not sure you can omit all of the less flattering details. Most of them, sure, but not all.

Yes, I will probably always worry about hurting people's feelings, and I will always feel gutted upon hearing that I actually have. But I will continue being as honest as I'm comfortable being, as I believe it is key when writing. I still think Betsy Lerner said it best...I quoted this passage a year ago in this post and I think it's worth repeating here:

"Let’s face it, if in your writing you lift the veil on your family, your community, or even just yourself, someone will take offense. . . . If you write what is most pressing, you are revealing thoughts, secrets, wishes, and fantasies that you (and we as readers) would never otherwise confess to. Most writers, like most children, need to tell. The problem is that much of what they need to tell will provoke the ire of parent-critics, who are determined to tell writer-children what they can and cannot say. Unless you have sufficient ego and feel entitled to tell your story, you will be stymied in your effort to create. You think you can’t write, but the truth is you can’t tell. Writing is nothing if not breaking the silence. The problem is, no one likes a snitch."

.

Did I write THAT?

It's an interesting process, editing. And one I enjoy immensely. When first out of college I had it in my head that I might want to actually be an editor. And not just because Betsy Lerner's book had changed my life. But then business happened. And now the only editing I do, prior to handing them over to a real editor of course, is that of my own manuscripts. I'm in the middle of my first post-writing read through, and can I just tell you what a strange thing it is, especially since much of the book was written quite a while ago. Some of the pages I can't even remember writing. Some of them are much more delightful than I originally thought, some are much less so. Lots of work to do, and while I am loving this first full read-through, I know from Schooled that by the time a manuscript is ready, you have read it so many times that you become a bit sick of it. But one step at a time. For now it's back to my red pen.

One Year Later

A friend sent me this link, and it got me thinking about what my advice would be. Of course, I'm a baby writer, but this weekend will mark 1 year since my book came out, and in that time I've learned quite a bit. In many ways I've been disenchanted by how hard it is to get people to buy books, how hard it is to market yourself and your book when you already have a full-time job, how hard it is to maintain a blog that almost no one reads (and how sheepish you sometimes feel for doing it).

But I don't regret any of it, and despite this past year turning out very differently than I ever would have guessed, it's also been surprisingly rewarding. The fans I do have are more doting and loyal than I deserve. They warm my heart and make everything worth it. The events and signings I've participated in have helped sink in the fact that I wrote a book. That people can buy. No matter how much of a nobody I am, I've accomplished something significant, and one year later, I'm still reveling in satisfaction and gratitude. And I still love writing. All set to finish up the writing of my next book on this anniversary weekend, I can't wait to do it all over again.

.

To Sell is Human

I'm long since past the days of reading textbooks, so I confess that the thought of reading for anything other than pleasure causes panic and painful flashbacks. I kid, I kid. Anyone who's read Schooled knows I loved being a student and dreaded the beginning of real life, but now that I'm in it, I do groan when I see informative books on the shelves. Who reads these? I once saw a stat of how many books you could read in your life if you were an average reader (and most of us read far less frequently than the average reader), and the number was disturbingly low. And if I can only read a very select number of books in my life, I certainly don't want to read any that are not for fun, don't make me laugh, and do nothing to help me escape.

So whenever I find myself reading a business-themed book, it surprises me. Even more so when I really enjoy it. Which is exactly what I can say about this book. True that I work in sales already, so it's not like I really needed a lot of convincing about selling in today's world being very different than in eras past. Or the presence of sales-related activities even in non-sales jobs. Or the amount of time we spend trying to move others; to convince people to part with something they have in exchange for something we can give. I already see this and fully believe it. I am the proverbial choir.

Nothing earth-shattering then, but what I loved about this book were the practical examples shared to illustrate each principle, the clear explanation of the ways we can become better and more effective movers in this information age, and the recommended exercises (sometimes very simple) to help us become better attuned, buoyant, and clear. Very readable and incredibly relatable (much like Quiet), it's always satisfying to read a book that gets it right. If you work in sales, manage a team of salespeople, or just want to read a fascinating account of the shift away from the Fuller Brush Man style of selling that was once so prevalent, you should read this book.
.

Headshots

Do people out there really have headshots? That's a silly question, I know they do. I see them on websites and blogs and twitter. It seems most people in the book world have---whether professionally done or not---some sort of picture that's pretty much just their head. I haven't had a lot of times yet where I've needed one, but the times I've been asked for one (book signings, guest posts, etc), I have nothing to give.

