Post #88 – Women’s Memoirs, Book Business – Kendra Bonnett and Matilda Butler
[BOOK GIVEAWAY: Keep reading for information on how to enter to get an opportunity win a free copy of A Cluttered Life: Searching for God, Serenity, and My Missing Keys
Memoir Writers and Clutter
This is the third week of our conversation with Pesi Dinnerstein. Two weeks ago, Pesi Dinnerstein wrote quite a funny article about clutter for us. If you missed it, be sure to check it out:
Meanwhile, we enjoyed our conversation with Pesi so much that we asked her to share with you her story of getting published and that became such a fascinating tale that we decided to bring it to you in two parts. Last week, she focused on getting her agent and a publisher. In today’s conclusion, she talks about the drama in writing the memoir and how the clutter of life kept getting in the way.
About the book GIVEAWAY. Pesi and her publisher, Seal Press, have generously donated a copy of her book to be given to the person with the best comment. Therefore, we invite you to recall a time of clutter (or unclutter) and share it with us in the Comment section below. Win us over with your comment. We’ll contact the winner via email.
You can get extra points if you go back and leave a Note about your clutter on Pesi’s two previous posts:
Be sure to tell us how clutter influences your life as a writer and whether you embrace it or try to stuff it in a closet. All your stories are welcome.
And now… let’s return to Pesi as she continues her saga of writing her memoir and her early marketing efforts.
PUBLISHING MY MEMOIR, PART 2
By Pesi Dinnerstein, author of A Cluttered Life: Searching for God, Serenity, and My Missing Keys
Now, here it was April, 2009, and I had just about everything a writer could want—an agent, a publisher, a room of my own, and even a small advance—everything but the belief that I could actually write a book. As a result, I was alternately filled with extreme joy and waves of overwhelming panic.
It was like every performance-anxiety dream I’d ever had. The table was set; the menu was planned; the guests were on their way—but I forgot to prepare the meal. The new semester was about to begin, and I showed up too late to register. Or the old semester was about to end, and I missed the final. I was getting married, but I couldn’t find my dress and got lost on the way to the wedding . . . .
Part of the stress of writing this book was that I felt I was trying to jump on a train that was already speeding down the track. Timing, of course, is everything—and my timing was off from the very beginning. The whole process started six months before I was ready, and I remained six months behind schedule every step of the way—right up to this very moment.
If I had it all to do over again, I would have tried to complete the entire book before I ever showed it to anyone. Of course, that was not really possible in my case, and I might never have gotten an agent—let alone a publisher—if I had moved forward at such a pace. Nevertheless, the challenge of trying to be focused and insightful while doing battle with oppressive deadlines hardly created the state of calm in which I had hoped to write my first book.
There’s an old Yiddish expression (which sounds much better in Yiddish because it rhymes) that basically translates as “Man plans, and God laughs.” Well, all I can say about my book-writing experience is that I did a lot of planning, and God, it seems, had quite a good chuckle.
The problem, I think, is that I was not simply writing a book on the topic of clutter; I was trying to explore my own personal struggle with it. And that struggle continued every step of the way throughout the entire writing process. As I explain in the book, the issue is not just that I pursue clutter, but that clutter seems to pursue me. The type of events that create chaos in a person’s life (unexpected moves, natural disasters, plumbing mishaps) tend to visit me with uncommon frequency. And during this particular year, I had quite a bumper crop.
Beginning with my upstairs neighbor’s toilet overflowing into my bathroom, followed by a house-wide flood of my own from a burst pipe, accompanied by toxic mold and mildew, all of which culminated in the need for a virtual renovation of my entire condo . . . well, it was quite a year. And I was constantly having to explain to my editor that I was missing this deadline and that because I was too busy living the book to write it.
In the end, I had to ask for a six-month extension—which Seal Press very graciously agreed to give me—and, even then, I turned in my manuscript in the final moments of the eleventh hour on the very last day before my editor left for her summer vacation. As I say in the Epilogue, I wrote the book pretty much the way I live my life—with one hand hard at work on the task and the other trying to fend off all the distractions and minor catastrophes that came my way during the process.
