Math Pain

My old nemesis, Math, has sent me into a spiral of frustration and self-doubt. I couldn't remember how to figure a percentage. The formula had fallen out of my head.

"You have to help me with this!" I yelled to my Muse who was in the other room. She came rushing to me with a wet tea bag in her hand.

"What is it?"

"I can't remember how to figure out percentages."

She cocked her head and blinked at me a few times. "A what?"

"A percentage. What is 40% of 16?"

"How the hell should I know?"

"You have to know. You know everything."

"I only know important things."

I leaped up from my chair and recklessly grabbed my Muse by her bony shoulders. "This is important! Do you hear me? I have to know what 40% of 16.00 is or we're doomed."

"Calm down," she said, pulling herself from my grasp. "This isn't the end of the world."

"It isn't? Are you sure? I mean, if I can't figure out what 40% of 16 is I can't do the billing, and if I can't do the billing then we don't get paid, and if we don't get paid I can't pay the printing bill, and if that happens I lose my credit and Medusa's Muse will die! And that, my dear Muse, is the end of the world!" I stepped closer to her and she pressed herself against the wall. "So you'd better help me figure this out or it's over!"

Every snake on her head stared at me as we glared at each other, too startled to strike. My Muse looked confused, an expression I'd never seen on her before. Then she took a deep breath and said, "Having a panic attack won't solve anything. You need to calm down and let me think."

I stepped away and sat down in the chair, resting my head in my hands. "This is hopeless."

"Don't say that. You're just frustrated, that's all."

"How did I think I could do this when I can't remember how to do simple math? I must be crazy." I looked up at her and shook my head. "This is hopeless. I'm an idiot."

"Have you always had this much trouble with math?"

"Yes."

"Then that's the problem. I'll bet you froze every time you had to do a math problem, am I right?"

I nodded. "Tests were the worst. I'd flunk them every time. It took me three tries to get through Algebra, and then I think I only did because the teacher took pity on me."

"You're just suffering from Math anxiety. It happens to lots of people. You can't think because you're too nervous. So take a break, calm down, and in time it will come back to you."

"I don't have time."

"Then call Jane."

"Jane. Jane will know what to do. She knows how to do math. She was a book-keeper."

"Exactly. I'm sure it's a simple formula. You just need a reminder. It's been a long time since you were in school. A long, long, long time."

"That's enough. I get the point."

"Why at your age, it's a wonder you haven't forgotten fractions. Or multiplication, let alone percentages."

"Thank you. I get it."

"Jane is younger. She'll remember."

"You can go now! Thank you."

She smiled sweetly. "Have I helped?"

"Immensely. What would I do without you?"

"Glad I was here." She returned to the kitchen, swinging her tea bag, humming.

Jane reminded me how to do the formula and once I knew it I could figure out the rest. Even so, I had to redo the figures four times, never feeling confident I had the right answer. Math, my old enemy, had stripped me of my publisher self-assurance.

Strategy

Right now we have two projects in development at Medusa's Muse Press; an anthology of transformative Punk Rock tales, and a novel about the power of friendship over death. Both compelling and exciting to work on. But which one should launch first? I guess the real question is, can I devote energy to both, AND keep the momentum of Laura's book going? Or should I focus more on one project at a time? Since I'm still learning how to run the press as a small business, there are a lot of reasons to keep the pace slow and manageable. I'm only now getting the hang of inventory control with just one book! Can I keep track of two, or even three different books in different stages of development?

My Muse says, "Go for it!" She believes in my ability to juggle multiple tasks while still being Mommy and working another job. And I'm sure she's right... but... I'm not so sure I want the aggravation. I'd like less stress in my life, not more.

Now is the time to create a Strategy which maps out what my plan is for Medusa's Muse over the next 2-5 years. Taking into account budget, credit, possible profits and known expenditures, projects, marketing, and the time I and the designer and editor can actually put into a manuscript. There are only so many hours in a day and if we all burn out early in this game Medusa's Muse will drop dead in three years. I want this press to last for thirty years!

I'll sit down and look at numbers and possibilities, but I admit I'm leaning toward focusing on the punk rock book and putting off the novel till winter, 2008, if not longer. I don't want to do so much that the books suffer. Each book is a treasure that requires devotion and energy to help it bloom. Putting out books simply to fill up the Medusa catalogue isn't a good way to run a press.

My Muse calls me a coward. Maybe I am. But I think my Muse is too eager for the contact high of another book launch.

Rocket Girls

My Muse went to dinner two months ago with three other Muses and when she came back she told me all about the idea they came up with. After many weeks of collaboration and the dedication of Jody Gehrman, the Rocket Girls web site is born!


The Rocket Girls are Kim Green, Jordan Rosenfeld, the aforementioned Jody Gehrman, and me. Three lovely writers and one cool publisher. The purpose of the site is to help other writers by offering articles, how-to's, question and answers, a blog, and advice on writing, publishing and being creative. Plus, it's a great way to network with other writers and support each other's work. Right now, there are two questions about publishing posted by a writer, which I've answered. Go to the site to read what I said and post your own questions,too.

I teased my Muse about being pathologically afraid of boredom. "How many more projects are you planning?" She grinned and replied, "As many as I can think of."

World AIDS day is one week away

This is from The World AIDS Day Organization in the UK. Even though the info is UK oriented, it's a good reminder to us all that AIDS is still prevalent, and that includes the US. So speak out, remember, and keep fighting. AIDS can disappear if we all work together.

World AIDS Day is ONE week away!! Take Action!

WORLD AIDS DAY – Saturday 1 December

'ONE WEEK TO GET INVOLVED AND GET TALKING!'

World AIDS Day is less than one week away. There are over 33 million people living with HIV around the world and more than 70,000 people are living with HIV in the UK.

World AIDS Day 2007 is a great time to get talking about HIV, listen to people's experiences of HIV, and learn the facts about the virus to help spread the word to friends and family.


Five facts you may not know about HIV and World AIDS Day:

1- In 2006 there were an estimated 73,000 people of all ages living with HIV in the UK and about 21,600 were unaware of their infection.


2- Internationally, there have been 2.5 million total new cases of HIV in 2007, with 2.1 cases in adults and 420,000 cases in children under the age of 15.


3- The red ribbon worn for World AIDS Day has been a symbol of HIV awareness since 1991 and is a powerful way to challenge the stigma and discrimination surrounding HIV and AIDS in the world today.

4- Young people (aged 16 – 24) accounted for over 1 in 10 new HIV diagnoses in the UK by the end of 2006.

5- The UK theme for World AIDS Day 2007 is 'Understanding Through Communication', which highlights the importance of using open communication to break down the silence and stigma around HIV and to get people talking to increase their knowledge about the virus.

Top 10 Lessons I've Learned About Publishing

My Muse lounges on the couch with her feet up and announces, "I feel fecund."

"That's an interesting word," I reply, sitting in my favorite chair across from her.

"It covers it all. Fecund. Creatively fertile and satisfied."

"Me too." We smile at each other, and then she asks, "What have you learned from all this?"

"Learned?"

"Yes, silly. Learned about publishing. You've been studying books for a year and finally put it all into action on a real book. Did any of it make sense? Do you think you know what you're doing? Could you do it again?"

I think for a moment and nod slowly. "Yes. I have."

She hands me a note-pad. "Write it down."

Top Ten Lessons I've Learned About Publishing

1) Marketing is not a dirty word. Creating a Marketing plan is not an act of evil. If a publishing company wants to survive it must know and understand the potential market for a manuscript. Target markets are good.

2) A Publishing Company is a small business. Learn what you have to do to run a business as well as a publishing company. If you skip learning how to manage your inventory or forget to get a resale license, you're screwed.

3) There are creative, talented, eager people all around you. Don't be afraid to ask for their help. If you don't know or understand something, ASK. Ignorance will cause you extrutiating headaches as you try to undo the mistakes you've made.

4) Never underestimate the value of a good book designer. If you are lucky enough to have a person in your life who wants to be a part of the press and will work for free, AND is good at designing covers, you are extremely lucky. If you don't have that person, then save up the money to pay someone. Really. It is worth every dime.

5) A good copy editor is just as important as the above mentioned book designer. Pay them, bribe them, lure them with promises of riches or sexual favors, but get someone who can spell to edit the manuscript.

6) The Internet is the greatest tool a small publisher can have. Learn how to use it. Don't be afraid of My Space. Get a blog. Create a good website. Keep it updated. The time you spend surfing is not a waste of time. You can learn a lot from reading other blogs and joining list-serves. Get over the fear of "Big Brother" and embrace the digital age.

7) Join organizations like Publisher's Market Place and take advantage of the information and on-line trainings they provide. There is so much help and advice out there. Talk to other publishers and independent presses. They can guide you in the right direction and save you hours of fruitless effort.

8) Dan Poynter really is the God-father of Independent Publishing. Buy his book first.

9) Buy extra chocolate. You will put in many unpaid hours working on the mansucript through editing, revision, editing again, designing, planning the marketing campaign, making cold calls to get book readings for your author, filling orders, and sometimes staring at the pile of books in your living room wondering what on earth you should do next. Chocolate will get you through.

