It's a writer's conference, cry me a river

Day One.
I give my elevator pitch to Fellow Writer A, a woman. She says, “Oooo, nice.”

I gain confidence and give my elevator pitch to First Agent. She nods, appears interested. I give very brief summary of story. When I get to the part where ex-husband shows up as female protagonist’s new boss the agent stops me.

“No. That is too much of a coincidence for me.” I explain how the plot line makes it plausible. “No,” she smiles, “He would already know who the employees are in a business he is buying.” I tell her the story does not make that clear, whether he knows she’s there or not, it is not a story point. “No,” she repeats still smiling, pulls out a pocket dagger, swings it in front of my eyes for emphasis and details further, “I can’t find anything likeable about your female character.”

Nothing? The glint of the steel flashes and I sit back in my seat. I swing my head toward the exit and try to judge how far away I am.

“I like books with very strong female protagonists. Rethink your pitch, recast it in a way that describes the genre, what and why—why would she marry him?” She says things like explain plot device and ends with, “I have a disdain for characters who get themselves into a fix.” She stabs the dagger into the table top for emphasis.

I am in a fix. She has disdain for me.

Rewrite the story? I can’t just make something up.

Oh, right, I made it all up.

It sucks. I suck.

I my lips pull into a wavering smile and I thank her for her time.


Day Two, Morning.
I give my elevator pitch to Fellow Writer B, a man, “Wow, I’m intrigued.”

Second Agent says, “Pitch me.” I give same elevator pitch. She stops me. “If she’s learned not to depend, why does she?” I explain the circumstances that make it plausible. She asks, “Is this you?”

“No. why do you ask? Does it sound like it happened to me?”

“No, but if it had happened to you, I would ask why you married this guy and tell you to turn it into a memoir.”

I wonder briefly if I can find and marry Jae-Chun Lee. I must discard this thought, after all, he is already married and...and...he is fiction.

I realize I am insane.

My plot is insane.


Day Two, Lunch.
I decide I will not share agent feedback with my critique group, because one of them will tell me that such-and-so always bothered them, too, and I will quit, actually quit writing because…

I’ll give them a good excuse, as soon as I write one that does not suck and sound insane.


Day Two, Afternoon.
I am thirsty. I leave my volunteer station in the agent consult area and grab a seltzer water can out of my car. I slip back into the banquet room and glide past an agent twiddling thumbs on a break.

The Agent grabs my arm and asks,“Where did you find the sparkling water?” I size the situation up. I hesitate. I do not snap the metal circle-tab. “You will be my new best friend,” she declares, “if you divulge your source.”

I hand her my can.

“No, I can't take your water,” she says, and struggles to maintain her composure. She’s likely very thirsty after telling all the writers how much they suck. She swallows and chomps down on the inside of her cheek.

“My treat,” I say. “I have a whole case in the car.”

She looks doubtful. I plant the can on her table. She relents. Her shaky hand reaches out. Her fingers close around the metal cylinder, red-glazed fingernails flick at the ring-top. It pops open and the water gasps, sparkling and plinking of Northwest freshness. She takes a long draw.

“You owe me a pitch,” I suggest, and it doesn't sound like I’m kidding. I mentally check my internal resources and steel myself for rejection.

“Send me your stuff,” she answers, “No,” she decides, after taking another gulp. She wipes her mouth with the back of her sleeve. “Send me your entire manuscript.” She scribbles her email on a scrap of paper.

I realize my value is measured in the drinks I keep in my car.

Later that evening, I wonder if it is required to cry everyday of a writer’s conference, and realize I do not suck at everything.

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Celebrities who've met ME! Meet Luke Ryan, Vice President at MGM

I met Luke Ryan in 2008 at the Willamette Writers Conference. This year we ran into each other at the same conference and reminisced about that magical moment when our paths first crossed....

Mr. Ryan exited the agent pitch area and ambled straight toward me. I manned the 'please leave your comments here' volunteer post. I started a friendly conversation, how's it going, what do you do. He said he did film. I said...