Aside from all that, however, it was quite an amazing year and a half. On the rare occasions when I had the opportunity to write without interruption, I frequently found myself experiencing what I can only describe as a writer’s high. At those special moments, the words flowed almost effortlessly, and the story seemed to be carried forward on its own wings. Of course, those moments were followed by many hours of staring at a blank screen and waiting for the next sentence to come, as well as many, many hours of editing—far more hours editing, in fact, than writing—but, during this time, even the normally tedious work of revising and rewriting had a certain sweetness to it.
Seal Press is a wonderful publishing company to work with. Not only are all their books “by women and for women,” but the entire division seems to be run by women—and not just any women, but those who truly understand and value the art of writing.
In general, they gave me a great deal of freedom. Even the copyeditor merely made suggestions which, in the end, I was free to either accept or reject. No editorial decisions were imposed upon me, and the biggest change she recommended—which turned out to be a great improvement—was to make my sixty five(!) chapters into nine, with section breaks where the original chapters had been.
The only minor disagreements I had with my editor were over the title and the cover. The book was originally called The Kabbalah of Clutter. When I first started writing it, Kabbalah was a hot subject in the secular world (thanks, in part, to Madonna); but, as time went on, it was not in the public eye quite as much. The marketing people felt that the title might limit the audience and, therefore, wanted to change it. That was fine with me, but we couldn’t seem to come up with an alternative that we all liked.
The title that they wanted was I’m in Here Somewhere, which, quite frankly, I hated. It said nothing about clutter or spirituality—the two main themes of the book. We went back and forth for quite a while over this, until finally, not wanting to appear uncooperative, I agreed. Then, I immediately regretted it. This was, after all, my memoir, and I wanted to love its name—or, at least, not hate it. So, I told my editor that I just didn’t feel comfortable going forward with that title. Now, no one knew what to do. I didn’t like their suggestions, and they didn’t like mine.
While we were trying to figure out where to go from here, I found myself feeling more and more uncomfortable. I really didn’t want to create a problem for my editor, but I also didn’t want to have my life summed up by a title that, at the very least, felt inaccurate. So, I spent an entire day doing what I usually do when I feel overwhelmed by stress—I kept losing my keys.
Every time I turned around, I misplaced either my house keys or my car keys or the keys to my storage unit. By the end of the day, I must have lost (and thankfully found) my keys at least half a dozen times. And that’s when the title came to me: A Cluttered Life: Searching for God, Serenity, and My Missing Keys. It combined what I wanted my life to be about (God and serenity) with what it was usually about instead (looking for my missing keys—or whatever else I had managed to lose that day).
I loved it, and—surprisingly—so did everyone else. In the end, we all breathed a collective sigh of relief and moved on to the next issue.
Problem Number Two was the cover for my memoir. We couldn’t seem to agree on that either. The one that everyone loved, I again strongly disliked. I’m generally not fond of sharp lines and bold colors, and this cover had bright yellow stripes all over it, each emanating from a key ring in the middle. My friend said it nearly gave her vertigo, and I felt the same way. But that meant another incident in which I was in conflict with the group. Nevertheless, I just couldn’t go with it, and—much to the publisher’s credit, they didn’t force it upon me. In the end, they came up with the current design, which everyone seemed to feel was, by far, the best.
Had I not followed my own feelings—which came very close to happening—I would have been left with both a title and a cover that I really couldn’t relate to. Instead, I tried to listen to myself as well as to my editor; and, in the end, I think that everyone was genuinely happy with the results.
The biggest challenge of all, however, was probably my insatiable desire to edit my own writing. Because I had written the book under so much pressure, when the publisher sent it back to me for review, I found hundreds of things to change. The copyeditor, as I mentioned, suggested very few alterations; but I myself came up with many more. And when they sent the manuscript back a second time, I found a few hundred more little things to change. A word here, a phrase there, a few paragraphs to add and delete—it all mounted up pretty quickly.
Now, part of this was due to the fact that I hadn’t had time to properly edit what I wrote before I submitted it. But the other part is that I am a clutterer, and it kind of goes with the territory that we always want to leave the door open for just a bit more. Finality has a very harsh ring to it, and I found it extremely difficult to let go and say that the book was actually finished—the ultimate commitment, set in stone!
Of course, at some point, I had no choice. But, even as I was printing my final copies for overnight express at UPS, I was still trying to squeeze in a few more little changes here and there.