So I had some done this weekend. I won't say that I at times during the shoot didn't feel silly for doing it. I won't say that I know I'll even use these much. I won't say I'm convinced I really needed them, but I figure they'll come in handy at some point. And if nothing else, they will give me something to put in the About the Author section of my next book. The picture I used in Schooled was not exactly current....although, to be fair, I was trying to be clever.

If they turn out halfway decent, maybe I'll share some here when I get them back. Or maybe you'll just have to buy my next book. Once it's done. Or check out my website. Once I actually have one. Or read future guest posts. Once I find time to write any. I'm sensing a pattern here.
.

The Upside of Sick

I've never been a very athletic person (my only attempt to be a member of an official team is chronicled in Schooled), but I'm a big proponent of exercise. On my own. Stuff that doesn't require skills of any kind. Being as sick as I've been lately, I took a bit of a hiatus from working out most of last month and have only this week begun to reincorporate it into my life, but not without a sigh of annoyance and a sense of dread. Working out is such a time sucker. Which you really don't think about (or maybe you do) until you stop doing it long enough to have filled that time with something else.

In my case, I've been filling my workout time with writing, and it's been so nice to be able to write on a daily basis. I'm down to my last 10K words for the manuscript I've been working on, but now that I'm healthy enough to exercise, who knows when those 10K words will actually get written. I could always join the throngs of people who simply don't exercise period, and I always seem to get confused comments from people when I work out anyway...comments like, "Why do YOU need to work out?," as if skinny people have nothing to gain from a gym. Not sure why it doesn't occur to these people that working out might by why I'm skinny in the first place, or that there are other motives for staying healthy besides weight (in my case, a family history of heart disease), but the point here is that getting back in the workout saddle is perhaps harder this time than it's ever been before. Because I got awfully attached to my writing time. I'm determined to bring it back. There's got to be something else I can cut out of my life. Cleaning, maybe. Or doing chores. I think I'm onto something.
.

Disasters at the Pump

I was twenty the first time I pumped a tank of gas. This is not unusual for a kid who grew up in Oregon, because in that blessed state you don't pump your own gas. Pretty sure you aren't allowed to. You simply stay in your car and say "Fill it with regular" out the window to the attendant and that's all there is to it. I've met a lot of haters in my life that go on and on about how horrible and lame it would be to stay in your car on a cold day and let someone else deal with the pumping, and I never understand what's not to love about the Oregon way.

The only disadvantage, I suppose, was the day my 20-year-old self ended up alone and on the other side of the Oregon/Idaho border. Not that it's hard to pump gas. But just because you know what to do or even how to do it, that doesn't mean you'll do it well. Or even correctly. (I related this to my first kiss in Schooled.) That day at the pump I managed to do everything correctly, or so I thought, but still no gas came out. Surely after watching me try over and over for quite some time, a voice came over the intercom for all to hear. "YOU HAVE TO PUSH THE START BUTTON!" Which they could have, I don't know, mentioned somewhere.

Last night I had to fill up my tank after leaving the office, and I know I shouldn't sit in the car while I'm waiting for the tank to fill, but it's winter. And I live in Cleveland. About the time I realized it was taking longer than normal to fill was the time I made the connection that the gushing sound I heard was my tank overflowing. How does this even happen? The clicky thing is supposed to click off when the tank is full. I jumped out of the car, rushed over, and figured removing the nozzle would force it to unclick. Au contraire. It was like a fire hose, gas shooting everywhere (over my car, over me), and the only thing I could think to do was scream. Surely something somewhere in the vicinity would spark and my car and person would blow up immediately. "SOMEONE, HELP!!" I shouted, and even though the man who rushed over to help thought I didn't know that the clicky thing stays clicked until released (and consequently thought it was my own cluelessness that had caused the problem), at least he rushed over to help. The clicky thing did eventually unclick, but not before I'd paid a small fortune for the gas now flowing toward the gutter.

And this, ladies and gentleman, is why I write books. Because these things happen to me. It's also why I miss Oregon. One of the many, many reasons. Stay tuned next time for rants on sales tax and snow.
.

This is just to say...

I talk to my parents regularly, but rarely do I get a call and see that it's coming from my Dad's cell phone. There's usually a slight sense of panic, like something might be wrong, especially because he's not the most chatty guy. So when I saw "Dad" as the incoming call the other day, I confess I was a bit alarmed. "Do you have a minute?" he asked when I answered. This sounded serious. But it turns out he had only wanted to let me know that a couple of my biggest fans had just been at his clinic. I don't know these people, but they went on and on telling him how much they love my book, how many copies they've bought, how many people in the community are reading the book and loving it. And my dad just thought I might want to know that I have quite the growing fan base back home. And even though home is small and said fan base is even smaller, it warmed my heart. So thanks, Dad. For making my day.
.