"Oh-oh-oh! Are you looking for a project with an Asian man married to a Caucasian woman?!"

He gazed off into the distance giving proper thought to contemplating my query. He re-focused, took in my expectant face, looked me solidly in the eye, and uttered, "No."

"Honesty. That I like." I said, and smiled sheepishly. Wanting to finish on a more positive note, I asked, "Where are you from?"

He broke a smile and murmured the sweet word, "Hollywood."

"The only person I know in Hollywood is Ed Schofield," I chattered. "He did some work for Spielberg."

"I've heard of him," he mused.

"Really, wow, that makes me feel good," I responded.

He gave me a sideways glance then laughed. Yeah, there's more than one idiot at writers' conferences.

The next day he was the luncheon speaker. The emcee announced him as a Vice President at MGM, with much heralded experience including executive producer credits of Harold & Kumar Go to White Castle, a movie that actually starred an Asian, Korean actor John Cho.

I've thought about watching the movie Ryan produced, but I can't get excited about it. I think our tastes run in opposite direction, avoiding odd people for him, awkward moments for me.

---

This year I attended one of Luke Ryan's classes. He's a kickass, entertaining teacher and extremely generous with his time with the conference and writers.

Here's a shout out to Luke Ryan who shared the main points of writing a detective film and a thriller and as soon as I find my notes I'll share them on the blog.

In the meantime, wishing you much success! Oh, and besides that animation stuff for Spielberg, Schofield also had a small part in a Gary Shandling movie. Now, that would be embarrassing

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Enter to WIN. Ooo, Ooo, Ooligan Part I

I'm giving away two copies of an Ooligan Press mini-book, RETHINKING PAPER & INK regarding sustainability in publishing. Mention 'enter me to win' in the comments section to participate. Drawing to be held at end of month.


Dennis Stovall, Assistant Professor of English and Coordinator of Publishing Curriculum at Portland State University in Oregon, has too long a title. That was the only negative of the first hour and a half he spent with me (from my perspective). He met me at the Write to Publish Conference organized by Ooligan Press. I’d just finished checking in, signed my debit card receipt, noticed engineering student Flake had left the amount blank, thrust a finger in his chest and demanded, “Fill it in.” I’m exaggerating. I was nice, but he continued to mess up and processed incorrect card verification code which created a small stir when the box office had to track me down in the afternoon for ‘re-processing.’ I have no idea why everyone gets sidetracked when I appear.

Professor Stovall is a friendly guy, walked right up and asked if he could help us find our desired session. I hadn’t chosen anything—and thrown off guard by someone just as friendly as me—regarded him suspiciously. He smiled, we exchanged formalities, and once I figured out who he was (my friend Eliza whispered his department position and warned “Behave!”) I stated, “I’m following you!”

Hang out with the top guys I always say. I wagged my tail like a puppy and padded after Stovall to Classroom B.

“Are you a writer?” he asked.

“Not a real writer,” I sighed, then brightened, “Wait a minute, I am! I am published in a book. I’ve got a whole chapter, or at least part of one, can’t remember. It’s a book called Laughing Nine to Five: Humor in the Workplace.”

That’s when he brightened, “I designed that book.” We high-fived over the twenty people who had purchased it.

Now that I was elevated in his eyes, due to my collaborative published work, it was his turn to impress me. I took a seat, pulled out my laptop, quirked an eyebrow as fingers hovered over the keys. I was here to learn the business. Isn’t that what all the literary agents’ blogs stress, learn the business? Bring it on, baby, for six hours I’m a student of publishing.


Ooligan, a teaching press

Stovall’s perspective comes from a unique position: author, educator, publisher. He runs Portland State’s publishing program and press. It is unique in the world. Similar curriculum exist elsewhere, you can find it in four other schools, but other universities are not willing to turn everything over to the students. At PSU hierarchy is practically vanquished, students are colleagues of professors, and separation of classroom and press a mere nuance of proximity.

