April 8—For today's prompt, write a ready to celebrate poem. You could chronicle the actual celebration or even write about the anticipation of one.
Are You Ready To Ce-le-brate?
By Bill Kirk
Some might say a cause for celebration
Hardly comes along every day.
Yet maybe that’s cause enough to be ready,
Wouldn’t you say—to giggle, smile, shout, congratulate?
After all, there’s always plenty
To bemoan our pitiful circumstances
And ample reason to groan and complain,
Wondering why this or that hard knock happened.
But then, along comes some happy time
Or its memory or the anniversary of one,
That curls up the mouth corners, even if only slightly.
So, shouldn’t we be ready for those happy-nings,
Whether anticipated or unexpected?
You know, just in case?
Oh, sure. We could also be ready
To sink into the depths of depression.
After all, deference to the sensibilities
Of those who suffer loss is at times
The only right thing to do.
Yet even in the midst of inconsolable sadness,
The spark of joy and gladness awaits its turn
To give another day of life its due,
In anticipation of yet a better one.
“This is the day the Lord has made;
Let us rejoice and be glad in it.” (Psalm 118:24)
Showing posts with label opportunities. Show all posts
Showing posts with label opportunities. Show all posts
Friday, April 8, 2011
Sunday, September 5, 2010
On Becoming An Eagle Scout
Parents, Honored Guests, Friends and Fellow Scouts:
I am honored to have this opportunity to speak to you about the meaning of Scouting in the lives of the young men who choose to be part of it and particularly those who persevere on the Trail to Eagle. But I must say, some of you know all too well there is a great risk in giving me a podium and an audience with a whole evening before me and a subject I love. All I can promise is to try to practice the Ninth Point of the Scout Law and be "Thrifty" with your time this evening.
Scouting is one of the greatest organizations in the world to foster the highest ideals of citizenship and service. It is little wonder then that so many of our nation’s greatest leaders had some of their earliest leadership experiences in Scouting. Some aspects of the Scouting program may have changed over time. But one thing remains constant. That is, the total development from boyhood to manhood is still founded on the physical, mental, and moral excellence expressed in and demanded by the Scout Oath and Scout Law.
When most boys enter Scouting, they likely picture themselves as someday becoming Eagle Scouts. But as often happens, many activities and interests clamor for their attention as they enter their high school years and the early Scouting flames and aspirations may dim to ashes and flicker away. After all, historically only about four percent of Scouts have achieved the Eagle Rank.
So, what does the Eagle badge represent in the lives of the young men who earn it? Certainly, it means that a Scout has set his eyes on a challenging goal and has worked hard to achieve it. But more importantly, it is a measure of a boy’s future potential as he grows to manhood. In truth, achieving the Eagle Scout Rank is not an end but simply an open door to the future.
There is much that can be said about the Trail to Eagle, about the challenges along the way and about the accomplishment itself—the what, how and when. But I would like to highlight one point that is often missed. That is, long before a Scout can actually reach this high honor, he has a decision to make. That decision is the fundamental answer to the question, “Do I want to be an Eagle Scout?”
In fact, this very question is the “why” that drives each prospective Eagle Scout forward. It is a decision only the Scout himself can make. That these young men are here before you is clear evidence each one made the decision and stayed the course.
Certainly, their family and friends encouraged them and maybe even gently nudged them at various points along the way. And any Scout would likely tell you that an encouraging word can be like gold when the journey gets tough and a Scout has to dig deep, then deeper still, just to keep going. But ultimately, and by design, the Scout must answer the call of the soaring eagle for himself, just as each of these young men did.
For some the decision may have come early in their Scouting careers. For others, it may have happened much later, after an awakening about what becoming an Eagle Scout means to them. And did I mention there is a clock ticking away in the background? Yes, at age 18, the Trail to Eagle ends for all Boy Scouts.
But regardless of when the decision occurs, that is the moment each Scout truly learns the importance of the Eagle Scout Rank in his own life. It is at that decision point when he accepts the challenge, makes the commitment and maps out a personal plan and strategy to meet the goal.