10) Listen to your Muse. She's smart.

Jordan's Blog Interview

Hey look! I'm famous! Well, at least on Jordan's blog.

http://jordansmuse.blogspot.com/2007/11/were-still-in-rocketgirl-month-here-at.html

Jordan Rosenfeld is an excellent writer whose newest book, Make a Scene, helps the writer create riveting, page turning, powerful scenes in their novel. A definite must-have for every writer, especially any who are having trouble with dialogue or setting a scene.

Ukiah Book Reading

 

 

Last night was Laura's reading at the Mendocino Book Company, and it was a huge success. We packed the house and sold quite a few books. Laura's good friends from her quilting club brought munchies and the bookstore provided wine and lemon aid. The staff was incredible. I arrived early at 5:30 and chairs were already set out for the audience and a table was set up for Laura to sign books. By 6:00, it was hard to navigate the room with all the people packed around the reading area, filling the chairs and blocking the aisles. At 6:20 the bookstore owner, Ann, introduced me. I told everyone how Laura's book began; one lovely day in February after I read her manuscript, I asked if I could publish it. She said yes, and here we are. People cheered and Laura began to read, at first sitting nervously in her chair, face practically buried in the book. But when someone asked her to speak up, Laura stood, found her confidence, and finished reading in a loud, clear voice. I was very proud of her.

My muse circled the room, her skin radiant with the warmth and good feelings from the people there. I think she's feeling better about being "forgotten." Rick was there as well and people praised him for his design, especially the image of the road extending completely from back to front on the cover.

Ann, the bookstore owner, is a wonderful woman and really helped me with pricing and working with bookstores. This was my first event at a store, so I wasn't sure how the percentages should be. But Ann answered my questions and explained it all, even giving Medusa a larger percentage of the sales than I had offered, saying, "How can you stay in business at that price?" Thank you Ann!

A beautiful night. Hopefully soon we'll have more readings on the coast (Mendocino?), in Willits, and south in Santa Rosa. It takes time to get them set up, and a great deal of coordination between the store's and Laura's schedule. But I think she and I are both feeling more confident about this.

I know my Muse is happier.

In the Background

My Muse has been trying on different outfits for a week; a black, slinky gown, a man's suite with a red, skinny tie, an electric blue turtle-neck with gaucho pants,a cowboy shirt and jeans, a leather mini-skirt and stripper boots. There's a large pile of discarded clothing on my bed and my Muse is looking worried.

"I have nothing to wear to the book reading on Friday!" she wails, tearing off a red sweater.

"What are you worried about? No one' s coming to see you."

She freezes, her eyebrows rising sharply. "What do you mean?"

"I mean people are coming to hear Laura read. No one cares about the publisher, let alone her muse."

"That's not true."

"Afraid so. Wear what you want. We're support staff now."

"That's a terrible thing to say!" She throws an alligator boot at me.

I laugh. "Okay...name one publisher."

She crosses her arms."Random House."

"That's a publishing company. Who's the publisher, the person who did the work?"

My Muse blinks her heavy, sea-green eyes several times, then shrugs. "I don't know and that's not the point. Those are huge corporations with hundreds of staff. You ARE Medusa's Muse. Well, you and Jane and Rick. So people should know you and be proud of you."

"A few people do, and the people who know me are proud of me." I reach out and tuck a nervous snake behind her ear. "There's nothing wrong with being support staff. We're there to help Laura read from her book and have a wonderful time. It's like being the director of a play, you know. We don't go on stage. We help the actors look good."

She shoves over a pile of skirts and sits on my bed, crossing her legs. "Do you mean to tell me we did all this work..."

"We?"

"Fine, you did all this work, and no one knows or cares?"

"Welcome to the world of publishing, my dear. And remember, this was all your idea."

I sit beside her and the two of us stare at my desk covered with overflowing stacks of papers, lists, post-it notes and half a chocolate bar.

My Muse murmers, "I thought this would be more fun."

'Me too,' I think. 'I'm getting a little tired of the non-stop marketing and paperwork, inventory lists and business management tasks. I miss writing, being creative, thinking about cover design and editing. I miss creating books, even the revision process. Instead, I spend my time keeping track of book sales and hoping I don't mess up the taxes. My own writing has been eclipsed by someone else's and instead of working on my own novel I'm writing letters to bookstores asking them to carry her book. On top of it all, most people have no idea I'm the person who edited, published and promoted Laura Fogg's book.' "This sucks," I say out loud.

My Muse solemnly stands and pirouetts to face me. "We will not feel sorry for ourselves. We will wear fabulous outfits on Friday and conduct ourselves as the publishing royalty we are. We are an elite club, you and I, and I refuse to let anyone diminish our accomplishments. Not even ourselves." She holds up a gold, Grecian tunic with emerald clasps. "This will look wonderful on you."

"It's a bit much, I think, but perfect for you."

"Then wear that new dress you bought, the green and black with the reflective beads."

"I like that one. Okay."

My Muse grins and shakes her full main of snake filled hair. "People won't know what hit them."

Inventory

The book is selling very well and I'd call this launch a huge success. It will be a while before we break even, but if published books only sell an average of 150 copies, we are well on our way to beating the average. Excellent!

Today, someone asked me how many books we've sold and I had to think for a bit. Let's see... this many at the conference, then add in the ones from the party, plus the two to my friend, the ones I dropped off at the bookstore, the ones Laura bought (but do those really count toward overall sales numbers?), several copies my mother-in-law said she bought from Amazon... um... I think... we've sold... this many? No, I forgot the five my friend bought as gifts. So that's ... um... wait... I lost my count.

This is ridiculous. I've been writing them down one by one in a notebook; the ones I've sold and the one's I've given away as gifts or as promotional copies. I'm positive I haven't forgotten to write any down, but I don't have a way to keep track automatically. I can't just pull up a number on any day and say, Ah ha! I've sold 50! Instead, I have to use my fingers and count hatch marks. Not a good way to run a business.

I've been learning how to use Peach Tree accounting software, and for creating invoices, it's great. Supposedly, once I learn how to use the program properly, it can tell me instantly what my sales are, my earnings, and eventually, my profit. I've been trying to input every sale into a Peach Tree invoice and I THINK I've figured it out. My husband told me the college teaches classes on how to use Peach Tree. You mean this program is so complicated you need a college class to use it? Great!

I ran across a software program "specifically for publishers." But it's $295.00 bucks. Seeing as I've already maxed one credit card, I'm not sure my business budget can handle another big bill. But what money am I losing simply by wandering around Peach Tree aimlessly? I'd better look into other options.

In the meantime, I'll keep plugging away at Peach Tree, so at least I can have a basic idea of where my books are going and who has actually PAID for one.

Juggling

Now that the book is launched and Medusa is open for business, I am learning to juggle the myriad parts of myself and my life. All the labels I wear are gracelessly colliding; Mom, Writer, Publisher, Wife, Pet-Owner, Home-Owner, Business-Owner. Medusa's catch phrase, "Transforming Chaos into Art," has taken an all too personal meaning as I climb over piles of laundry to get to my room, hunt for a pen that actually works, then try to clear a spot on my desk to pay a bill. I can't sit on my chair because it is piled with three coats and the blue ball-gown I wore for Halloween. Instead, I'm perched on the step stool, trying to reach the key board while my cat presses her nose against my wrist.

Yesterday was another book event for Laura. Her boss threw a book party and all of Laura's co-workers and many of the families included in the book were going to be there. 30 minutes before the party, Laura called needing a ride. No problem. I went into my daughter's room and announced it was time to go to "the party." My daughter didn't budge. She sat on her bed in full 12 year old angst with snot running from her nose.

I asked if she was feeling alright.

"Yes," she growled.

I wiped her nose and felt her head. A little warm, but she said she's fine, so we should still be able to go, right?

The child would not budge.

"Do you want to go?" I asked.

She wrapped her arms around herself tightly and said, "I don't know."

Just then, my husband walked in the door, ready to go to the party, too. He's the book designer and has so far missed any of the celebrating. Now it looked like he couldn't come to this party either. He said no problem, he needed to study for school any way. Class started in an hour. That gave me about 45 minutes at the party.

I grabbed a few books, drove madly to grab Laura, who I had made late while fighting with my daughter, and arrived at the party for my 30 minutes of celebration. I was bummed. This was the one night my girl could come and share in the celebration. She was on the cover of the dang thing, and a whole chapter was about her. I wanted to show her off and let her feel some of the energy I felt sharing the glow of Laura's book. Oh well. I drank some apple juice, gave the books to Laura, and went home.

Sometimes this motherhood gig sucks.

This is one of the reasons Medusa is a success

Jane Mackay is one of those people who can spell any obscure English word you can imagine, and she's saved my professional butt more times than I can count. With her diligence, Medusa is able to produce works of high quality. There are NO spelling errors in a Medusa book (well, none Jane missed. Sometimes things happen in the design department -me and Rick- that she doesn't know about, but we discuss that now).