The PSU’s masters in publishing program produces a high level of participation and extraordinary student commitment, and despite budget cuts in all areas of education, this program is not suffering. It’s self-supporting. The grad students learn the art and craft of publishing by, well, publishing books! Book revenues underwrite a portion of their funding.

Ooligan Press is the general trade press where the students apprentice. They chose manuscripts carefully, and their 2008/2009 catalogue offers 21 titles featuring Pacific Northwest writers and works which honor the cultural and natural diversity of the region.

Part of my interest in Ooligan was their prior interest in me. A Willamette Writers encounter with a student holding pitch sessions resulted in a request for my first four chapters. At the time, I realized it wasn’t a good fit, but it felt good, and I lived on that encouragement for months. In retrospect, I can admit my query was about 10 months premature. Today, I’m a better writer, better educated, and better armed to do battle with publishing, and Stovall filled in the gaps.

He got right down to the stats.


Espresso Publishing

Last year 560,000 new titles were published in the United States, up from the year 2002 which only saw 120,000. “That enormous increase runs at a rate of 70 books an hour, but that doesn’t mean that all those books even ought to have been published,” Stovall said. The advent of very inexpensive self publishing, POD (print on demand), and espresso book machines have allowed authors to rush their work to the marketplace without thorough vetting via professional editing serivces. “For the first time, the addition of e-books and digital books surpassed traditionally printed books. If we don’t include stats on these forms of publishing we will be misled. The trajectory they point to, may give us the direction of the future.”


I’d never heard of a book vending machine, and I am fascinated by the notion. I can imagine The First Carol running a small, highly lucrative bookstore, small as in closet-sized, low rent, pushing buttons and popping out books by request. According to what I saw on You Tube, it’s within the realm of possibilities for the book seller, but really I’m more interested in writing.

What does self-publishing mean to an author? A money drain and no book review according to Dennis Stovall. “It’s estimated self-published writers can expect in the range of 10-20 copies sold during the life of their book.” That’s the total for all time, and for those twenty sold copies thousands of dollars are being spent to have that book in hand, but with no hope of a book review. “Nationally, we’re down to only a handful of professional reviewers,” Stovall said, “We don’t have enough to even look at them. Virtual marketing on Twitter and Facebook has assumed much of the role of the professionals, and today, the public is regarding the casual review of readers on Amazon, for example, more heavily than reviews of professional reviewers.”

Devote a career to learning the craft of reviewing literature only to be usurped by the overindulged, over net-worked, over-opinionated public. Hm, can't beat 'em join 'em? Just a thought.


Tax laws, back lists and the right of return

Not only has the system of reviewing morphed, but so has the entire system of publishing. A publisher’s back list used to represented their gold mine and how they sustained the press. But tax decisions of the late 60-70’s affected how manufacturers handled obsolete inventory. The new laws made publishers abandon much of their backlist; they couldn’t afford to keep it in inventory. Books now needed to sell quickly, warehousing was no longer affordable. Prior to these tax laws, a publisher could invest in an author with a long term view, banking on receiving a payback by the fifth or sixth book. Waiting to discover what the author would develop in six years was a time and expense luxury no longer affordable. Unsold books become remainders. Remainders ended up in discount outlets (which pay nothing to the author) and came to represent that the publisher had given up on the book.

The ‘right of return,’ in place since the great depression and originally intended to allow a smaller bookseller to try and find the correct mix of books for their store, allowed unsold inventory to be returned to the publisher for a credit. “You could try them out and send them back to that publisher if they didn’t sell,” Stovall stated. The publisher was only required to offer new books, not a cash refund.

That altered in the 70-80’s when superstores came to dominate. Publishers found themselves with returns coming in from huge corporations powerful enough to control the conditions. The big players dictated books could be returned at any time—no matter the condition—and still earn a full refund. In cash. Not a replacement.