How many Ranks and Merit Badges do I have left and can I complete them all in time? What will I do for my Eagle Service Project and how long do I need to finish it? Have I completed all my Leadership requirements and have I done my best to be an active mentor to other Scouts in the Troop looking to me for guidance? These are the questions each Scout must answer for himself, often when facing the many other demands of an increasingly busy schedule of school, family, sports and even work activities.
On occasion, the Scout’s decision to embark on the Trail to Eagle may be challenged by others—peers in school, team mates or even friends—who may not fully understand the pull of the spirit of Scouting. No matter, because it is a Scout’s own personal motivation which will carry him across the finish line.
As I thought about each of the young men seated before you this evening, I noted a common theme along their Trail to Eagle. It has been a clear and strong sense of self and, yes, even a bit of a stubborn streak, that has stood them in good stead on their individual journeys. Indeed, I would have no trouble speaking volumes about the strong personal attributes of each one.
Some have left their mark on academics, others in athletic competition. Some followed Eagles in their own families or reached that goal as the first. Some have excelled in math and science, others in the arts. Some have dug snow caves that would match any survivor's story, others have climbed mountains or backpacked for miles for the sheer joy of it.
However, regardless of their individual accomplishments, skills and talents both inside and outside of Scouting, they are now bound together by one common conviction—they are, and always will be, Eagle Scouts who are 100 percent guilty of being Trustworthy, Loyal, Helpful, Friendly, Courteous, Kind, Obedient, Cheerful, Thrifty, Brave, Clean and Reverent.
Gentlemen, Welcome to the Eagles' Nest. It is a personal honor and a singular pleasure to be in your company.
And it’s a great day for Scouting!
I am honored to have this opportunity to speak to you about the meaning of Scouting in the lives of the young men who choose to be part of it and particularly those who persevere on the Trail to Eagle. But I must say, some of you know all too well there is a great risk in giving me a podium and an audience with a whole evening before me and a subject I love. All I can promise is to try to practice the Ninth Point of the Scout Law and be "Thrifty" with your time this evening.
Scouting is one of the greatest organizations in the world to foster the highest ideals of citizenship and service. It is little wonder then that so many of our nation’s greatest leaders had some of their earliest leadership experiences in Scouting. Some aspects of the Scouting program may have changed over time. But one thing remains constant. That is, the total development from boyhood to manhood is still founded on the physical, mental, and moral excellence expressed in and demanded by the Scout Oath and Scout Law.
When most boys enter Scouting, they likely picture themselves as someday becoming Eagle Scouts. But as often happens, many activities and interests clamor for their attention as they enter their high school years and the early Scouting flames and aspirations may dim to ashes and flicker away. After all, historically only about four percent of Scouts have achieved the Eagle Rank.
So, what does the Eagle badge represent in the lives of the young men who earn it? Certainly, it means that a Scout has set his eyes on a challenging goal and has worked hard to achieve it. But more importantly, it is a measure of a boy’s future potential as he grows to manhood. In truth, achieving the Eagle Scout Rank is not an end but simply an open door to the future.
There is much that can be said about the Trail to Eagle, about the challenges along the way and about the accomplishment itself—the what, how and when. But I would like to highlight one point that is often missed. That is, long before a Scout can actually reach this high honor, he has a decision to make. That decision is the fundamental answer to the question, “Do I want to be an Eagle Scout?”
In fact, this very question is the “why” that drives each prospective Eagle Scout forward. It is a decision only the Scout himself can make. That these young men are here before you is clear evidence each one made the decision and stayed the course.
Certainly, their family and friends encouraged them and maybe even gently nudged them at various points along the way. And any Scout would likely tell you that an encouraging word can be like gold when the journey gets tough and a Scout has to dig deep, then deeper still, just to keep going. But ultimately, and by design, the Scout must answer the call of the soaring eagle for himself, just as each of these young men did.