Here is a link to her website, for those who also need a grammar and spelling perfectionist.

Being a Fairy Godmother

 

 

 

The book launch at the California Association of Orientation and Mobility Specialists in Montery was incredible! The above photos are of Laura and Pete, Laura reading,and Me and Laura at the Medusa table with her book. Laura did an excellent job reading and everyone there appeared excited about the book. We sold quite a few, but the highlight of the entire trip was when Laura presented a book to Pete Werzburger, the "godfather" of Orientation and Mobility. During and after WWII, there were thousands of soldiers returning from battle who were rendered blind from their injuries. These were healthy young men who faced a world of dependence and disability. Pete Werzburger decided to do something about it and he pioneered the use of the white cane and other mobility techniques to help these men. From there, the field evolved from being strictly about rehab and veterans to schools and children. Every person in the US who uses a white can owes a debt of gratitude to Pete, and he was Laura's teacher when she was learning O and M.

Pete is now in his 80's and was able to come to the conference with his family. On Friday night, Laura read from her book to about a hundred mobility instructors, including Pete. The room was completely silent and everyone appeared transfixed and moved by the reading. When she then presented Pete with a book, people stood and clapped loudly. Pete said a few words, but even he appeared to be touched by Laura's words of praise and gratitude. I looked around the room and took in the joy of that moment; the room filled with cheering people, Pete's family beaming, Pete grinning, Laura with happy tears in her eyes, and I understood exactly how it feels to be a fairy godmother. Through my hard work, talent, dedication, and credit card, I helped make this moment possible. I helped Laura's dream become real and in so doing touched the heart of an old man and many others. Even if this book doesn't make a dime, that moment made everything worth it.

Happily, we did make a dime. A few dimes. People bought lots of books and are really excited about it. Laura was so happy she giggled almost the entire day. And I again enjoyed watching her chat with "fans" and sign books.

This work is the most fulfilling work I have ever known, and maybe someday, I'll be able to earn a living from it.

Happy Book Launch Day

Today's the day. Traveling Blind is available for purchase as of today. Laura is officially a published writer, and I am officially her publisher. I dropped ten books at the Mendocino Book Company and am waiting to see if sales actually come in. Will we sell a thousand books? Or ten? Time will tell. Either way, I'm having a great time doing this, although my Muse is a little bored with the day to day, business end of it. Inventory and shipping are dirty words to her. Creating the book is wonderful; trying to sell it is something she doesn't want anything to do with.

We set up a link on the Medusa's Muse website so people can order books directly. Otherwise, I encourage people to either get it from their local bookstore (go in and bug them. They can order it for you from Ingram. This will help generate some buzz and get the book into the bookstores)or order it from Amazon.

Still waiting to hear from Powell's. I really hope they decide to carry the book too. If anyone lives in the Portland area, would you mind requesting the book?

Time to get back to packing for the conference tomorrow. Wish us luck.

Divine Busy-ness

One week before book launch and the pace really picked up with all those last minute things that must be done NOW. I still have more questions than answers, but I check each item off the list one by one. Unfortunately, updating this blog has taken a back seat to the other minutia that requires my attention. Once the initial rush settles down (and when will that be, exactly?) I can fill you in on the intricacies of launching a book.

Some very exciting news, though. Traveling Blind is already listed on the Internet stores of Barnes and Noble, Borders, and Amazon.com. After I emailed book launch spam... I mean info... to all my friends and family, one of those friends sent me the Amazon link to the book. We all did a happy dance and I promptly had a panic attack. I'm sure the reason we're on those websites is because we are in the Ingram catalogue simply because we're using Lightning. Really no big deal, but seeing the book on the Internet for anyone to find and buy was THRILLING. It's not just people in Ukiah who can buy it; it's the whole world.

(Oh no. I think I just gave myself another panic attack.)

We're also setting up the paypal account on the website to sell books directly. Far more complicated than I thought it would be, but I'll explain how that process worked and how I finally made my decision about selling on the site when I have a wee bit more time (again, I'd really like to know when that will be.)

To top it all off, I have a midterm in Marketing the same day as our book launch! Thank you to my instructor for letting me make up the test when I get back. But I still need to study, which I'd better do right now. No more time to check in.

One odd thing, though... on Amazon there is a third party discounter selling the book. Who are these people and how did they get a book which hasn't even been sold yet? If any of you know, please send a comment and explain this mystery to me.

Thanks for your support. I promise, more details later, but I gotta run. I have a test to study for, three book readings to plan, a trip to Montery, bookstores to contact, and more networking to do in the next two weeks.

Boxes of Books

When the UPS guy brought the books to my door, I didn't scare him this time. Calmly he and I carried ten boxes of books from Lightning Source into my living room. I opened one box to inspect the contents but remembered that I should keep the books stored in their original box as Dan Poynter recommends to prevent damage. I sat down on the couch and examined a few of the books, looking for blemishes or wrinkles. Each book I flipped through was absolutely pristine. Beautiful. The colors on the cover are rich. The printing vibrant. Lightning Source has done an excellent job.

Next week is the official book launch of Traveling Blind. Laura stopped by a little while ago and picked up a box to share with her writing group. She hugged me tightly and is so happy with how her book turned out. In that moment, I understood what a muse must feel; the vicarious excitement knowing you helped someone fulfill their dream. I helped her bring her book to life, and now I'm helping her spread the word about it. All those hours of editing, designing, setting up the business, building a website, researching publishing, forking out too much money... all of it is for this moment. Laura's book is real and I helped make it possible. But it is Jane and Rick who helped me pull it off. Without their support and knowledge, this task would have been impossible.

Thank you Jane for helping me with the editing and for all those unpaid hours you've put into marketing and research. Thank you for believing in me enough to want to join this crazy venture.

Thank you Rick for the website, the book design, and now the audio version you're still struggling with. Thank you for standing in the middle of the street with your camera to get that perfect shot of the asphalt for the cover.

And thank you Laura for trusting me enough with your creation and letting me publish it. You've made my dream come true too.

Fulfillment

We just hit a snag at Medusa, namely, how do we sell books from the website? The original plan was that Lightning Source would be "drop-shipping" the books when orders were submitted to our website. Only problem is, Lightning Source will only drop-ship after you've listed 25 titles with them. 25 titles? Let's see, 3 titles per year divided into 25 means in...8 1/2 years we can sell books directly from them.

In the mean time, if I want to directly sell books from Medusa, I need to do it myself. Okay... um... how do I do that?

Order fulfillment is a complicated, labor intensive process and most publishing companies hire outside help. Seeing as I have no more money in my operating budget, I can't afford help. That means I get to pack a book someone has ordered and send it to the address they gave. Should be simple, right? For some reason this is a very complicated process.

First, you need to decide how people are going to give you money and request a book. After some investigating, I've decided to use Pay Pal. I know there is some controversy about Pay Pal, but for the time being, it is the best choice because of its reliability and ease of use. I have signed up for a merchant account with Pay Pal and now Rick is checking out the steps to set up a link on the website and the parameters we want to use for a "shopping cart."

Next, I am hunting for a space to store ten boxes of books in my 1000 square foot house. As it is now, my office is my lap-top and my desk is crammed into a corner of my bedroom, covered with paperwork and other notes. Somewhere, I need a spot for book storage and processing orders. Kitchen?

Then, I need to find good mailers. Dan Poynter recommends Jiffy-Lite bags. I wonder how many I will need? And how much will it cost to ship a book, anyway? A 6x9 paperback will cost... what? How do I figure out shipping costs? Do I do a standard amount? Send them all media mail? Should I buy a big role of stamps and a meter? How many trips to the post office will I make every week?

Finally, I need a good way to keep track of orders. Who ordered which book and where did they want it sent? Did the book get there? If not, why? Not only is this important for good customer service, but it's vital for tax purposes. I wonder if there's a good program.

I have a feeling I'll be learning the best way to provide fulfillment simply by doing it. Standard trial and error. As long as I don't muck up orders too badly I can figure out the most efficient way to do it. And besides, I can always encourage people to just order from Amazon if it turns out I'm bad at this. Sometimes, the easy way is the right way.

A Muses Portrait

My Muse had her portrait done in honor of the press. She spent many hours hanging out with Nate at the tattoo shop, posing and preening and enjoying herself so much she hardly came home at night, leaving me all the fun work of setting up the business structure of the press. At first, I enjoyed the peace and quiet, but I began to miss her constant chatter and snake hiss. At last, she triumphantly returned, bringing this beautiful image with her.



"I am pleased. If I ever get bored with you, I will be going to Nate. He is a true artist." She then lay down on my bed for a three day nap.

The Book Is Here!!!

Yesterday, a UPS truck parked in front of my house. When my Muse and I heard the squeak of the breaks and then the distinct sound of the truck's back door being raised, we stared at each other, both frozen with the expectation. Is it really for us? I looked out the front window and saw the UPS guy was indeed walking up our steps.