Under the dominance of the big guys collegiality disappeared. Money woos and publishers fell under the spell of the mega-store influence. “As that shift took place we began to see publishers making accommodations to the new markets and no longer printing books that their marketing department did not agree with; they were overwhelming being driven by the marketing potential of a book.”

The industry, in great turmoil, cut loose a lot of authors...

• Will the mega stores continue to demolish collegiality in publishing?



• Will abandoned authors shake themselves loose of publishing or use their creativity to develop new strategies to stay in print?



• Will self-published authors ever learn the value of professional editing?



• Will The First Carol be courageous enough to re-pitch her manuscript to Ooligan Press?

Stay tuned. Dennis Stovall’s lecture and more from Ooligan’s Write to Publish conference continues throughout the week. Remember to note in comments your entry to win the free book.

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Write better faster

The world is full of interesting people. Some of the best have met ME!

Laura Whitcomb encountered me at a Willamette Writers event. I was an attendee, she was the featured speaker. I entered excited for our encounter. She smiled and posed for a picture and probably laughed after I disappeared into the crowd. Some people are not sure what to make of me, including me sometimes, but I’ve found a smile and intelligent banter can get you just about anything, including working up your own courage. Hah!

Whitcomb opened the evening lecture, Diving into the Fetch, by noting she completed twenty novels and novellas before selling her first book, A Certain Slant of Light. She went on to co-author a second, a non-fiction work with Ann Rittenberg, Your First Novel: An Author Agent Team Share the Keys to Achieving Your Dream, which published a year later.

How do you find such good fortune? As I said in the prior post, First Friday is for Friends: “You work hard, you mix it up, and you get lucky.” Remember, the luck comes when you’re working hard. Oh, and creating a good relationship with your agent has its perks, too. In a follow up email Whitcomb corrected an error I had made on which of her books sold on a synopsis and writing sample. She noted, “Your First Novel was already a deal Writers Digest had set up with my agent and she chose me to write it with her. She already had a great platform, being a hot lit agent, and she got her top client, Dennis Lehane, to write the forward. I'm sure I wouldn't have been able to get such a cool gig on my own with only one novel under by belt at the that point.”

She is modest in her self assessment. Dedication to her writing craft continues to produce publishing success in even doses. The Fetch sold on a sample and a synopsis. That almost seems unfair when you consider the hordes of writers who slave over queries, only to be turned down due to weak sentence structure, misuse of adverbs, and vagaries of the market, but what the hay, let’s celebrate someone’s good fortune, maybe it will rub off. And remember, there's twenty books under her book-belt before one saw print. At the end of the day, good writing sells good books, and I'll figure out a proper query letter, eventually.

Whitcomb’s success in finding a publisher made her giddy and sublimely willing to overlook the challenge to produce within the publishers dictated timelines. She stupidly (her word--not mine) said, “Yes! I can do this, because I’m so excited.” When the enthusiasm dust settled, she realized she had a limited number of weeks to deliver. She needed to come up with a way to get at a better draft faster. She needed the fourth or fifth draft the first time out. It was that fast part that drew the audience into hushed silence, including me. What? You can have a book in less than two-kazillion drafts? That got my attention.

As she developed her techniques for speed she ended up pitching another book. What? Write two books at the same time? “When you’re working on one project you daydream about doing something else,” she mused. That daydreaming part I totally understand.

WHITCOMB’S SHORTCUTS

Whitcomb highlighted her habits to us that evening, and the full detail is captured in her book, Novel Shortcuts.

Begin with a sense of wonder. All that matters is creating a sense of wonder for the reader, drawing them in to you and why you have to write the story.

Use story telling devices. Voice, point of view, and tone carry weight, but what makes the difference is the story telling device. “It’s okay to make up a device to serve your own purposes. It’s not like grammar that already has rules, or the hero’s journey with a logical path. It’s no rules, it’s all you. It’s the way you tell the story.” Whitcomb’s latest release, The Fetch is told as a knight’s tale. Unique perspectives can be a great device.