Busted

Yesterday I received an anonymous note in my mailbox at work. The intrigue! It came in an interoffice envelope and was simply a print-out of this blog post from late December. If you go back and read it, it's true that I may or may not have slightly bashed corporate America and expressed frustration over the worship of all things extrovertish, but I never guessed that anyone from my office was actually paying attention. On the printed-out blog post in my mailbox was the following handwritten note: "Poor Tali. And we thought you actually liked working with us." And to the sender of this note, whoever you are, you must know that this struck me as so funny and clever that I had to chuckle to myself in sheer delight. So, thank you. Unless you are from HR and are trying to get me canned. In which case, is it too late to apologize for sounding like I hate working here? And while I'm at it, don't take it personally that I vehemently shamed our decision to send e-cards to customers last month in this post or read too much into my admission in this gem of a post that I wrote it while sitting at my desk. None of that is important. What's important is this: We are now pen pals.

On Thank-you Notes

I suppose this is in some way related to my Christmas card post from last month, but once Christmas is over, you're usually left with a decent amount of people who need thanking. In our house growing up, my mom catalogued everyone's gifts as they opened them, such that by the end of the morning, she had constructed a matrix-style chart we could reference that showed a summary of everything we received along with who gave it to us. She'd then task us with writing thank you notes, and I'd be lying if I said my teenage self actually enjoyed doing this. To be fair, I sort of hated it. But it was what we did, and I have to say all these years later that I'm very grateful to have had a mother who raised us on thank you notes. I remember sitting through a business school lecture on this very topic (the professor and her remarkable class about the little things that can set you apart in the professional world are mentioned in Schooled) and thinking fondly of my mother. So ahead of her time.

So as I'm preparing to mail out a bunch of thank you notes this week, I guess it's reminding me just how strongly I now feel about them, and how surprised I often am that more people don't send them. It's not that a giver regrets giving if he is not thanked, but it's a gesture that shows not only that the receiver cared enough about the gift to send a note, but also that she's the sort of person who takes the time to do such things; the sort of person who makes that effort. It's a gesture of caring and gratitude, and I see the value both personally and professionally. Or maybe I'm just old school. It's entirely possible. Regardless, if you haven't yet (or haven't ever) mailed thank you notes, I'd encourage you to add it to your repertoire. It will make someone's day. Probably yours.
.

This Is Not My Book

I knew before I went into this whole thing that my choice of title was not exactly original. Ooodles of Schooled books exist, but it never really deterred me, as I knew from the get go that as a title, it perfectly encapsulated what I wanted to say. So honestly, title duplicity has never given me the slightest amount of heartburn. Until a Cleveland-area teacher decided to publish a scandalously raunchy book by the same title, that is. It's been the talk of Cleveland for the past couple of days, and I can't count the number of people who have come up to me (partly horrified, partly sympathetic, and always in soft, whispered, what-if-she-doesn't-know-yet tones) to ask whether I've heard, how I'm doing, and if I wouldn't rather "not be associated with that title anymore." As if I should what? Re-publish under a new title?

In truth, I suppose I'm sort of annoyed. What business does anyone have writing this crap, especially a teacher? (The book is supposedly about a teacher having sex with her students. It is also supposedly fiction.) I could further ask what business does anyone have reading this crap, but that's another story, and besides, I've already made the decision that while sex-filled books sell like hotcakes, I'd like to think I have more integrity than that. Both as a writer and as a reader. So back to me being annoyed, because now there's scandal associated with a Cleveland-area writer whose book is called Schooled. Oh well. Look on the bright side, Tali. Maybe I'll see a spike in sales from people thinking mine is the trashy one.
.

Forgetting Katniss

I'm in the process of studying for a final. (No, there isn't an education-related addendum being written to Schooled. Although I can confirm that these hobby-esque classes will be tied into the subject of currently half-done book two.) And particularly when studying for a class that requires the memorization of a gazillion facts and figures, I am reminded often of both how much the human brain can retain, as well as how much it does not. As I've gone back over all the quizzes I've taken for this course over the past six months, it's embarrassing how much I've managed to forget. But as I dedicated myself to preparing for this final, it's amazing how much I've been able to re-learn, and in not very much time. The brain is just so...spongey.