"It's here!" I screamed and ran for the door. The UPS guy stopped on the first step and stared at me like I might be an ax murderer as I flung open the front door, squealing and jumping. He dropped the package quickly on the porch and stepped back, far away from the crazy woman who had snatched up the package and was hugging it to her breast, saying, "Thank you! Thank you," over and over. He backed away, one hand fearfully waiving, and didn't turn around until he'd reached his truck.

I brought the package inside and shut the door, almost knocking over my muse. "Let's see it!" We ran to the kitchen where I found a knife to slice the tape that locked our book inside. At last, I pulled away the cardboard and revealed our beautiful, thick. glossy, perfect book.

"Is it alright?" my muse whispered, her voice tight with the suspense.

I examined the cover, front and back. Lovely. Then I gently turned to the first page. Good. The second. Nice. I flipped pages more rapidly, feeling the soft, almost dusty texture of the cream paper and smelling the fresh binding. Yes, yes... oh my God, it's beautiful.

"It's perfect," I said.

She grabbed the book from my hand and looked at it, almost drooling with pleasure. "Yes. It's wonderful!" We jumped up and down and squealed some more, which made the poor dog run away and hide in the other room until we stopped making that awful noise. At last, she handed the book back to me and we smiled at each other. "Thank you," she said.

I hugged her tightly, not caring if the snakes bit. "Thank you! This was your crazy idea, you know."

She nodded and grinned. "Glad you listened?"

"Yes. Most defiantly."

Money

I opened a business account at Washington Mutual, which has been my bank for 10 years and I've always been happy with them. As usual, the person I worked with was very friendly and helpful, even though she had missed her lunch and had a line of customers waiting for her. She took the time to answer my questions and since I already had a personal account, it was a snap to open a business account.

Then she asked, "Would you like to open a line of credit?"

"A what?" I stared at her blankly. I had already agreed to apply for a business credit card because that seemed the best way to keep track of purchases. Put it all on the card, pay it off as quickly as possible, preferably the same month. So what's this line of credit thing?

"You can borrow up to $75,000.00 simply by using your checking account. If you need to make a purchase that would make your account overdrawn, you can write the check and that would tap into your line of credit."

$75,0000? Honey, do you know what kind of business I have? It's a publishing company, a small, sole proprietorship, with two books, maybe three, published per year. Most presses barely make a dime and I'll be lucky if I break even. Why in God's name would anyone want to loan a book publisher THAT much money?

But my brain just grabbed onto that amount and began spinning visions of the new laptop I needed for my business and a top of the line color laser printer, plus a new desk, a fax machine, a cell phone that took pictures, and a car, because a business person can't drive around town in a beat up Honda Mini-Van.

"I'll think about it," I said.

The next day, the bank called to let me know the credit card application was approved and had I decided on the line of credit? Kissing my dreams of a fax machine goodbye, I told her I thought it was a good idea, but I only needed $10,000.00 as my limit. She said she'd get that paperwork done asap.

Oh well, maybe next year I'll buy a cell phone that takes pictures. Like one of those IPhones. That would be cool.

Good Enough?

After sending the manuscript and cover files to LSI, I got a message from Jane, telling me how happy she is that we're done. HOWEVER, she found two small errors in the text of the back of book info. Was it too late to fix them?

Great! Just great! I took a look at the book and saw what she was talking about: I didn't capitalize "Ford" and the word "she's" means "she is," not "she has." Lovely! My brain immediately began tabulating how many books I would have to sell to cover the cost of changing the file I had just sent to the printer. And does it matter? Such tiny mistakes; the kind most people won't even notice, and if someone does, they probably wouldn't buy the book anyway if the mistakes bugged them that much. No, doesn't matter. Go with it.

Or does it? Am I really the kind of publisher to let mistakes slide just to save some cash? Quality is extremely important to me. One of the biggest complaints people have about small presses and self publishers is poor quality. I don't want to be one of those presses. There's a reason my partner is a stickler for the proper use of a comma. Attention to detail shows professional work. Medusa may be small, but we are professional and I won't lower my standards just to save a few dollars.

You have to decide what "Good Enough" means for you. There is a point when you have to go with what you have because the deadline has passed. I'm sure Laura has looked at her manuscript a few more times since giving it to me and wishes she could add or change just one more thing. No. It is good enough and now it's time to let go. Rick, our designer, has tweaked and re-done the interior text at least 22 times. There's more he'd like to do, but the deadline is passed. And once the book is printed and out into the world, I'll bet I find a dozen things I wished I'd done differently. Too late. I've sent it to the printer.

Thankfully, LSI has an excellent communication system and my account manager was able to help me send the corrections without additional costs. Once I get the sample copy, I really hope I'll be able to look at it and feel satisfied that it's good enough for Medusa. There's no such thing as perfection, so good enough will have to do.

Today I Pushed "Send"

Today, I sent the cover and interior files to Lightning Source. As soon as I got the confirmation the files had successfully uploaded, I felt like crying. This whole crazy, Medusa inspired dream is coming true. Every step brings it closer to reality and very soon, I will be able to hold the real, page turning, beautiful book.

My Muse sat quietly beside me as we watched the little spinning pinwheel whirl around on the screen while the upload process advanced. When it was all done we just sat quietly together for a moment, both smiling, enjoying the feeling of excitment and pride. She didn't have to say a word; I knew she was proud of me.

I can't wait for the book-proof!

Licenses, Numbers and Other Details

It's down to the proverbial wire, and now all those little details have to be figured out. Can't put off the business decisions anymore, so on September 11th I filed for my business license as a sole proprietor. Then I filed a fictitious name statement with the county clerk. No turning back now, I'm official. Of course, signing the contract with Laura made the press official, but now the tax collector knows I exist and once the "doing business as" is posted in the local newspaper, I'll really be in the public eye. Before, this press was a dream of mine which Jane decided looked like fun, and then Laura joined on. It was a fun idea. Now it's a real business.

So many details as the publication date gets closer. The next business thing to do is open a business account at the bank, then get a resale license so I can sell books directly. Set up a pay-pal account for the website, find an accountant to help Jane with the tax stuff, and hope I haven't forgotten something important as I create a formal business structure.

Beyond that, I got the library of congress control number, which has to be added to the copyright page. I sent the contract to LSI to set up a printing account. Rick and I are finalizing the interior of the book through guess work, comparisons, and a book by Pete Masterson. Luckily Rick already knows InDesign or we'd be completely lost. It's been weeks of reading and re-reading the text, finding the problems, balancing the text, looking for "orphans" and "widows" and then handing it off to Laura to double check. Of course she found things we missed. But this is good; creating a book is a collaborative process. More polish and rearranging in the text. Should the word be hyphenated or not? What about the spacing on page 112? Is that how you spell audacity?

And then there is the back of the book info. What can I say about the book that will relay what it is about and why someone should buy it? Why is this book important? What will compel someone to plunk down $16.00? What will they get for their money? All I can think of is "this is a really good book and you should buy it." Great! Where's my Muse when I need her?

More details: Where does the price go on the back of the book? Should we use the BISAC catalogue number, and if so, which category does it go under? Memoir, yes, but what kind of memoir? How much time do bookstores need to order the book before the actual release date to have it in stock? Who do I talk to about setting up readings? Wait a minute, why am I doing that? Shouldn't Laura do that? No, I should help, so what do I say? Is there a procedure for this? What if the resale license doesn't arrive in time? Can I still sell books at the conference, or will I get in trouble? Where did I put those receipts? Why doesn't the back of the book info actually fit on the back of the book? How many books should I pre-order? How many books come in a box? How many books do we need for gifts? Do I have all the permission forms? Where can I find a good accountant who knows something about the publishing business? Did we send out enough press releases? Has anyone called us about it? Do we follow up with calls, or is that being pushy? What am I doing? No really, WHAT AM I DOING?

First day of Revisions

I finally did sit down with my old novel and start revising. My first thought was, UK! This is horrible! Okay, I'm sure it's not horrible, but have you ever pulled out something you've written a few years ago and looked at it, keeping in mind what you know about writing now? Some of it is good, but there's quite a lot that needs work. ALOT of work. And my muse... she's enjoying this. She reads over my shoulder and giggles now and then.

"Go away, you're not helping," I say.

"I'm not here to help."

"Then what exactly are you doing?"

"Watching you try to create something good out of this crap."

I slam the lid of my lap-top closed and glare at her. "This was your idea, remember."

"I know. But when I suggested it I had no idea how bad your book actually is."

I lay my head on my computer. "Please go away. I don't need this. I really don't."

She flops onto my bed and starts picking at the edge of one of her finger-nails. "I mean, you told me you wrote a book so I assumed it was worth the effort, but what you've been working on is not what I'd call a book."

My face is still pressed against the plastic cover of my lap-top. "What is it then?"

"A futile whine for attention. I mean, what's the point? Why bother? Is it just a way for you to vent about the fact Paul died, or is this really ABOUT something?"

"It's about the power of friendship over death."

"Whatever that's supposed to mean."

I lift my head and look at her. "I know it needs work, but I think it's good stuff and with more polish I can really turn this into something beautiful. So please give me a little peace and quiet to do that, okay?"