The cross hairs moment. Grasp the most important moment in your novel, the one that lies within the rifle sight. It’s not always the climax. Example: in The Dead Zone by Stephen King, the cross hairs moment does not lie in the action part, nor the end, but it’s when the idea is posed, what if you could go back in time and kill… Whitcomb noted, “In my ghost story, A Certain Slant of Light, two ghosts are borrowing teenagers’ bodies. The cross hairs moment is when they realize they’re going to have to give the bodies back.” Aim for the cross hairs moment in your book and understand the compelling reason for each chapter.

Shortcut to the scene. Whitcomb is a list maker. She makes a list of what to put into a scene, basically what needs to happen and what she thinks the dialog will be, then she writes for ten minutes full speed thinking only about emotions, senses, metaphors and similes she might like. Her work at this juncture focuses on the creative development rather than the structure. She prints out her list and 10-minute writing sprint and puts them next to her keyboard. “I was able to write scenes three times faster, almost exactly like the published book,” she reported. “It’s like a cheat sheet, but it’s not somebody else, all of that is you.” What? Almost exactly like published book? I should give up now, right? (Nah).

Balance: scene, summary, and reflection. Whitcomb found her balance by accident, and equated her AHA moment to watching her four-year-old nephew riding his two-wheeler with training wheels. Once the paired wheels came off, he had trouble turning without putting his foot on the ground. The moment he learned to use his balance, throw his weight from side-to-side to initiate the turn, he had his AHA moment. The revelation on his face at this discovery was a mirror of hers when she unearthed the balancing act in her writing, juggling scene, summary, and reflection. Stabilizing this trio is like riding without training wheels.

To explain scene-summary-reflection she described developing an emergency room scene. “You capture everything that is said (scene). You summarize people going home, their first night, first week, that takes a paragraph (summary). Or, you go directly from the emergency room and encounter the character thinking about death. Here the narrator ruminates or philosophizes (reflection).” She came to her balance with practice. “My first reaction as a young writer was to only write scenes, some are boring, because I should have had made them summaries.” (There's hope! Not everything in print is perfect).

Visual Aids. Have visual clues handy that communicate who your characters are and all the details you need to keep track of to weave into the story. “Sometimes it gets complicated, so draw yourself a map.” Whitcomb described her map, but for some things you had to be there, me trying to relay would get us both lost.

Stealing tricks from the best. Whitcomb assured, “It’s actually not stealing, because you’re not really taking material from anyone.” Doing this helped save her a lot of time rewriting tricky or difficult scenes, “Writing a really great entrance for a character, writing something to foreshadow before a climax, a scene that has mixed perception—what happens in the scene perceived one way by one character and completely different by the another, sex scenes.” Her technique is to read an author who excels at a particular specialty, pull their scene apart, and emulate it.

Let's start a list of great scenes to review to aid our writing. Leave the author, scene-type, and book example in the comments.

Don’t ignore Ghosts. “Ghosts are little thoughts that keep bugging you, even though they seem pointless and you keep pushing them away.” She mentioned items that float through her head, song lyrics, a scene from a play, and admonished, “Pay attention. The ghost is coming to you for a reason. There’s something in that seemingly irrelevant thought that is going to help in what you’re working on.” (This idea might also help slow you down before pulling the trigger on that not-ready-for-agent-review query).

Use Art. Allow art to get at the deeper emotion, the real core emotion that’s hidden under layers and layers. “Listening to music puts me in the mood of my current novel faster than anything else. True beautiful, memorable and strong, and preferably without lyrics.” Whitcomb creates mix tapes to jump start her writing. A favorite source are sound tracks from movies.

It stinks. What to do? Back track. Read the last sentence first. Is it bad? Keep reading backwards. If she hates the next to the last sentence she reads the next-next to the last sentence, until, “Now that is the last great sentence I wrote!” She recommends to keep going back until you find quality, and delete everything in between. “I don’t need slightly better written crap, I just need good stuff,” Whitcomb assessed.