I suppose it's one thing to forget facts and figures, but what about other things? What about things we learn for fun? What about reading books? Having studied English in college, sometimes I feel like all I can remember is a single story that manages to blend together everything I've ever read; that every literary character becomes a composite of every other character. For example, Silas Marner came up in conversation recently. While some strands of familiarity surfaced, I was stumped. My mind took inventory of male literary characters and produced some combination of Bartleby the Scrivener and J. Alfred Prufrock, and I realized I had no idea if I'd ever read Silas Marner. If so, I could not in that instant pluck out a plot line. Still can't. Or for a more contemporary example, I was discussing The Hunger Games trilogy with family members over Thanksgiving, and my sister-in-law brought up the "vote" at the end of book three. Um, vote? What on earth? How is this possible? I mean, I positively inhaled those books, yet here's how the Thanksgiving discussion went down:

Me: "Uh, vote?"
SIL: "Yeah, when they're all sitting around the table. And she's the deciding vote."

I do not remember this.

Me: "Who is?"
SIL: "Katniss."

I do not remember this at all.

Me: "What are they voting on?"
SIL: "On whether or not to make The Capitol's children do a hunger games."

Oh. My. Gosh. How intense! Go for it Katniss! Make them pay! But wait, shouldn't you of all people want to end the games once and for all?

Me: "Does she vote for it?"
SIL: "Yeah."

Who knew? Except me. Two years ago.

Of course, it's impossible to retain everything we put into our brains, and that's OK. I'm not beating myself up over my lack of ability to recall every detail about the world of Panem. Or scrivenry. The good news is we have the ability to learn period. And the ability to re-learn even when we forget. So if Silas Marner is worth re-reading, someone please tell me.
.

Download 'Schooled' for free!

Well, it's that time of year again: The time of year when Starbucks brings out their festive red cups. I'm not a coffee drinker myself, but I love those red cups (I suggest a Hazelnut Steamer if you don't care for coffee). I love everything about Starbucks, from its Pacific Northwest origins to the way they have the whole world happily overpaying for warm bevs. I mentioned this to someone recently, my respect for the stronghold that Starbucks' marketing has on our wallets, and they had a hard time understanding where I was coming from. "Wait, you LIKE the fact that they make us all overpay for coffee?" The answer is yes. Yes I do.

It's not that I like overpaying, but the genius of Starbucks is they have created an experience that we all want. That we all need. Because of this, it's not like we stand there in line stewing over how much we hate being ripped off. We WANT to pay it. We CAN'T WAIT to pay it. We consider our lives better and ourselves more trendy for overpaying being Starbucks customers. That's why we keep coming back. And the ability to create that kind of devotion (at a premium, no less) is impressive. More than that, it's the ultimate success when you've got something to sell.

Marketing and selling books is a completely different matter. (Hello, Captain Obvious. Welcome.) There's nothing luxurious per se about a book, and unlike a drink you can sip and instantly confirm that you like (or a piece of art or jewelry that you can form an opinion on immediately), books require reading before the buyer really knows whether they are worth his investment. So more often than not, he doesn't invest. It's even more difficult when the author is a nobody. Like me. All you can hope for is word of mouth. Which is a problem when no one knows about you. So on Wednesday and Thursday of this week (Nov. 28 and 29), Schooled will be available as a free Kindle download. Download it, tell your friends, tell them to tell their friends, and remember that my holiday promotion still applies for those who like it enough to post a review. It's the perfect thing to read while sipping something hot from a festive red cup.

.

Cedar Fairmount Festival

Wanted to say a few words about the Cedar Fairmount Festival, which I was fortunate enough to be able to participate in thanks to Appletree Books. Jane (owner) invited a few authors to be in the store during the festival selling and signing their books, and the timing worked out for me to be one of them. A much more pleasant experience than the Author Alley at Loganberry Books last month, and not just because the weather was so much better. It was also nice to have the number of authors be so much smaller. We really got a chance to talk to each other and get to know each other, and being inside the store was probably a big part of this. Not to mention it made it much more difficult for people to walk off with our books. **Loganberry says only one person actually came into the store to pay for my book at Author Alley, and while I still think they owe me for the books people walked away with, they haven't paid me a dime and have been quite rude when I've called to follow-up with them.

Being so frustrated with how Loganberry is handling things, it was refreshing to work with Jane and have such a pleasant experience yesterday at Appletree. And it made me more excited for the other events I have in the works. It really is so fun to be in that environment; to be talking with customers about my book and seeing their smiles and laughs when they hear what it's about. I like that my book is so relatable, and I love that it has such a stellar cover; that people want to pick it up and ask about it. All in all, it was a wonderful afternoon, and I'd encourage anyone with access to the Cedar Fairmount area to go see Jane at Appletree Books. Thanks to everyone who came out to see me!

.