She glances up at me as she bites her nail. "Sure, sure. Get back to work. I don't know why you're even arguing with me about it." She spits a piece of the nail she bit off. "Just pretend I'm not here, because I'm sure you know EXACTLY what you're doing."

I know what she wants. "What do you suggest I do?"

"Keep writing. Don't worry about me." She chews another nail.

I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. "No really. I'd like to know what you think."

"Well, for one, make sure there are enough scenes to SHOW what's happening because no one wants to read your long, boring, exposition. In fact, you should mark each one, and then look for places where you can create even more." She sits up and leans toward me.

"Show don't tell. Basic. What else."

"Don't get snippy. You asked for my help."

"Sorry. Please continue." I open my lap-top to show her I'm interested.

She stands. "More sensory detail. Your writing often lacks that. Make sure the time and place are really vivid. Oh, and keep it focused on your relationship with Paul and less on what happened after his death. If it isn't directly related to the friendship, cut it."

My muse keeps rambling and I study the manuscript as she talks, showing her I appreciate her help. I do, it's just sometimes the WAY she helps is a bit rough. She's very good at pointing out what's awful, and barely mentions what works. Sometimes I really wish I had one of those nice muses; the kind who applaud and bring you chocolate every time you write a good sentence. Mine hits me with books when I write a poor sentence.

I'll keep working on this manuscript, and hopefully it will become something really good. All I can do is try. Maybe that's the secret to being a writer. No matter what your muse says, you just have to keep trying.

What is Marketing?

I hate to say this, but I now understand why a rejection letter might say "Your writing is lovely, but we don't think we can sell the book." Or why you may hear from your agent that the publisher's marketing department decided to "pass" on your book. Marketing department? What does the marketing department know about good writing? Have those people even read a book?

I am publishing Laura's book because I love it. The writing is excellent and the subject compelling, especially because she writes about children with such clarity and descriptive power, the fact they are blind becomes incidental. The blindness is a challenge and can be difficult, but it's not the only thing that matters to these children. They are vivid, powerful human beings. I don't feel sorry for them while reading this book, and that is a hard thing to accomplish. Laura is a great writer who understands her students.

But I am also publishing her book because I know it can sell. She has a huge contact list, is well respected in the community, and is comfortable talking to people about herself and her work. If I had the cash, I'd publish it regardless of whether or not I thought I could sell it. Since I don't have much money, and need to keep Medusa alive somehow, I need to earn back the money I spend on the project. I don't expect to get rich at this because I know being a publisher is a bad way to earn a retirement fund. I am a publisher because I love books and I want to help people who may not get a chance tell their story. If I don't think I can sell at least enough books to pay the printer, then I will pass on the project.

Marketing is looking at the project as a whole and figuring out before you invest much energy, time or money, if it is viable. Viability means - can the project support itself? This is different from Public Relations because PR is about spreading the word when the book is complete. Marketing is figuring out if you can afford to publish it at all.

So I cut my novel from the Medusa project list. I wrote a fiction book two years ago and have been desperately trying to get it published. I'm up to 70 rejection letters. Most have been very nice, but the nice ones say, "I like your writing, but I don't think this project can compete in the market." Can't sell it. I decided, screw it! I'll publish it myself. Then I began to question that logic. Is this project a good match for Medusa? Does it fit the mission of the press: "To tell the stories of people who have faced despair and used it to positively transform their lives?" No, my book doesn't. Not really. Does it have the ability to support itself? Doubt it. Then no matter how much I long to see my book in print, I have to let it go. Because the press is more important than my own desires.

Instead I am looking at another project of mine. The book about Paul. Does the book match our mission? Yes. Can it sustain itself? Perhaps. The run will be small, so I'll need to keep costs low. I feel it is important to tell this story, but it is actually Paul's story, not so much mine. His life and friendship profoundly effected mine and I want to share that journey with others. Then it is an important project for Medusa and the marketing department (Jane and I) need to examine all the parts of the project to determine costs, distribution and PR.

And that is what Marketing is.

The Manuscript is Done!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Yesterday, I was jumping up and down and squealing like a 15 year old with front row tickets to a Green Day concert. My partner was doing the exact same thing on the other side of the country and we were texting each other madly, saying OMG over and over (I love technology. How else can you run a company with a partner who lives 2000 miles away?). My muse was giggling and I swear even the snakes were smiling. Why all the excitement? Because the final version of the manuscript is DONE! OMG. SQUEAL. JUMP UP AND DOWN. RUN AROUND THE ROOM. THIS IS SO AWESOME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Laura finished her last edits and name changes then sent it to Jane who did her super-power-editing-voodoo on it. Over a two week period the two of them sent notes back and forth to clarify a person or idea, find a new word, figure out a complicated scene, all while cc'ing me. I kept myself out of the process and just watched them put the final polish on an already excellent manuscript. But now, it is even better than I could have imagined. Jane also put it in the proper format and created a cover page for a galley version. May I just state for everyone that I love my partner?

Here it is. The final, official, no-more-changes book.

UNCORRECTED PROOF FOR LIMITED DISTRIBUTION
________________________________________



TRAVELING BLIND
Lessons on Life from Unlikely Teachers
By Laura Fogg



Category: Memoir, Non-Fiction
ISBN: 978-0-9797152-0-4
Pub Date: November 1, 2007
Price: $16
Pages: 280 (approx.)
Trim Size: 6 x 9
Binding: Softcover
Backmatter: List of Resources (pending)
Editors: Terena Scott, Jane Mackay
Distributor: Ingram (and affiliates)
Publisher: Medusa’s Muse
medusasmuse@gmail.com
www.medusasmuse.com


I'm gonna jump up and down and squeal some more!

Paul

Today I went to visit the grave of my best friend Paul, who died of AIDS in 1992. Paul was my brother in every way except biology. We became friends when we were seven and through everything life threw at us, we stood together and faced it. He believed in me even when I didn't, and his absence in my life still breaks my heart after fifteen years.

As I drove home, I thought about him and what he meant to me, then I thought about the book I wrote for him, a memoir I spent ten years writing, only to set on a shelf in my room and never try to publish. Why did I put it away? Life got hectic and I started writing a new book, so the book about Paul was stuck on a bottom shelf and ignored.

But today, my Muse pulled it off the shelf and hit me with it. Without a word, she struck me on the back of my head with the heavy, plastic binder, and then plopped the manuscript in my lap. She vanished before I could complain. I touched the cover, opened to the first page, saw some things I would change, shut the binder quickly, and just sat there. Do I really want to take this project on again?

I smiled. Yes, I do. I need to share this story; tell people who Paul was and what he means to me. Show people how friendship is more powerful than AIDS or death. Remind us all that AIDS is still here; it didn't move to Africa at the turn of the century. And, because the mission of Medusa's Muse Press is to look despair in the eye and transform it into something beautiful. Besides, what my Muse commands I must obey.

Before my Muse found me, before I discovered Ariel Gore, Paul was my inspiration and mentor. When he died, he became my guide. My very first, original muse.

The Photo Shoot

On the day we went to Laura's house to take pictures for the cover, my muse decided to stay home, stating she had the utmost trust in Rick's ability with a camera. I think she was more worried about her hair than the book at that moment. It was a brilliant shade of sparkling white, so bright it made me squint, and the snakes were furiously tying themselves into knots. She threw a scarf over her head, told me to have a good time, and vanished. I was a little worried about the stylist.

Laura had a vision in the middle of a sleepless night of what the cover should look like. From the excitement in her voice, I knew she was on the right path. It had to be a direct message from her own muse; a muse I haven't met but who must be kinder than mine. A few days later, we were at her house with one of her students, a four year old girl I will call "B" and my own daughter, "R." Immediately the two girls began to play with the water in the small fountain that hung on a wall in Laura's back yard. Rick pulled out the camera and started shooting, desperately trying to keep up with the giggles and grins of the two girls. Laura joined in and before long, B's yellow dress was drenched. Laura's original vision was of her holding B while looking up at sunflowers. We all traipsed next door where the neighbor's sunflowers were 12 feet tall. Rick caught more images of Laura and B looking at the flowers, touching them, pointing at them with the white cane, then showing them to R who watched while sitting in her wheelchair. The garden path was narrow and the shadows thick, so Rick struggled with the terrain, the other plants and how quickly the children moved. Children aren't very happy sitting still to "pose." And besides, we wanted it to be spontaneous. A mobility lesson is often that way; you start out with one plan and then the child or the world provides a different direction. Go with it, or lose the moment, and lesson, entirely.

We returned to Laura's garden for more pictures: B walking the garden path with her white-cane, Laura holding her hand, both girls picking black-berries, more splashing in the fountain. After an hour, B was showing signs she was bored with picture taking by whining, so we called it a day. Rick felt we had enough to work with, but also felt he didn't capture the one, perfect shot. Oh well, perfection is elusive and kids are even harder.