However, in spite of myself, the book was finally sent to the printer in May of 2011, and that was that. I’m almost afraid to read it now because I’ll probably find a few dozen more things I wish I had changed. Well, maybe in the second printing . . . .
Now came the moment for which I was truly the least prepared. The writing was done, the book was soon to be released, and I felt like a free woman at last. Just as I was trying to decide whether to open a bottle of champagne, take a luxurious bath, or start tackling the enormous mess that had piled up over the past year and a half, an email arrived from Seal Press—Congratulations! And now it’s time to get busy selling that book!
I recall once reading a comment an author made to the effect that “writing a book is the easiest part of writing a book.” I was now about to discover just what he meant.
Writing—for all its formidable challenges and complications—is, at heart, a deeply meaningful experience. Marketing, on the other hand, is simply a business; and many artists do not have the ability or the desire to engage in that business. While selling ourselves and our books might be exciting to some, none of the writers I know consider it their activity of choice.
[If you prefer the Kindle version, please use the link to the left.]
Aside from my general aversion to self-promotion, I had a number of other obstacles as well: (1) I find social networking thoroughly unappealing. Unfortunately, it’s considered an essential instrument for promoting a book these days. Still, Facebook, Twitter, LinkedIn, and whatever else is out there scare me. I feel as if I’m opening the door to a whole new source of unwanted clutter; (2) I’m easily intimidated by public speaking. Although I taught in a community college for many years, I find that speaking to a group of strangers (or, worse yet, friends!) is a very uncomfortable experience for me; (3) I can’t travel too far because in addition to my own fear of flying, I care for my elderly mother and not-so-well husband, neither of whom can be left alone for very long; (4) My life is too cluttered for another project; (5) My computer skills are too limited for networking; and (6) The whole subject gives me a headache.
On the other hand, I did want to sell books. So, in the end, I tried to push the walls as far as I could. I agreed to speak at a few local events (a bookstore, a women’s group, an annual public library event) and even did a long-distance radio interview. With each talk, I have to admit that it became a bit easier, but it’s still not much fun. Nevertheless, I plan to keep trying. South Florida has many opportunities for local publicity; and even in my own little world here, I could probably do a lot more than I have.
Both my publicist and I sent out emails announcing the release of the book, and that resulted in a number of reviews, with more still pending. Many of the people we wrote to were connected to groups and publications I found searching the Internet. Even with my very minimal skills, I was able to stumble around and find some pretty interesting sites. However, we barely scratched the surface here, and I’m hoping to send out another wave of emails to let people know that the book exists. I also haven’t really had the time to follow up, but I can see from the few people I did contact a second time, just how valuable this part of the process is.
Another relatively easy thing I did was to join a number of writers’ associations, both local and national. Since they’re always happy to announce the accomplishments and appearances of their members, this provided free publicity as well as an opportunity to connect with other writers.
I’ve also written a few articles for magazines and online publications, hoping that the announcement of my new book at the end of the article will generate a little buzz.
But the single best thing I did in terms of publicity was connecting with WOW! (Women on Writing)—which is how I found Matilda and all of you who are reading this. Their blog tour (the electronic equivalent of a book tour) connected me to many people who are interested in the type of book I’ve written. Without ever leaving my house, I wrote guest posts for fifteen different blog sites. Robyn Chausse was my personal guide, and I cannot say enough wonderful things about her. She was there for me every step of the way and chose the most appropriate and well-read blogs for my tour.
In general, though, I’ve relied mostly on friends and word of mouth to get things moving. And although it’s my favorite method, it’s probably not the most effective.
Of course, as I said earlier, I’m still a good six months behind schedule. And it’s only now—six months to the day since the book was released—that I’m really beginning to get serious about the publicity. I have many things to follow up on and many that I haven’t even begun to explore yet—book clubs and local women’s groups being high on my list of new possibilities. But all of that is the subject for another day and another blog.
For now, I’m going to finally drink that glass of champagne and take that bath. And maybe tomorrow I’ll start thinking about how to sell all those books.
And please do leave a Comment below. We’d love to hear your story of clutter or declutter. We are eager to hear from the memoir writer’s point of view what clutter means in your life. Leave a Comment and you have a chance to win a copy of Pesi Dinnerstein’s memoir.