I need a miracle. Goals. Self-imposed deadlines helped Whitcomb get past the finish line, and she works best when they are attached to something real. “I want to get the first draft done by 'this date,' because my friend is going out of town, and she said she’d read it.” Make it real to make it work, and support it with positive visualization, a mantra or made up word. Get creative!

SUCCESS IS IN THE LIGHT

Laura Whitcomb's success has come from asking the what if question. She uses well known or historical events and asks, “What if something is happening underneath the surface that you dOn’t know about?” She explores the murky depths and while she may write about dark places, she doesn’t actually write horror, despite being listed in the category, right after Twilight and, er, Twilight.

“I always write about the light, I believe there is light and love at the core of the universe and inside every human being. It’s why were here,… sometimes human beings hate, and do things that are dark things, but I think we are hopeful beings. That’s what draws me to the stories I read and the stories I write. We are lit from the inside with a common flame,” she concluded.

Burn bright little flame, I've got some writing to do, and quickly!

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First Friday is for Friends

Affinity to art and creative people is in my nature, so naturally, I was attracted to downtown Friday night and the effervescent First Friday Artwalk. The evening began at the Marketplace, the venue for the previously mentioned Mayoral campaign kick-off. The hub event, sponsored by Pacific Continental Bank, offered an array of finger foods and their beverages flowed freely. Veronica from the bank remembered me AND my name. Can you imagine I make an impression on people? Watch out world. And thank God there are still folks in it who believe part of customer service is connecting with something important, the customer’s name. I only mention that because it’s a sub-theme in the book, being a people person vs. a strictly numbers person. I get that yin-yang thing going whenever I can.

To make sure no one felt snubbed, I made the rounds clutching my plastic cup of Pinot Gris, checking in with all the celebrities who have previously met me. My performance was flawless except for that stumble when I called former mayor Bruce, ‘Dave.’ I was distracted glancing at the name tag of the president of the bank, and since he'd never met me, I introduced myself. Duly impressed by my friendly banter, he smiled, and I took license to chat with said president about how my daughter had met Bruce/Dave when she was investigating her own future, political career. As soon as they chuckled I was on my way. I am here to make people laugh first, promote myself second.

First Friday continued to jam to the creative vibe of indigenous artists and I moved eagerly from Evergreen Boulevard over to Main to haunt Angst Gallery and mix it up with the less connected non-old-boys-network. The un-suits, i.e., the casual bring-it-on-world spilled onto the street and became the welcoming committee for artist Christine Eagon.

At the front door I encountered fabric artist Eliza Lane (pictured left) and exchanged a quick hug. Woman (pictured right) I’d previously crossed paths with in Uptown Village. She had swirled a mural wall with fantasy images and a celebration ensued. Both artists continue to create their unique and exquisite work as a side job to the other parts of life.

Most of my correspondence with Eliza comes via Facebook and blogs. Cherry Bombastic makes me laugh out loud. Lord, laughing feels good. This up close and personal encounter in the real world was akin to walking out of the black and white movie of your life into the land of Oz.

Eliza and I met in grade school, our kids’ grade school. Her blond son had sufficient crush on my dark-haired daughter to create elementary curiosity, a need to check in with each other at regular intervals, a movie ‘date’ that Eliza chaperoned, and lots of proximity planning. If "The Magician" was going to be somewhere, Kai maneuvered her way there, too. He plans on becoming a chef, and I delighted at the opportunity to have someone in our sphere who could cook. At this point, though, Eliza and I have concluded what is of utmost interest in fourth grade loses luster in eighth. Both kids have other diversions at the moment.

Eliza happily announced her acceptance into the master’s program at Portland State University. I shouted “Oooo, Oooo, OOLIGAN!” at the news. Last year, Ooligan Press met me at the Willamette Writers conference and expressed interest in my first four chapters, since rewritten four thousand times, so that now they might be good, but I still have to smooth out that first chapter; damn this writing career. Although, nothing came of their inquiry—I neglected to enclose the obligatory SASE to receive their form rejection via post—I did not lost interest in their mission to publish local writers with a bent to highlighting the local area. I worked my way through some of their published books and am currently in love, and I mean deeply, down to the soul smitten, with writer Geronimo Tagatac. His use of language in his short story collection, The Weight of the Sun, actually made me swoon. For real.