But when he downloaded the pictures, we discovered he had managed to take three very good images. Three out of 50 is excellent! And after some debate amongst the four of us, we chose one. An image of Laura squatting beside a laughing B who is holding a sunflower out to R. The image is perfect, because it shows what the book is about: Laura the teacher, who is supporting a child who is showing another child the object. Who is really the teacher? Laura, or the child? In my mind, all of them are.

Rick is now doing the layout of the cover with the picture. It's looking great! If my muse ever comes back from the salon, I'm sure she'll be happy too.

Another Gravity Check

My Muse is stomping across the living room, eyes red with fury, every snake stretching out from under her dark hair, hissing and snapping. I stay far away from her. I just got off the phone with the lawyer I was referred to by California Lawyers for the Arts, a non-profit organization that helps artists with legal issues, and she doesn't like what they told me.

"Insufferable! Intolerable! This is an insult to my work! Our work! Laura's work! How does anyone write a book or paint a picture, or do anything artistic with lawyers breathing down their back?"

"He was very helpful and friendly."

She waves her hand at me. "Not him. I'm sure he was fine. I'm talking about the lawyers who could come after us a few years from now for publishing a book that might make someone, someday, upset. Scandalous! How can you work under this shadow of fear?"

"Carefully."

"The restrictions on what you can and cannot say. Changing names... intolerable! I mean there's a reason we kept the real names..."

"Yes. But now there's a very good reason to change them."

My muse crosses her arms and glares at me so intently I feel my feet turn hard and cold. "Why are you so eager to go along with it?"

I look away quickly. My feet tingle as if waking from sleep."I'm protecting the work. I'm not going along with anything." I cautiously walk toward her while keeping an eye on the snakes. "When a story is written down, it becomes tangible and isn't pure inspiration anymore. If you decide to share that story with the rest of the world, that means they get to read it and once that happens, the work is transformed into a living thing. It becomes a part of the reader. That's why it's important to protect the story from harm. Not limit the words or deny its truth, but strengthen the story's impact by giving it a foundation based on the physical world. The physical world is governed by laws, finances, budgets, taxes, and marketing."

"Disgusting! I can't believe I'm hearing this from you. I thought you were an artist!"

"I am."

"Then act like one!"

I stand my ground and meet her gaze. "I am."

She blinks. The red light in her eyes simmers and turns gold.

"I am acting like an artist who believes in this work so much that I am willing to do whatever I have to do to get it out into the world where people can read it. There are too many artists who ignore the rules that govern the art world so their work is never seen..."

"Revolutionaries!"

"Yes. Many are. And they take the risk that their work will cause pain. But if they are smart, they do it with eyes wide open. They don't hide behind the idea that since they are artists they don't have to know the consequences of their actions. They can stand beside their work and say proudly they understand the work may be controversial but they consciously chose to show it anyway. I respect those people enormously." I am standing beside my muse now, within striking distance of her snakes. "We are publishing this book and we will deal with whatever may happen in the future. But we are publishing it with eyes wide open and we are protecting ourselves not by changing the message, but by changing a name. That's all."

I wait. She is silent. The snakes look at me. Then slowly, she nods. "I see. Alright. I'll trust you on this." I take a deep breath. I won't be bitten, at least not this time. I rest my hand on her arm and my muse turns to me, her eyes back to green. Then she smiles a slow smile that makes me nervous. "But if I think for a moment you're giving in to lawyers out of fear, I will leave you immediately and you will never write another word again. Clear?"

"Absolutely clear."

"Good." She grins and pats my hand. "I'm off to get my hair done now. You'd better get to work on that manuscript. " She disappears with a wave.

I wonder where muses get their hair done?



"

Covers

Figuring out what the cover of your book should look like is a lot like trying to figure out exactly what outfit to wear to the interview for that job you want so badly that if you don't get it you'll slit your own throat. Should you look subdued and dress in gray? Is a suit too professional, or professional enough? Would a soft pink blouse be too feminine, or since the color goes well with your skin tone, make a good impression on the interviewer? Oh yes, this is the woman who wore that lovely shade of pink. Forget pink, what if you wear a bright red dress? Too bold, or is making a bold statement the right thing to do? You try on every outfit you have, terrified of picking something that will make you look more tired than you actually are, or possible too sexy. Or is sexy a good thing?

My muse and I have been struggling with the cover design for Traveling Blind. We started with a picture Laura took of a bright yellow road sign which shows a curvy road and says "next 23 miles." The sign has personal meaning to Laura and clearly shows the theme of the book. Traveling. Blind. Not sure where you're going. Lots of curves along the way. Gotta keep going forward. The sign stays.

But our first attempt gave the impression the book is a travel book and is far too similar looking to another memoir set in Mendocino County. Back to the drawing board. We keep the sign, but how do we show that this is about the "unlikely teachers:" Laura's students?

Enter Rick, our in-house graphic designer and my wonderful life-partner. My muse watched him work and from her silent attention I knew she was impressed. She doesn't know a thing about Photo-Shop and refuses to touch a computer key-board, so it's fun to watch her try and hide her ignorance while at the same time being fascinated by Rick manipulating an image on the computer screen. After several days, much discussion, and taking pictures of our bored but willing daughter, he presented us with four ideas.

My muse and I laid them out on the couch and studied them. One has my daughter's grinning face with the ocean in the background. Another has the two of us holding hands with the forest in the background. Two more have our silhouette in shadow, one with the ocean and the other with the forest. All have the road sign.

I looked at my muse who was frowning. "What do you think?"

She shook her head. "Hard to say."

"Which do you like best?"

"Very hard to say."

We silently stared at the cover samples and then I picked up the one with my daughter's face. "This one is nice, but is that because it's my daughter?"

"It is nice. A real child on the cover to show who the teachers are. And nothing catches the eye more than a child, and we need something to really grab the person browsing in the store." She touched the one with us holding hands. "I like this one also."

"Do you like the forest or the ocean?"

"Hard to say. They both express different moods." She tapped the one of us holding hands. "I'd like to see this one with the ocean in the background. And you should ask Laura what she thinks."

Laura stopped by later that day with a white cane so we could take more pictures of my daughter for possible use on the cover. I showed her the images while my muse lounged on the chair beside her and watched.

Laura also liked the child and the hand-holding, but said that the shadows were disturbing somehow. "I don't know which is better, but the only thing that grabs someone's attention more than a child is a cute animal." I glanced at my muse and she nodded. Laura also wanted to see the hands with the ocean in the background and she gave good technical advice about the layout of the cover. It's good working with someone with a degree in Art.

Later, I gave the notes to Rick who seemed happy to have something more to work with than a road sign and some vague suggestions about "showing the teachers." I realized just how lucky we are that he understands graphic art and design, and is a wiz at Photo-Shop.

That night, he was still working on the cover when I went to bed, my muse by his side, leaning toward him, watching everything he did.

My First Muse

My Muse hands me a gift wrapped in sea-green tissue paper. "Here. For all your hard work."

I stare at her, wondering if this is MY muse and not some other muse shape-shifted to look like mine. My muse does not give gifts. She brings insults and demands, but never gifts. "What's this?"

"A present. What do you think?"

"Why are you giving me a present?"

"Suspicious little thing. Fine. Give it back." She reaches for the package but I hold it tight against my chest.

"No way. It's mine."

"Then open it and stop staring at me like I've just handed you a bomb."

I gently tear the tissue paper and pull out a paper-back book. How to become a famous writer before you're dead, by Ariel Gore. "Wow. I've been wanting this."

My muse smiles, looking very pleased with herself. "I know."

"This is supposed to be great! Thank you so much." I hug her tightly, startling all the snakes who are too surprised to bite me.

"You're welcome." She squeezes me quickly before pushing me away. "I want to make sure you don't give up on your own writing by spending so much time publishing other people's. I still expect a great book out of you."

"I know. And you'll get it." I flip the book over and examine Ariel's picture. "She was the first person to ever publish me. Hip Mama magazine, about 6 years ago. She's so great. She's like my first muse, you know"

"You're first muse?" My muse purses her lips and squints. All the snakes shiver.

"In a way. I never met her or anything, and she's never visited, but she really inspired me back then. Single mom, writer, put out her own zine, worked her butt off to write novels. .. I mean, she's the kind of person I admire. She's a real, living muse."

My muse snatches the book from my hand. "Fine. Then tell her to come here and sit by your side and encourage you to write for God knows how many endless hours. Maybe she'll put up with your weak prose and inane plot lines, because I'm bored with it."

"Whoa. Hold on. I didn't say I wanted her to be my muse now. She was my first muse, but you're my muse today. Even when you treat me like crap and tell me I can't write, you're still my muse."

She folds her arms and looks away. "I don't treat you like crap."

I try not to laugh. It is very dangerous to laugh in the face of your muse. They are prone to disappear for weeks and only return when you're on your knees, clutching sheets of blank paper, begging them to come back.

"You have nothing to worry about. You're my muse now, snakes and all." I gently slide the book out of her hand and she lets it go without looking at me.

"Maybe."

"No maybes. And this gift...," I hold up the book. "This gift proves how much of a wonderful muse you are."