For some the decision may have come early in their Scouting careers. For others, it may have happened much later, after an awakening about what becoming an Eagle Scout means to them. And did I mention there is a clock ticking away in the background? Yes, at age 18, the Trail to Eagle ends for all Boy Scouts.
But regardless of when the decision occurs, that is the moment each Scout truly learns the importance of the Eagle Scout Rank in his own life. It is at that decision point when he accepts the challenge, makes the commitment and maps out a personal plan and strategy to meet the goal.
How many Ranks and Merit Badges do I have left and can I complete them all in time? What will I do for my Eagle Service Project and how long do I need to finish it? Have I completed all my Leadership requirements and have I done my best to be an active mentor to other Scouts in the Troop looking to me for guidance? These are the questions each Scout must answer for himself, often when facing the many other demands of an increasingly busy schedule of school, family, sports and even work activities.
On occasion, the Scout’s decision to embark on the Trail to Eagle may be challenged by others—peers in school, team mates or even friends—who may not fully understand the pull of the spirit of Scouting. No matter, because it is a Scout’s own personal motivation which will carry him across the finish line.
As I thought about each of the young men seated before you this evening, I noted a common theme along their Trail to Eagle. It has been a clear and strong sense of self and, yes, even a bit of a stubborn streak, that has stood them in good stead on their individual journeys. Indeed, I would have no trouble speaking volumes about the strong personal attributes of each one.
Some have left their mark on academics, others in athletic competition. Some followed Eagles in their own families or reached that goal as the first. Some have excelled in math and science, others in the arts. Some have dug snow caves that would match any survivor's story, others have climbed mountains or backpacked for miles for the sheer joy of it.
However, regardless of their individual accomplishments, skills and talents both inside and outside of Scouting, they are now bound together by one common conviction—they are, and always will be, Eagle Scouts who are 100 percent guilty of being Trustworthy, Loyal, Helpful, Friendly, Courteous, Kind, Obedient, Cheerful, Thrifty, Brave, Clean and Reverent.
Gentlemen, Welcome to the Eagles' Nest. It is a personal honor and a singular pleasure to be in your company.
And it’s a great day for Scouting!
Sunday, April 18, 2010
To Wish Is Its Own Reward
April 18: “For today's prompt, take the phrase "To (blank)," replace the blank with a word or phrase, make the new phrase the title of your poem, and then, write the poem. Some examples: "To the left, to the left," "To write or not to write," "To Kill a Hummingbird," "To the Doghouse," etc. There are so many possibilities.”
Indeed, there are possibilities galore for this prompt—just choosing a title that is either a noun or a verb, an object or an action, leaves you with seemingly endless options. And there’s the serious or the silly, the reflective or the quirky.
A single letter can totally change the essence of a title or its poem. Consider the difference between “To Arms” (a call to immediate action) and “To Arm” (a potential question for reflective discourse). No doubt Robert Lee Brewer must toss and turn in his sleep to come up with daily prompts to challenge even the titling of a poem, much less the writing of it.
To Wish
Bill Kirk
To wish,
Whether quietly or aloud,
Is to hope, to desire, to anticipate.
As infinitives go, “to wish” is rare.
It holds a singular optimism that
Who we are,
What we are doing and
Where we are going
Will be as good as, or even far better than,
Our immediate here and now.
And to actually take the step
Of making a wish is a
Self declaration of our belief
In boundless possibilities,
Defined and confined
Only by the wisher.
Indeed, the very existence of
“To wish” in our language
Allows us to think in terms as large
As our imaginations are capable.
And then, we can wish even larger still
For something—anything—that is beyond
Everything which doesn’t yet exist.
Simple wishes are sometimes the best.
A child might wish for a silver dollar
In exchange for a first-pulled tooth.
Or a violinist for the purest of notes
To be called forth as bow meets string.
And is it too grand for a writer to wish
For sufficient inspiration to coax
Just the right words onto the page?