The right words wielded in the right way can pierce you.

My next move is to determine how to cross paths with Tagatac so I can fly in his orbit and dig into his brain and see where those words come from. If anyone knows him, please pass on my passion to share a cup of coffee and a chat. I am totally harmless and can offer references to back that up.

At the door step of Angst Gallery, I was mid-stream divulging how I embarrassed myself in front of the chancellor of the local university during Congressman’s Mfume’s event (fodder for future celebrity post), only to discover, that the woman Eliza had been talking to when I ran up all exuberant to get that girl talk going, was related to said chancellor. Erin assured me her dad would have found my antics humorous. I gave her a sideways glance and tried to convince myself it was true.

Inside the gallery I gave Christine Eagon heartfelt greetings and congratulations on her successful show, checked in with gallery owner Leah. Leah met me in that same grade school, yes she is the mother of a BOY, my daughter is networked with half of them in the city. I invest a couple of hours on Saturdays to give Leah relief, banking on future ‘mom’ and ‘art’ credits, and to support a friend fierce about our community, our kids and the world they'll inherit. Before departing, I entered into a quick chat with a man, yeah, I still look, and hustled out to figure out next steps for my Friday evening.

This may not come as a surprise, but I am not shy, and whenever I observe someone who’s face is vaguely familiar I cannot rest until I put the pieces together. I struck up the song, “Where do I know you from?” with this young lady, Cara. We decided probably no-where, paths just crossed on previous gallery events. The Cara conversation led to introduction of this man, Christopher Luna, the poet and blogger.

Now, I would have bought his book when I first noticed it, my daughter is unusually oriented to poetry, but he uses a bad word and I am a mom with standards, however, that does not prevent me from finding people the most interesting thing on the planet.

Well, we were just all so utterly interesting and fascinating and jibbering like fully intelligent people, when all of a sudden Cara pulled out her microphone to record our nonsense for KOUG RADIO.

How does an unpublished author find such good fortune? Well, you work hard, you mix it up, and you get lucky, and you don’t forget to plug your blog for the podcast. I named 'pearlofcarol.blogspot.com' about three times, gathered up everyone’s business card and promised to bug them into infinity to become my fan on Facebook.

I am competively challenged, I MUST WIN. There is a New York Times best-selling author with 16 books to her name and only 195 Facebook fans. Currently, I have 77. Daily, I imagine the smug sensation when I best her.

Okay, and don’t get me started on my LinkedIN status. I finally threw myself into the fray and am clawing my way up to get over 546,800 network connections and beat KenB. Computer geeks have the most intensive networks. Oh, and by the way, thank you Dave, you shot me up 90,000 with your connection and I am grateful (film producers seem to have quite a following, too). And just in case you're wondering, pictures don’t lie, Cara was sufficiently impressed with my progress, she just had a rough time when I neglected to mention Koug Radio as a source when she asked where people should search for information about First Fridays.

My evening on the town ended in the park. Me and the transients snuggled on comfortable park benches. I dodged squirrels and leaves navigating towards laptop, and a couple of curious bugs to download event pictures to Facebook. I sat silent, basking in the glow of the beautiful city where I live and the great people who plan and promote creativity and looked sadly over to the building where I used to work… The $42 million structure stands empty, devoid of the necessary cash flow from our media business to pay the rent. We moved out end of year and continue to struggle in this volatile economy.

In that world, I am present, first, to lead a dedicated sales team fighting to make a dent in that debt, and second to leave them smiling when they’ve had a bad day, or at minimum to offer comfort, creative ideas on how to attack tomorrow, and shore up with praise, as I believe I work with the best individuals in the community.

We will make it through this year.

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