"I'm just trying to be more encouraging."

"Thank you."

"You say I'm too hard on you, so I'm trying to be nicer."

"I appreciate that."

"You can keep the gift, but only if you promise to put it to good use, and that includes writing me another book."

"I promise."

We look at each other for a moment and slowly my muse begins to smile. The snakes relax and curl around each other in peaceful loops.

Then she puts her hands on her hips and says, "But I don't want to hear you talk about any other muses ever again, got it?"

I hold up one hand. "I swear.

After she leaves the room, I add How to Become a Famous Writer Before You're Dead to the Medusa College Reading List. Hopefully she won't take it as a sign that I'm still thinking of Ariel Gore as a muse. I am, but my current muse doesn't have to know.

Medusa College

Here is the list I handed out during LitFest for anyone who would like a lead on good study materials.

Favorite Books:

1. Publishing for Profit: Bottom Line Management for Book Publishers
By Thomas Woll
2. Self Publishing Manual: How to Write, Print and Sell Your Book
By Dan Poynter
3. The Pre-Publishing Handbook: What you should know before you
publish your first book. By Patricia J. Bell
4. Book Design and Production. By Pete Masterson
5. The Writers Legal Guide. By Tad Crawford and Kay Murray
6. Business and Legal Forms for Authors and Publishers.
By Tad Crawford
7. Small Business Kit for Dummies. By Richard D. Harroch.

Favorite Web Sites:

1. Para Publishing: http://www.parapublishing.com/sites/para/
2. Small Publishers Association of America: http://www.spannet.org/index.htm
3. Publish L: http://noodlefactory.typepad.com/publishl/2006/01/subscribing_ins.html
4. POD Critic: http://podbookreview.blogspot.com/
5. Independent Book Publishers Association:
http://www.pma-online.org/index.cfm
6. Miss Snark: http://misssnark.blogspot.com/
7. Independent Publisher: http://independentpublisher.com/index.php
8. Guerrilla Press: http://www.guerrilla-press.com/index.html
9. Emerging Writers Network: http://www.emergingwriters.typepad.com/
10. Council of Literary Magazines and Small Presses:
http://www.clmp.org/
11. Book Ninja: http://www.bookninja.com/?page_id=14
12. Book Industry Study Group: http://www.bisg.org/index.html
13. Bay Area Independent Publishers Assoc. http://www.baipa.net/
14. Aeonix: http://www.aeonix.com/

Insecurity

When I got home from LitFest last night, my muse was waiting for me at the front door.

"What's up?" I asked, setting down my book bag.

She folded her arms and tapped her right foot. "What's up? What do you think? What was all that, 'I don't belong here... what do I know about anything... why am I hear...' crap?"

"What are you talking about?"

"You're insecurity was so palpable I could feel it all the way back to your house! Please explain why I have to keep bolstering your ego so you can walk out the front door!"

I walked toward the kitchen. "Is that what you call criticising my work? Bolstering my ego? Please. Since when have you ever bolstered my ego?"

She followed close behind. "You've got to start believing you're a publisher and accept the fact you know what you're doing, otherwise this entire scheme of yours is going to collapse."

I turned on the kettle and then leaned against the stove. "You have no idea what it was like sitting on the panel, listening to the other publishers talk about their presses and all the things they know and all I could offer was a reading list of books I've studied. I felt like a moron."

"Where do you think the others got their info? Do you think they knew what they were doing when they decided to publish?"

"No."

"Exactly. They all started where you are now. But they succeeded. And you will too, unless you keep insisting you're not worthy of my patronage. Then I'll just have to find someone more empowered."

I grinned. I can't help but laugh at the way my muse talks. Bolster my ego? Patronage? Usually my muse throws insults at me while she sunbathes. But for some unknown reason, I love every snake on her head.

All the snakes on her head stared at me. "You're laughing at me," she said.

"No, I'm not. I'm listening. And you're right. I have to start believing in myself. At least a little bit."

She stepped closer and put a hand on my arm. "I believe in you."

In all our time together, my muse has never spoken so kindly to me. I was mesmerized by her sea green eyes and the sincerity in her voice. My muse believes in me. That thought grew louder in my head and for one glorious moment, I believed I could successfully publish Laura's book.

Maybe I can. Maybe if I work hard enough, keep studying, and stay focused on creating the best book possible, I can keep Medusa's Muse alive. When fear and doubt get too loud, I will remember that moment when I understood how much faith my muse has in me. Perhaps that will help me have faith in myself. At least a little.

We Have A Web-Site!

My boy stayed up late to get the web site up in time for LitFest, and here it is:

http://medusasmuse.com/

It feels like a grand opening, like this is our storefront, complete with fire crackers to ward off evil spirits. There are still a few more boxes to unpack, a few more bits of decoration to add, but the door is open and the word is out.

My muse is pleased.

And just in time. LitFest is tomorrow and I will be a speaker on the publishing panel.

http://www.mendolitfest.org/

I'm a bit nervous. What do I really know about publishing, other than it is a ton of work and if you're not passionate about that work you should let someone else do it? But I'll write more about LitFest in another post. For now, tonight, I am enjoying staring at Medusa's image from my very own website. Thank you, Rick.

Muse vs. Gravity

I am obsessively reading everything I can find about starting a small press and publishing in general. I began with Dan Poynter's book, "The Self Publishing Manual," moved on to "How to Start and Run and Small Book Publishing Company," bought "The Writers Legal Guide" and "Business and Legal Forms for Authors and Publishers," and have scanned "Book Design and Production," by Pete Masterson. Now I'm reading, "Publishing for Profit," by Thomas Woll. Plus I read blogs and websites and am subscribed to the Publish L list serve. From all these hours of research, I have discovered something extremely important; I know absolutely nothing about running a small business. This is important because that's what Medusa's Muse is. A business.

I am the owner of a small business. Yes, a creative, book oriented, dream filled business, but a business non the less, which means I need to learn about tax laws, licensing, book keeping and budgeting. If I don't understand basic business practices, Medusa won't survive, and I don't care how many books I print or publish. Medusa must live in the real world and the real world is governed by tax laws.

My muse hates all this mundane chatter and refuses to help me with this part of building the press. When I brought home "Small Business Kit for Dummies," complete with CD rom of necessary forms, she yawned and said, "I'll be outside."

I glared at her. "This press thing was your idea, remember."

"Yes. I know. All the good ideas are mine."

"Then you're also responsible for helping me with this part too."

She smiled a slow, crooked smile. "I don't think so."

"Why not?" I hate it when I whine.

"Because my dear, business laws are the construct of humans and we both know I'm not human. Therefor, I don't have to worry about that part." She tapped the over sized book in my arms. "When you're done with this, let me know. I'm getting hungry for something creative."

"You know, it's exactly this reason most artists live in abject poverty. If their muses stuck around to help with the finances, they could pay their electric bill."

"Muses don't need electricity," she called as she pulled off her blouse before walking outside.

I yelled, "Let's hear you say that when I can't turn on my lap-top."

The door shut softly behind her.

In my other life, I write grants. Therefore I understand just how important it is to have enough funding to support a great idea. As much as I dislike budgeting and paperwork, I know without a good business plan, there is no Medusa's Muse. It's like trying to live on Earth without gravity. I see too many incredibly talented artists falter because they believe solid business planning is unworthy of their time and energy. I refuse to be a victim of economics.

While studying my business book, I felt something brush against my ankle. Looking up at me was a green gilded snake. I picked it up and set it on my shoulder where it snuggled close against my collar bone, reading the book with me. My muse hasn't completely abandoned me after all.

The First Writer

A while back, my daughter's Orientation and Mobility teacher (more on what that is later) gave me a chapter from the memoir she's been writing about her 30 plus years teaching children with vision impairments. As I read it I became excited. Not only was the chapter about my own wonderful daughter, but this teacher could WRITE. The prose was beautiful, the rhythm and word choice excellent. A few days later, I told her how much I loved it and blurted out, "I'd love to publish it." I told her I was starting a small press with a friend and we were looking for a manuscript to launch and hers would be perfect and would she like to work with us because it would be great and I couldn't offer her an advance because, like I said, we were a start-up but I would do all the marketing and PR for her book which was what she'd be spending her advance on anyway, so wouldn't she like to publish with us and have more creative control and what do you think? She looked at me for a moment with her head tilted to the side as though trying to figure out if I were serious, or crazy. Then she said, "That sounds perfect." The idea of working with the mother of one of her students appealed to her, so she ran home, got the rest of her manuscript, and returned with 220 pages for me to read.

It was slow going. Yes, she could write, but she still needed to learn how to put a novel together. Some of the chapters were bogged down with beautiful, rambling prose, which brought the pacing to a halt. But the story itself was compelling, and the way she wrote about her students brought each individual child to vibrant life. These weren't stories about poor little crippled children. These children were unique, funny, cantankerous, exuberant, challenging, kind and REAL humans who just happened to be blind. After reading the entire book, I was more certain I needed to publish it.

