First on my block...

  “Be the first…” 

I didn’t want to win this contest. It’s not “Be the first kid on your block to have sea monkeys!”

Being the first of my friends to hang a handicap permit did not carry a sense of excitement, but shame. Somehow I hadn’t cared well for the right leg. Ridiculous, I know.

Prior to the parking advantage, my husband accompanied me to a large department store. I knew I’d need him to provide physical support on my right side while I used my cane on the left. We joked about how pitiful I looked when young employees passed us and said, “You two are so cute. Thanks for shopping with us.”

Cute? Lurching across the parking lot at one-quarter of my former speed was not cute. At that moment I coveted a parking space close to the store.

I’d resisted asking my doctor to approve the application required by the DMV because I wouldn’t accept that I’m old enough, or semi-able, and needed the accommodation. When a friend suggested it, I knew it was time. 

I only went inside a drugstore if I needed a life saving prescription. For non-essentials I ordered online and personnel delivered to the car.  

Now the hurdles between parking and front doors are fewer. I’ll expand my outings to an occasional trip to TJMaxx. I can go to a Starbucks inside a grocery store. Getting inside the building won’t be the hardest part of an appointment. The walk from parking to Trader Joe’s won’t be three times the distance of the actual shopping.

Aging tends to restrict lives in unwanted ways. It's easier to give-in to a difficulty than find a way around it. The blue hanging tag is an adaptation which I will appreciate, yet hope to relinquish. 

Self-Publishing: What I Learned, What I Earned

 I’ve learned some things since Whose Fool appeared on Amazon two months ago. It launched with barely a ripple. Then sales sank. I’d read enough to expect low numbers without a marketing campaign, and that most independently published books sold less than 1000 copies. I can tell you that despite the loyal support of friends I vastly underperformed. 

However I don’t count that a failure because sales are only one measure of success. I finished a project I’d begun years earlier. Re-writing and editing ad nauseam stretched my self-discipline. My husband had asked me to finish our story, and it honored him to do so. I count it a labor of love and conviction. 

In return, you readers gave me positive strokes. One said “I didn’t know you were such a good writer.” Our pastor said it was a whirlwind ride, which I took to mean the book was engaging. 

With respect and surprise my grandson said “You are on Amazon?” For a moment, I earned cachet with him. 

Many people wanted me to sign their copies. The requests affirmed me but I didn’t understand why they wanted my little personalized notes. I’m not famous, and not gonna be. 

Remember, my goal is for you fans to give the book away to someone else. So tear out the title page I signed, or buy another copy to pass along to a front yard little library, leave at the laundromat, or give to the friend you thinks you’re a fool because you are a Christian. 

The two book clubs I addressed had lots of questions, and I enjoyed extending the conversation deeper into the book’s theme, discussing ignorance, vulnerability and faith.

The Read-A-Lattes

One friend made me laugh when she said “I’ve made some bad choices in my life, but not as bad as yours.”  We could get t-shirts, one saying “Bad” the other stating “Worse.”

I’d be a fool again to count the writing, editing, and publishing process a fruitless endeavor because I hope that someone will be encouraged to depend on Jesus and have their poor choices transformed. 

What did I earn? Amazon charges the author a printing cost per book, and takes a 40% cut. Kindle takes a larger cut because the cost per book is less. 

I could turn it into a facetious formula such as 

(Your book club members -2) + (other friends divided by 3)=number of books sold.

It sure wasn’t a money maker, but covered nearly 50% of the preparation costs.

Some fans have gone so far as to encourage me to publish others work. But I’d be a fool to gamble another thousand hours crafting a novel without a conventional publisher or professional marketer. If you know a whiz kid marketing major, send me her number, because I have characters I’d like you to meet, and whose stories I’d like you to enjoy. 

Thank you for your smiles, hugs, questions, and recognizing that Bill and I are not the people we were.