PTSD / Vet's Wife Self-Publishing / Chapter 33 Excerpt

The clock ticks louder and pressure is building.  Will I make my self-imposed book release date of July 4th?  A GIANT QUESTION MARK! 

Chapter One of my memoir, Diary of a Vet's Wife, Loving and Living with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, begins on July 3rd . . . this date is huge to the topic of my story.

My final draft of the MANUSCRIPT was emailed to my self-publisher on Monday, June 4th, for basic formatting.  What surprised me was a feeling I can only liken to the empty nest syndrome.  I've put my HEART and SOUL into my writing for so many years, I feel lost without it!  Do all writers experience this with their first book?  I've sent my heart out into the world, the house echoes with emptiness.  Will the world be KIND or CRUEL?   

An avid reader all my life, I never stopped to think how much work went into publishing the bazillion books buttering our planet that I took for granted.  But I do NOW!  As a novice, it's enormous!  Am I just a wimp?  Or too much of a perfectionist?  No one else complains.

I can only note that the past is beautiful because one never realises an emotion at the time.  It expands later, and thus we don't have complete emotions about the present, only about the past.
           -Virginia Woolf

(I've placed the following excerpt here for my READERS ONLY, so they don't have to plow through the publishing jargon that I share with other writers).

Chapter 33 Excerpt . . .

     I turned in my sleep, automatically reaching for my husband.  But my hand touched cold empty sheets.  I opened one eye and glanced at the clock.  It was 4:00 a.m.  An alarm went off in my head; the bars close at two.  Unable to fall back to sleep I slipped out of bed, wandered out into the hall and turned on the light.  Shivering in a thin nightgown, I made my way to the living room.  There in the shadows Lorne slept on the couch, fully clothed, curled in a fetal position.  Still half asleep, I shuffled barefoot across the carpet; my only thought was to coax my husband to bed where he would be more comfortable.

     “Lorne,” I whispered, leaning over him, gently laying my hand on his shoulder.

     Suddenly, his eyes snapped open.  He leapt from the couch, landing in a tight crouching position.  His jaw muscles twitched in the dim light, his fists clenched at his chest, ready to strike.  He scared me to death.

     “LORNE!” I shouted, backing away, “IT’S ME, NANCY!”

     Hearing my voice, his eyes came into focus and his facial expression softened.  He was groggy and shaken, but he realized where he was and straightened up, letting his hands drop to his side. 

     “God damn it, Nancy,” he reprimanded me, “don’t ever do that again.  I could have hurt you bad.  And God knows I don’t ever want to do that.”  Shaking his head, he ran his fingers through his hair.  “Nancy, you just don’t understand.  You have no idea what I’m capable of doing.  Promise me you’ll never do that again.”

     “I promise,” I said timidly, sinking into the couch.  I reached up and turned on the lamp.

     Lorne sat down next to me, his brow creased, confusion obscuring his face.  He lit a cigarette, leaned forward, rested his elbows on his knees, and stared out into the dark kitchen.      

      “Baby, I’ve seen and done things I can’t tell you about.  Terrible things,” he said, not looking at me.  “The jungle in Nam was hell.  And the nights were worse.  Black as pitch, you couldn’t see your hand in front of your face; I never saw anything like it.  You sleep with one eye open.  You never knew when one of those gooks in their black pajamas would reach out and stick a knife in your gut.  Couldn’t see the little bastards but you knew they were there.  You couldn’t hear ‘em but you could smell ‘em.  Never knew who would get it next.  Which sorry bastard would get his throat slit?. . .  

My Latest Trials and Triumphs . . .   

My last blog detailed my encounter with the MUSIC PUBLISHING world. Their quick response was welcome, but I later learned there were "two writers names" on the copyright of the lyrics that were THE END of  my story!  Okay, now what?  The good price I was quoted was good only if the other writer agreed to it.  If not, they were each to be paid the higher price!

Thank goodness, my self-publisher saved me a lot of money.  They refused to COUNT BOOKS SOLD, which was a requirement in the copyright.  Can't count books printed one at a time!  Instead, I stubbornly rewrote the last chapter without using the song lyrics . . . even though it REALLY HAPPENED. 

Note:  For the full impact of Chapter 107,  the reader might want a copy of the words to Are You Lonesome Tonight? close at hand.