The author is rewriting it after I gave her feedback and agrees with my comments. She is as hungry to see her book in print as I am to help make that happen. And once it's closer to her vision and a strong manuscript, we will work out the contract. For now, the revision process feels like coaching and editing. I cheer her on, offer suggestions, try to decipher her metaphors, and constantly ask if this is the book she wants to write. Is this the best work she can do? I love watching her book evolve, as much as writing my own. We talk about structure, scenes, dialogue, what the title should be and what kinds of ideas we have for the cover design.

I love this work! My partner is as excited as I. As soon as the author has the structure of the novel worked out, she'll send it to my partner, the Queen of Polish. This woman is a grammar and spelling guru. After that, we create the book itself. The cover, interior, font, and price. Which means I'd better figure out how to do that.

Why Medusa's Muse?

Why Medusa's Muse? My Muse asks me that question. I think she's a little offended by the implication, like I'm not appreciative of her presence, or maybe I think she's evil. I remind her that she does have snakes in her hair, to which she replies, "Everyone needs a pet. They don't mean anything." Then she wraps them securely on top of her head with an emerald pin, impaling one through the throat.

I'll try to explain. Medusa's Muse is that problem that immobilizes you. Your greatest fear, your most painful defeat, crashing into your life and making you fall. You don't know how you're going to deal with it, but somehow, despite the grief or rage, you find a way. And not only do you handle it, but you transform it. The event or person which almost destroyed you becomes the defining moment in your life and tells you who you are. You looked Medusa square in the eye and she blinked. You weren't turned to stone, not completely. Maybe parts of you were immobilized for a brief time, but your heart never stopped beating. That's the secret of Medusa. If you look her directly in her eyes, she will be the one to falter. The stories say you will die, but the heroes who do are the ones too afraid to meet the monster's gaze. They looked into her face, too afraid to look into her eyes, so they perished. Lock eyes with her. She'll startle, and blink, and then you'll be free. Not only free, but powerful.

I want to publish stories about people who faced their demons and survived. Not sensational murder and mayhem stories, but stories about real people who are able to transform pain and defeat into something joyful, and in so doing, change the world for the better.

My Muse kisses the top of my head. "I like it. When do we get started?"

I am a Publisher

I'm actually doing it. Calling myself a publisher. How daring! How arrogant, even. Me, a publisher? Publishers are those elusive people who breath life into your manuscript and make it sing into the world, bright and shining. They hold the key to bringing you validation as a writer. I am not one of those people. Or am I?

The more I read the more I understand that the literary world is not owned by Random House. Publishers are people. And in this day of computers and the Internet, it is possible to publish a book yourself. Not easy... but possible.

I filed my domain name, calling my press, what else... Medusa's Muse. I'm setting up shop in my bedroom with my computer and several books on publishing, plus spending hours on the Internet researching and reading about other small presses. And I've been pondering what kind of publisher I want to be. What kind of books do I want to bring to life?

I am now seeking a book to publish, deciding not to publish my own. I write fiction and I can't publish fiction right now. As a fledgling, start up, one woman press, I have to find books that can pay for themselves. I know I won't get rich doing this, but I have to be able to pay the printing bill, so for the time being, I'm staying away from fiction. Someday I hope Medusa will be stable enough to support fiction.

My muse is extremely happy, so much so she's returned to being female. "It was fun being a boy," she says. "But we have a bigger challenge now." She gathers up her snakes from the corners of my room and they slither back into her glittering hair, contained. For now. She likes it when I listen to her.

Okay, maybe this time she was right.

When Muses get bored

Lately I've been hearing whispers from my Muse, gentle pushes toward one thought: Create a small press. I laugh and shrug them off, but the idea won't leave me alone. It has wrapped itself around my ankles like the snakes my Muse set loose in my room, compelling me to pick up a book and read about small presses. Peruse the Internet for blogs about publishing and web-sites of small press organizations. Just checking things out, I say. I'm not serious. It's always good to learn new things. My Muse smiles and coaxes another snake to climb up my spine. Come on, what's stopping you? Afraid? No, practical. Publishing is a whole art in itself and I am but a poor writer who can't get published. Sounds like desperation to me. But the thought won't leave me alone. My Muse is surprisingly tender, encouraging me to learn more. I'm not saying you should publish your own work. I honestly think you would be an excellent publisher. Now I know he's up to something because my Muse is never this nice to me.

I find him lounging on my bed reading a book.
"Why do you suddenly want to be a publisher?"
He slowly closes his novel and looks at me with sleepy eyes, "Because you're wasting your talents."
"Wasting? I'm a writer! A good writer! I'm wasting nothing!"
"I didn't say you weren't a good a writer. I said you have other talents which are going to waste." He rolled off my bed gracefully and stood close to me. "You're better at editing and helping people tell a story than you realize. You're also organized, intelligent, and love a good challenge. What's more challenging than opening a small press?"
"Climbing Everest while blind-folded."
"Exactly." He leaned over, picked up a snake, and wrapped it around my shoulders like a shawl. "Think of the possibilities."
"You know, you're not really Viggo. You just look like him."
"I know."
"Just because he has a press doesn't mean you should have one too."
"I know."
"You're being too nice to me. What are you up to?"
Grinning, He tapped my cheek with one long fingernail. "I'm encouraging you. Isn't that what you want?"
"Yes, but you're never encouraging."
"Time for a change." He walked slowly out the bedroom door and called to me, "Yes. It is time for a change."
The snake wrapped itself around my left arm. I stroked it softly and began to wonder again. What if?

After the panic

We finished the play and it's not bad. Could use more polish and I hate the end, but overall it's a good start and I get to turn something in to my class. But as I was writing, I had a one of those frightening thoughts that make your skin tighten and tingle.

I hit "print." My muse, who was leaning over my shoulder to watch, smiled, stood up tall and stretched lazily with his arms over his head. I kept staring at my lap top screen, feeling colder by the second.

"What happened to the snakes?"

He slowly stepped beside me and leaned against the desk to see my face. "Snakes?"

"The ones that were in your hair?"

My muse nodded while he stared at the screen. One finger tapped the desk top. Then silence. I waited.

"They're in your room," he said.

Panic Play

I ran into the back yard and screamed at my muse,"Quick! I have to write a ten minute play and it's due in two days." Then I stopped and stared. My muse sat in the same lawn chair she'd been glued to for the past two months gulping down red wine and smoking so many cigarettes the butts were piled around her like sand dunes. She looked up at me and blinked, her eyes shining dully out of her blackened, sunburned face.
"Oh my God." I whispered.
"What?" she croaked. Her lips cracked and she glared at me.
"Um, nothing. Just... how long have you been out here?"
"How long have you been wasting time surfing the internet and watching 'Rosanne' re-runs?"
She lit another cigarette and the flame from it's tip glowed so hot I was afraid she would combust. Her entire body was blackened and creased, as if she'd dipped herself into hot mud. She really did look like a burnt marshmallow. There is no better way to describe her.
"Yeah, right." I walked toward her, forcing bravery. "Anyway. I have to write a play and I need your help."
"What kind of play?"
"I don't know yet. That's why I need you."
She stretched slowly and I cringed as tiny particles of her skin sluffed off. "So now you need me."
I glanced at the hose. Maybe spraying her with water would help keep her from bursting into flame?
She put out her cigarette against the lawn chair. "When's it due?"
"Friday."
"This Friday?"
"Yeah."
She suddenly jumped up and a large piece of skin from her thigh peeled off like tissue paper. "That's two days away!"
"I know. That's what I said. So I was wondering..."
"Why'd you wait so long?"
"I lost track of time."
"That's ridiculous! You never would have allowed this to happen before! I can't believe you've waited until the last minute!" She quickly peeled off more skin as she talked. "Is your lap top ready?"
"Yeah. The battery's charged and I started the program."
"Excellent. You know how I hate to wait for the technology." Rubbing her skin hard with her hands, she said, "Stand back."
I almost jumped back onto the deck as she began to rub and shake furiously, letting pieces of dried, black skin fly all around her until the flakes were as high as her ankles. She leaned over and rubbed her hair until it too fell on the lawn. When she stood, I was even more amazed than when I first came outside. Standing in front of me, glowing pink and nude, was Viggo Mortenson.
"Wow," I whispered. "What happened?"
My muse shrugged. "I haven't been a man in a while. I figured it was time."
"Why Viggo?"
"You like him don't you?" He smiled slowly and I blushed.
"Yeah. Sure. He's cool."
My muse walked toward me, his eyes penetrating mine. "And he's mulit-talented. He can act, sing, write and paint. He's politically active and doesn't take crap from anyone. So he's perfect for me. Don't you think?"
I felt frightened by the sheer power of my naked, Viggo Mortenson muse. This was going to be hard to emulate. "You look great."
He smiled. "Yeah. I do. I like being a boy." He scratched his balls.
I held up a hand. "That's enough. Get some clothes on. There's only so much boy I can take."
"Lead the way." As we walked back into the house, he said, "What's this play about."
"I have no idea."
"Let me get some pants on and we'll see what I come up with. It's a good thing you have me. Do we have anymore wine?"