Have you ever noticed people drive like they live? I have. And I do. Road rage and reckless driving are obvious
metaphors for living. Here is one of my driving patterns that has provided me with clarity about some of my off-road
experiences.
A few years ago, I noticed that I allowed aggressive drivers to speed demon me out of the left lane on the highway
as I attempted to use it for passing. In my rear view mirror, I'd see their cars zooming at lethal speeds about to bear
down on me. I became anxious and switched back to the travel lane before I passed the cars that initially prompted my
move. After the aggressor sped by, I often had missed my opportunity to pass, as other cars behind me filled up the
passing lane. Eventually, I'd ease back into the left lane feeling like the school bully had just given me a dangling
wedgie, stolen my sneakers, and left me in the center of the schoolyard, head bowed.
Other times, I was scarcely able to move out of the left lane without crashing into the cars I was trying to pass
before the aggressor overtook me. Even with my half-mile lead, the driver's velocity often resulted in the near
convergence of our bumpers at 85 miles an hour in a 55 zone.
I've witnessed drivers tailgating other drivers who use the left lane for below-speed-limit travel as a way to nudge
them out of the passing lane. I empathize with the frustration even if I don't condone the tactic. However, riding the
bumper of a car whose driver is doing her best to clear out of your way is mean for mean's sake.
I've experienced bullying throughout my life - in the schoolyards of Lower Manhattan when I transferred from a
private school to the jungles of the city's public education system, in my childhood home by one parent too disturbed
to know any better, and in the workplace by tormentors disguised as bosses. I lived in a constant state of flinch -
what psychotherapists call "hypervigilance" - wondering when the next blow would come.
When I connected my long-term flinch reflex with my reaction to aggressive drivers, I decided, "No more." Life will
always be filled with bullies but I will no longer allow my fear of them to force choices I don't want to make.
The next time a road bully went to work on my car bumper I stayed my course: I kept in the left lane until I passed
the cars I intended to pass at a speed that was legal and safe. The entire time, I fixed my eyes on the road ahead of
me, not the aggressor behind me. I continue to practice this new driving habit in the belief its positive effects will
transfer to other areas of my life.
They have.
A good friend who is also a professional coach has a favorite saying: "Your life goes in the direction of your
thoughts." I'm still edgy when cars ride my bumper but, each time they do, I take advantage of the opportunity to
practice being less reactive to the behavior of others and more empowered by my own rules of the road.
I intended The Lesson of the Paper Clips for a grown-up audience. It's what I call a "picture
book for adults." Feedback I've received shows that it has a broader audience. One woman told me she read it to her
nine-year-old son as a way to "introduce the concept of metaphor." Another woman's seven-year-old son asked to read it
when it arrived in the mail from Amazon. He was proud to finish it in one sitting but then announced, "I don't
understand it." To my mind, this makes sense. Though the book is filled with images and simple words, to grasp the
metaphor requires some measure of life experience. His mom took advantage of a teaching moment: she explained the
metaphor this way: "If you return your toys to the chest after you finish playing with them, you won't have a roomful
of toys to pick up at night when we're both tired and cranky."
A third mom shared this: "I had my procrastinating 17-year-old sit down and read the book. … I enjoyed the
fact that you steered away from the typical negative labels like fear, anxiety, [and] low self-esteem. It is truly a
'How to [book].' How to make a change, how to make a better choice."
Thrilled that my book was finding new audiences, I decided to leverage this knowledge into a marketing opportunity.
When an associate, who is also the principal of a local, private primary school, purchased a copy of my book, I asked
her to consider sharing it with her fifth and sixth grade students. Her process for introducing new learning tools into
the school involves their initial review by her teaching staff. The verdict on The Lesson of the Paper Clips? It is
better suited for an adult audience.
Back when I was seeking literary representation, I attended an agents' panel at a writers' conference in Boston. It
was an excellent session where literary agents and trade editors critiqued participants' non-fiction book proposals.
One agent made a comment I've never forgotten and have taken to heart as I conceive of and write new books: "When you
write your proposal, don't say your book will appeal to everyone. No book appeals to everyone. Know your market."
My market is adults interested in self-awareness, self-improvement, and personal growth with a light touch. They may
gravitate toward The Lesson of The Paper Clips for themselves, for others, or both. They are leadership development
professionals, corporate trainers, life coaches, spa owners, social workers - anybody who is in the business of helping
adults live their best lives. They are also entrepreneurs, people in the throes of life change, or individuals who,
like me, simply enjoy access to a variety of information that inspires them to live well. Other than the great feedback
from the moms mentioned above, I'm unaware that I've sold any books to adults who were expressly buying them for
children.
Some readers of this newsletter have asked about the bulk order information I promised in November. Thanks! And here
it is: for purchases of 100 or more books, the cost is $10 per book - $2.50 off the retail price - plus shipping.
Click here for the order form. Or for future orders, click on the "Bulk Order" button
on the Books page of my Web site.
In the previous episode, Decisions, decisions! Gina learned how to trust herself and have
faith in and fun with her book ideas as a platform for
publishing success - achieving her goal of becoming a book author. In this installment, Gina learns that writing and
publishing her book were the easy parts. Marketing? That's a different story.
I'm not a writer who only wants to be an Artiste without investing energy in the framework that supports the craft -
marketing, distribution and sales. I gave up that fantasy in the early days of learning about the industry as a member
of the National Writers Union.
