I’ve been slow about getting things on my blog.  My excuse?  Building.  That’s right, building: Habitat away from home, a similar program just up the road, and a shed for us at home.  (No not the home.)   There is something satisfying in using a hammer for what it was designed for, not as a door stop, a paperweight, or a threat to someone that doesn’t agree with me.    The smell of fresh pine, fir and cedar is something I remember from my childhood.  Dad and Mom were always remodeling or building something.

Many years ago, when Hubby and I got married and decided that a 25 acre farm , lots of kids, and three children was a way to stay out of trouble, we needed bedding for the barn.   The gypo logger across the street needed a place to put the sawdust from his operation, so he would dump it in front of our barn door. The goats had fresh cedar and fir bedding.  The aroma was wonderful, and when they were done with it, we fertilized the garden.  You might say we recycled trees. 

Anyway, we have been busy helping change trees into houses for folks that need decent affordable homes.  It is something we can do now, but won’t be able to do later in life. 

I have a list of tools I have learned to use and their uses for the uninformed among my readers:

·         Hammer – a weapon used to hit thumbnails.

·         Screwdriver – miniature pry bar or digging tool

·         Ladder – a device made to scare height challenged people, and something to fall off of for those not scared of it.

·         Pry bar – used to measure short distances

·         Measuring tape – a mechanical device that comes out of its shell, but refuses to retract when desired, and retracts when least expected, especially when perched on top of a ladder, holding on with toenails

·         Pencil – an ever dull piece of wood with graphite hidden within

·         Square – a little triangle that does not fit nicely in a builder’s apron

·         Hard hat – a nice decoration for the back window ledge of the car. 

·         Box knife – a device to cut fingers, but not anything it is supposed to

·         Chalk line – An amazing tool for getting florescent chalk all over the user. 

·         Pneumatic nailer – A tool designed to let the neighbors know that someone is working via loud sounds imitating the shooting of a rifle.  (Throws the nails about as far too.)

·         Chop saw – great for salads

·         Table saw – where lunch is served

·         Skill saw – a device made to remove legs and fingers quickly.

I know the women will understand if I say that we are smart and make our tools multi-task.  A table knife is a screwdriver, a brick, rock or hubby’s  shoe is a hammer, a serrated knife is a saw, and if more is needed, we call a man.

I am in the process of publishing some of my writing.  Crossing the Raging River   is now on Kindle, in digital form of course, but really publishing a physical paperback.  My dear husband has spent hours learning how to format my manuscript for publication.  Just as he thinks it is done, I find yet something else wrong with it. 

We now have it nearly formatted properly, and have yet another proof copy in my hands.  I’m petting the soft cover that has the picture I took.  I have a dear friend that knows a lot about formatting so I took it to her to read. 

Her first words were, “So what’s your marketing plan?”

“Marketing plan?” 

“Yeah, like go to the stores in town that sell books and tell them you’re a local author and have this book to sell.”

“You mean like actually talk to people?”

She nodded.

“Human type?  Not squirrels or bears?”

She nodded again.

“I write because that is my best form of communication.  You know, like in The Big Band Theory, Raj’s girlfriend?  That’s me.”

She laughed.  “No, go in to the store manager and talk to him.”

“What do I say?  What do I wear?  When do I write?  I’m not a salesman… er woman.” 

“You will be.  All authors have to be in sales these days.”

She’s right; publishing is changing so fast right now that no one knows what to do.  Forty years ago, authors typed a perfect copy of their story on a typewriter, and then sent it to a publisher and they said publish or no. 

 Ten years ago, many publishers said that an author needed an agent, someone who had read the story first and weeded out all the terrible manuscripts.   Agents became gateways to publishing and held a lot of power.  At that time, self-publishing was a dirty word. 

The computer changed all that.  Writing perfect manuscripts became a lot less difficult, or so people thought.  You can write anything on a computer and it fixes your mistakes.  Suddenly everyone had a story to tell.

Now, with the advent of digital formats, and the availability of such, authors can write anything and publish.  Publishers are working to stay in business, agents are changing how they do business, digital publishers are having a field day, and writers are not sure what to do. 

No matter what a writer does, he/she has to sell his work.  That means selling to the public with book signings, newspaper articles, and public appearances.  There is no place for the shy or recluse as a new writer.

So now I have to get my one or two sentence sales pitch ready, memorize it and have it ready to deliver.  Then I have trade my blue jeans and flannel shirt for some real woman clothes, and go out and beat the pavement.

Maybe I’ll get one of my children that are more gregarious to be the face of my authorship.  Would it work?  They could sign their way around the country selling my book and meeting my public, and I could stay home and write.  I'll pick my cutest young daughter.  You’ll never know what I really look like.