FORMATTING - The process of "laying out" text and illustrations to convert a manuscript into a finished book page design                 Independent Self-Publishing - the complete guide by Michael N. Marcus

Personally, I lack expertise when it comes to the whistles and bells that hide behind the written words on my computer screen, which magnifies my challenge with formatting my manuscript.

Once the manuscript was submitted and accepted by the self-publisher, my next step was agreeing to the contract and payment.  At that time, they wanted information for THE BOOK TEXT FILE . . . I chose 5.5 x 8.5 (black and white interior only) and creme color paper.

This self-publisher has a limit of 14 ACCEPTABLE FONTS that are used by their printer, allowing the writer to use ONLY TWO of these fonts throughout the manuscript.  The end result:  I chose Palatino Linograph for the body of my text and Arial for titles.  It was time consuming to adjust my 108 chapters to this requirement.  I know there's an easier way, but I wasn't taking a chance of messing up my work at this late stage.

Also noted:  Tabs should be set at .25 or .3, not .5.  DO NOT USE TABS TO INDENT PARAGRAPHS.  Tabs should be replaced with indents.  No idea how to safely perform this task!

(My self-publisher agreed to handle the few tasks I shyed away from).

I think it was at this point I actually REALIZED we were converting a 8.5 x 11 manuscript, 408 double-spaced pages into a 5.5 x 8.5 Trade Paperback!  This meant my book could grow to 500 pages, including blank pages and PART NUMBER inserts.  Not good!  TOO BIG!  The price of a book is determined by the page count.

My challenge: SHRINK THE BOOK!

I ended up outlining a templet of the 5.5 x 8.5 printable area on a clear plastic sleeve with a marker.  Then I proceeded to change fonts, sizing and spacing on one page my manuscript.  One at a time, I'd slip them into the sleeve. This allowed me to judge which combinations would be EASIEST TO READ, while downsizing my work.  I changed the style and size of the chapter number and title as well.

I was on a MISSION - DOWNSIZE the number of pages to cut the cost to the buyer.

As I was formatting, I noticed the WASTED space at the end of many chapters.  

I skimmed through books, looking for ways I could conserve space and I found what I was looking for in a book by Elizabeth Gilbert - "rolling chapters."  Gilbert's publisher began each new chapter within a FEW SPACES of the previous chapter.  A few spaces, a bold chapter number and her story continued, eliminating wasted space.  Actually, I never noticed it until I began my research.  Gilbert's publisher may have done this for the same reason.  And it looks GREAT!

The END RESULT - 188 single spaced 8.5 x 11 pages.  I won't know the final count, nor the thickness of the cover spine, until my manuscript is returned for final proofing.

My FINAL STEP -  To alert my book cover designer in Australia the spine width, which is necessary in completing his work. Once the cover and manuscript are downloaded to the self-publisher - I wait for the galley (first copy printed).  And the BIRTH of my first book. :)

To be continued . . .

Lessons learned . . . my two cents

"What lies behind us and what lies before us are tiny matters compared to what lies within us."     

                                                                       ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson

Traditional Publisher or Self-Publish? . . . My Decision and An Excerpt

For months, I've been sitting on a fence, grappling with indecision.  Do I continue to query Agents, or break the chains of Traditional Publishing and embrace the New World and Self-Publish? 

I'm down off the fence . . . my decision has been made!  Diary of a Vet's Wife, subtitled Loving and Living with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, will be self-published due to the heartfelt encouragement and confidence from friends and followers who are waiting for this book.  And I am most grateful!

These were the main deciding factors . . .:

1. I've spent nearly a year querying agents with no success.  Even if I was picked up tomorrow, it could potentially be another 18 months to 2 years before the book release date.
2. Most agents now ask for a Marketing Plan submitted with your Book Proposal, including the action items you plan to implement yourself.  It used to be a traditional publisher would solely market an author's book.  
3. Agents and publishers take substantial profits, leaving the author with only a pittance for their years, and sometimes decades, of dedication in solitary confinement. (Plus now market their own book).
4. Early on, I was advised not to include excerpts from the book on my blog. This, I was told, could lead to a possible rejection by a publisher. Can't they see this is a marketing tool to gain interest?

When your profit per book (after all expenses) is three, four, five, or more times what you could make with a conventional publisher, you can generate a nice income stream with much lower sales numbers.             - Peter Bowerman

Countless books have been written on Self-Publishing and Marketing, many occupy space on my desk and the floor surrounding my feet. Way too much information to absorb, but I'm wading through it.  Truthfully, once I discovered this avenue, I couldn't set it aside.  I continued to query agents, while uncovering this brave new world. The more I read, the more sense it made.