At NWU, I was exposed to successful, working authors who not only executed well on marketable ideas but also played
active roles in ensuring their book's success in the marketplace. With each milestone - contract, book signings, sales
and royalty statements - they learned lessons that they used to increased advantage as they became more seasoned.
For example, book signings may sound like fun, ego-filled events where the writer saunters in moments before the
mike is turned on and positions herself on a director's chair between a tower of her books and a supply of designer
water. In reality, they're more like a logistical circus where the artist is also ringmaster, elephant sweep, and
popcorn vendor.
The writer who experiences a well-attended, organized book signing is the writer who also gets the word out to her
mailing list, brings a cache of her own books as backup for the ones that may not be in stock when she arrives, alerts
the local media about the event and calls the bookstore more than once to be sure they are expecting her on the day she
plans to show up. I learned this from writers who are published with what "Guerilla Marketing for Writers" calls the
"Six Sisters" - "the six global multimedia, multinational conglomerates that dominate English-language trade
publishing." All of the publishing houses with familiar names such as Little Brown, Bantam Dell, HarperCollins, Penguin
Viking, Simon & Schuster, and St. Martin's Press are owned by one of these six:
- AOL/Time Warner
- Bertalsmann AG (Germany)
- Rupert Murdoch's News Corporation
- Pearson, Penguin
- Viacom
- Dieter Von Holtzbrinck (Germany)
The NWU authors' repeated advice - on listservs, at workshops, in-person: unless you are a celebrity or a
best-selling author, be prepared to market your book yourself.
At first, I was shocked. "What…? You mean…? I … I have to promote my own work? I can't just
stay home and write?" Half a century ago, the publishing industry took bigger risks on and invested in cultivating
writers they thought had long futures as authors. Sometimes it paid off; sometimes it didn't. Those were the days when
publishing houses were not tentacles swinging from multi-media conglomerates. Those were the days when editors did not
have to toe the bottom line - that bit of ho-hum was left to the accountants. They had the luxury of acquiring books
from writers whose work they adored.
Those days are over.
And it took little for me to recover from the shock once I began to better understand the industry. In high-level
terms, if a publisher is investing thousands of dollars to print and distribute a writer's book, and paying the writer
an advance to write it (non-fiction) or acquire it (fiction), why shouldn't the writer be responsible for promoting it?
Whose job should it be if not the person with the greatest emotional investment in the product and the deepest
knowledge of the product's market? Who better to shepherd the book's success? The publisher - venture capitalist as it
were - is assuming all the financial risk. If the publisher says, "bring me a return on my investment," what's the
argument for saying, "no"?
I can't come up with one.
"Ten fishhooks." That's the folksy way the Author's Guild facilitator referred to a book's target audiences in her
book marketing workshop. "Don't spend time on publicity for publicity's sake," she advised. "Spend your time on
publicity tied directly to book sales." As a cum laude graduate of the Work-Smarter-Not-Harder school of productivity,
I was liking this gal already.
Some writers get excited about the opportunity to be reviewed in, say, The New York Times, our facilitator
explained. Indeed, the paper reaches millions of eyeballs but how many of them are attached to readers who have a
direct connection to or interest in the topic of your book? You are not trying to reach everyone, she reminded us, you
are trying to gain exposure to the people who are most inclined to purchase your books. That's where the fishhooks come
in.
The facilitator used the novel "To Kill a Mockingbird" as an accessible example. We identified different groups of
people who might be interested in this book such as people interested in civil rights, courtroom dramas, all things
southern, coming of age stories, and so on. The next step was to identify where we might locate them. Our facilitator
generated discussion about what other interests they might have and where they shop, meet and play. She noted that just
about every occupation and avocation in the United States has an association comprised of individuals who organize
around common interests or experiences. Before she referred to it, I already knew about The Encyclopedia of
Associations, a comprehensive source of detailed information on over 135,000 nonprofit membership organizations
worldwide available in print and database form in the main branches of public libraries.
On she went about the usefulness of news groups, chat rooms, and other Web tools for tapping into target
audiences.
I was raring to go.
And, off I went - right into a wall: full-time job, part-time freelancer, with barely enough time to follow-up a
successful book launch by identifying and establishing a relationship with an offset printer, and delivering books to
gift shops and individual supporters to make my books more widely available for the holiday season. I had yet to mail
all my book announcements, let alone fully identify and market to target audiences.
I knew what to do, how to do it, and I looked forward to the creative challenge of reaching my book's audience but I
had run out of time. When I left for East Africa mid-month - a trip I'd booked on a whim six months earlier - I had
also run out of steam. (And now you also know why this newsletter is later than I intended!)
In the next episode, Gina returns from Africa and struggles to find the physical, emotional, and logistical balance
to stay the creative course in The Leap, Part 9: I Need a New Attitude.
Michael from Minneapolis, Minn. writes: "Reflecting on Margaret's metaphor as I drove into
work today (third day of snow), I find that my reaction to
winter here in the great white North is a metaphor for life in general. I can embrace winter by continuing to walk the
dog every day (O.K., most days), go ice skating, sledding, skiing, enjoy the beauty of the landscape with the new
fallen snow, continue to get out and do things with friends even though the roads may be a bit icy and I have to
'bundle up.' Or I can hunker down and stay home, isolating myself, wishing for warmer weather and 'better
times.'"
Tell me about your Symbol Life. How have your own metaphors for living shaped you? What leaps have you taken? I'd
love to hear about them.
Thanks for taking time to read my newsletter. I'll be writing to you again next month.
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