7 Random Thoughts on a Thursday

Apr. 26th 2012

1. I own a pair of Pajama Jeans. I live in them. But, interestingly enough, I’ve never slept in them.

2. Scatology is the scientific study of excrement. Who knew? And you’re welcome.

3. In his book Linchpin: Are You Indispensable, Seth Godin says, “It’s not an effort contest. It’s an art contest.” I agree with that.

4. Maybe someday when I get an email with the word “Beloved” in the subject line it will be from someone like George Clooney, and not some spammer promising me a million-dollar inheritance if I just provide certain info, like my birthday, social security number, and bra size.

5. I’m recording a podcast today with children’s author Katie Davis who wants to talk to me about all things Facebook. She’s taken my FB obsession for expertise. Hope I don’t disappoint. I’ll announce when the podcast is live. She also talks about me in her latest podcast, which you can listen to here.

6. Bored? Try coffin racing.

7. Just finished reading one of my favorite author’s latest books: Some Assembly Required: A Journal of My Son’s First Son by Anne Lamott and Sam Lamott. I swear, the woman gets in my head and can read my thoughts and fears and dreams and everything.

What random thoughts have you had this week? Share some in the comments.

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Posted by Robyn | in Random Thoughts | 2 Comments »

Letting Go

Mar. 8th 2011

I’m getting ready to email my novel to the folks at eBook Architects. They’re the ones who convert my Word doc file into Mobi (Kindle) and ePub (everything else). Then it will be timeĀ  for me to sell the thing.

We’ve had a long journey, this novel and me, and I’m having a hard time letting it go. I think I may have driven my wonderful and patient copy editor, Laura Matthews, a little crazy this past weekend as I revised the opening page about five times, and each one I sent to her for feedback.

There’s always more you can do, always a phrase you can improve, a thought you can sharpen, a character you can deepen. At some point, you need to let it go. Or so I’ve been told.

The good news? In this digital world in which I choose to work, at least for now, I can easily make changes should a typo be spotted or a modifier dangle. In the print world, those mistakes live on in paper until another print run (provided there is one) or a conversion to paperback.

I’ve published five short stories to Kindle, Nook, etc. since I started this venture last fall. I got my first royalty payments from Amazon and Barnes & Noble this week. You’d think sending this file off wouldn’t be a big deal since I’ve done it five times already. But for some reason, it is. Maybe because it’s my debut novel. Maybe because I’ve worked on this piece since 2001. Then again, maybe it’s normal to feel this way every time you send out such a big part of yourself to the world.

I keep doing searches on words like “really” andĀ  “studies” (which became my new way of saying “look”) and double checking hair and eye color and fact checking some of the history and wavering on whether I should take the risk of including two lines from an Adrienne Rich poem and hoping it qualifies as fair use or plucking them out. I worry that some of my corrections have resulted in typos, so I read and reread until the words swim, as do my eyeballs, and I have to adjust the zoom every page or two so I can trick my brain into spotting any lingering or last-minute mistakes.

I’ve come to this point in a really (sorry, Laura) circuitous way: Mrs. Shea’s fourth grade class, radio, copywriting, creative writing, querying, snobbing on self-publishing, epiphany, self-publishing.

Am I good enough? Who’s to say? What defines “good enough” anyway?

I know I’m not alone in this moment of self-doubt, a moment that I imagine most writers go through right before a work comes out. Anne Lamott writes about it in Bird by Bird on the chapter called “Publication”:

“The first time you read through your galleys is heaven. The second time through, all you see are the typos no one caught. It looks like the typesetter typed it with frostbitten feet, drunk….By the fifth reading, you are no longer sure that publishing this would be in your best interest.”

I’m going to hit “send” now, take a deep breath, have a nervous breakdown, and then get over it and myself.

Until the next time.

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