But now where do I begin? What do I do first?

Success as a self-publisher is far more a function of a process than an aptitude.   - Peter Bowerman

Once again, I never planned to be a writer, and everything I'm doing is from the view point of a novice. I'm as green as a Spring pea. If you're trained in this field of expertise, please forgive my simplicity. I know there are many others like me who need to experience these steps . . .

1. Establish a Reader Base - The first lesson I learned in market research was the necessity to reach readers BEFORE your book is published, whether traditionally or self-published. This was the reason I started my blog.  Each week I also email my post to friends and family in my Outlook address book. Then there's Facebook, Twitter, etc . . . which I still must tackle.  
2. Editing - A writer must scrutinize their work with the eye of a detective. Too many writers, it appears, still submit manuscripts with misspelled words and grammarical errors. It's always best to have someone trained in this area to edit your writing.  Personally, my writing teacher was the first to do a light edit, a classmate did a second edit.  She then recommended one final edit with a professional before submission.  I hired a free-lance editor, Kay Thompson Lee, who is currently three-quarters through my manuscript smoothing any rough edges along the way.   
3. Your Cover - The most important part of your book! Covers sell books! Many buying decisions are made based solely on covers. Why do so many authors stop short of the finish line? Take the time and invest the money to create a cover that would have an impartial observer be totally unaware that it's a self-published effort. A cover so good that when they do find out it's self-published, they're amazed. - Peter Bowerman, The Well-Fed Self-Publisher

I finally feel like I've stepped into a clearing on My Uncharted Journey into Publishing My First Book. I can take a deep breath now that I know my next major step is my book cover. This requires a graphic designer. Maybe a college student at California State University Northridge, which is located nearby.  A creative type bubbling with fresh ideas, who can deal with me and my artistic preferences at a lower pay scale, knowing their name will be carved in my book like stone with my eternal gratitude.  Wish me luck . . .

To be honest, I literally still have no idea what I want on this cover.  But I'm open to suggestions . . . Anyone?

An Excerpt . . . from Chapter 4

     . . . Grant rang the doorbell. 
     Moments later, Jackie flung open the screen door.  "I'm so happy y'all could make it," she said, hugging us tightly.
     Jackie was in her early fifties, slim and attractive, with cropped platinum blond hair that framed huge Bette Davis eyes.  Dressed in a simple sundress, she looked fresh as a new day.
     "Happy Birthday," I said, kissing her cheek.  "I hope you like these."  I handed her a small gift containing a pair of sable paintbrushes.
     "Happy Birthday," Grant echoed.  Taking her wrist, he clicked his heels, bowed and kissed the back of her hand, then produced a bottle of red wine from behind his back.
     "Grant, you are so gallant," Jackie giggled.
     We followed her down a long narrow hallway to the back of the house.  Oil painting of subtle nudes and vivid flowers lined the dimly lit walls, casting the illusion of some archaic art gallery.  The small three-bedroom house was old and unassuming, but the natural lighting in the den was an artist's dream.
     Muffled voices drifted out into the hallway over the grumbling protests of an ancient air conditioner.  Stepping into the den, Jackie introduced us to the small group already gathered, then hurried back to the kitchen for more appetizers.
     I settled into a cozy blue chair opposite the doorway, setting my purse on the floor.
     Grant tapped me on the shoulder, "Scotch?"
     I nodded, "Please."
     He strolled off to the kitchen and returned with a tall drink with lots of ice.  He took a seat across the room at an old upright piano against the wall.  Sitting tall, he closed his eyes, dissolving into his own rendition of Lullaby of Bird Land.
     As I sipped my drink I looked around the room feeling lost and out of place.  Stepping back into the world of singles was definitely a shock.  So much had changed.  Women were liberated, fighting for equal rights, a cause I supported but one in which I had little experience.
     The doorbell rang.  Jackie hurried down the hall to answer it.  In the distance I heard the resounding echo of cowboy boots striking the hardwood floor.  Jackie emerged in the doorway, her cheeks flushed.  I peered over the rim of my glass, catching my first glimpse of the new arrival . . .

Lesson learned . . . or my two cents

 Smiles, tears, of all my life! - and, if God choose, I shall but love thee better after death.                     - Elizabeth Barrett Browning