To be sure, certain wishes
Might not be in our own best interest
Or that of others.
Wishing a flat tire for the driver
Who just cut you off
Might slather momentary satisfaction
On a bruised psyche.
But what if your instantaneous mental snapshot
Of such an obvious transgression
Fails to take into account
The sick child in the back seat
En route the emergency room?
Even in the naming of our enemies,
Whether briefly or long term,
Do we not wish calamity for them—
And, in contrast, the better for us?
Yet in so doing, are we not the lesser for it?
Instead, aren’t the best wishes unselfish,
Like a prayerful request to improve our lot
But not at the expense of others?
And in our wishing, is it not best to wish boldly—
To let our imaginings run free?
Or do we fail to wish simply for fear of failure?
Wishing is at the heart of living and
Our capacity to wish is its own reward.
Everything else is gravy.
Indeed, there are possibilities galore for this prompt—just choosing a title that is either a noun or a verb, an object or an action, leaves you with seemingly endless options. And there’s the serious or the silly, the reflective or the quirky.
A single letter can totally change the essence of a title or its poem. Consider the difference between “To Arms” (a call to immediate action) and “To Arm” (a potential question for reflective discourse). No doubt Robert Lee Brewer must toss and turn in his sleep to come up with daily prompts to challenge even the titling of a poem, much less the writing of it.
To Wish
Bill Kirk
To wish,
Whether quietly or aloud,
Is to hope, to desire, to anticipate.
As infinitives go, “to wish” is rare.
It holds a singular optimism that
Who we are,
What we are doing and
Where we are going
Will be as good as, or even far better than,
Our immediate here and now.
And to actually take the step
Of making a wish is a
Self declaration of our belief
In boundless possibilities,
Defined and confined
Only by the wisher.
Indeed, the very existence of
“To wish” in our language
Allows us to think in terms as large
As our imaginations are capable.
And then, we can wish even larger still
For something—anything—that is beyond
Everything which doesn’t yet exist.
Simple wishes are sometimes the best.
A child might wish for a silver dollar
In exchange for a first-pulled tooth.
Or a violinist for the purest of notes
To be called forth as bow meets string.
And is it too grand for a writer to wish
For sufficient inspiration to coax
Just the right words onto the page?
To be sure, certain wishes
Might not be in our own best interest
Or that of others.
Wishing a flat tire for the driver
Who just cut you off
Might slather momentary satisfaction
On a bruised psyche.
But what if your instantaneous mental snapshot
Of such an obvious transgression
Fails to take into account
The sick child in the back seat
En route the emergency room?
Even in the naming of our enemies,
Whether briefly or long term,
Do we not wish calamity for them—
And, in contrast, the better for us?
Yet in so doing, are we not the lesser for it?
Instead, aren’t the best wishes unselfish,
Like a prayerful request to improve our lot
But not at the expense of others?
And in our wishing, is it not best to wish boldly—
To let our imaginings run free?
Or do we fail to wish simply for fear of failure?
Wishing is at the heart of living and
Our capacity to wish is its own reward.
Everything else is gravy.
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
Until Death Do Us Part
April 7: “…For today's (Poem A Day Challenge) prompt, take the phrase "Until (blank)," replace the blank with a word or phrase, make the new phrase the title of your poem, and write the poem.”
After yesterday’s ekphrastic challenge, I’m ready for anything. At first, writing an “until …” poem seemed a bit perplexing. But then I got to thinking “until” is such a future word and, as such, is laden with hope and promise—not a bad concept to run with. And what better "until" sentiment, especially after 40 years of marriage, than "Until Death Do Us Part"? So, dedicated to my wife on her birthday, here is...
Until Death Do Us Part
By Bill Kirk
Only five words.
What more is there to say?
And what’s not to like about “until”?
Imbedded in the word is the promise
Of a future unbridled and unscripted—
As for the ultimate parting?
That's got togetherness written all over it.
"Until": What better word is there
To suggest life anticipated?
And the death thing?
Well, it's just a matter of time
Until we exit planet Earth;
With luck, the longer the better.
Yet, sad to say,
Many are unwilling or unsatisfied
To allow the meaning of this simple,
Five-word contract to stand as stated.
More is always said—and done—to move the parting
Ahead and trade the sweet for sorrow.
What would be whole and unassailable
Is cast aside, deconstructed.
Why can’t we leave well enough alone?
Is not the intended fulfillment of promises made,
The very essence of human goodness?
Why is staying the course and
Reaping the richness of life interwoven,
Eschewed in favor of far lesser momentary gain?
Is this the prisoner’s dilemma all over again?
As the story goes,
In the absence of communication, trust trumps all.
Yet, lacking trust, ego attempts to claim its share,
Only to sacrifice greater gain, greater good, greater love.
Why is that?
Is reason so hard to preserve
In the face of offended sensibilities?
After yesterday’s ekphrastic challenge, I’m ready for anything. At first, writing an “until …” poem seemed a bit perplexing. But then I got to thinking “until” is such a future word and, as such, is laden with hope and promise—not a bad concept to run with. And what better "until" sentiment, especially after 40 years of marriage, than "Until Death Do Us Part"? So, dedicated to my wife on her birthday, here is...
Until Death Do Us Part
By Bill Kirk
Only five words.
What more is there to say?
And what’s not to like about “until”?
Imbedded in the word is the promise
Of a future unbridled and unscripted—
As for the ultimate parting?
That's got togetherness written all over it.
"Until": What better word is there
To suggest life anticipated?
And the death thing?
Well, it's just a matter of time
Until we exit planet Earth;
With luck, the longer the better.
Yet, sad to say,
Many are unwilling or unsatisfied
To allow the meaning of this simple,
Five-word contract to stand as stated.
More is always said—and done—to move the parting
Ahead and trade the sweet for sorrow.
What would be whole and unassailable
Is cast aside, deconstructed.
Why can’t we leave well enough alone?
Is not the intended fulfillment of promises made,
The very essence of human goodness?
Why is staying the course and
Reaping the richness of life interwoven,
Eschewed in favor of far lesser momentary gain?
Is this the prisoner’s dilemma all over again?
As the story goes,
In the absence of communication, trust trumps all.
Yet, lacking trust, ego attempts to claim its share,
Only to sacrifice greater gain, greater good, greater love.
Why is that?
Is reason so hard to preserve
In the face of offended sensibilities?
Friday, October 9, 2009
A Little Slice Of History
This entry may seem a bit less about writing than it is about personal history. But maybe the fact that it is written makes it writing enough.
Have you ever come across something on the Internet that strikes you as deja vu? That maybe you were somehow connected to the story or image? Here's a bit of a personal journal entry about a recent such encounter I had.
I saw a photo of an old steam ship which had been captured and frozen in time by a German photographer about 15 years ago, similar to the photo below. It was a ship which, as it turns out, has particular personal meaning to me, my three sisters and my mom.
I had seen this photo of the ship months ago---several times in fact. At the time, it struck me as just another photo, albeit a rather remarkable one for lots of different reasons. I mean, how often might one see a huge ocean liner stuck on a beach, virtually fully exposed from its keel to its stacks, rusting away but still magnificent looking even in its decay? Indeed it was a bit spooky in a ghost ship kind of way. Yet it wasn't until recently that I realized that the ship in the photo was not just any ship.
I'm not certain why but in somewhat of a reflective moment recently, I felt compelled to do a search on the SS America to see where it might be these days. You'll see the connection in a minute. I came across several sites with photos and history, including information about plans to convert the ship into a floating hotel or a museum. One such website was created by a former crew member trying to locate other former crew members and passengers who had traveled on the ship. I think he wanted to set up reunions and collect memorabilia people might still have.
Then out of the blue, a slide show arrived in my e-mail---a total coincidence. You know how these things on the Internet can just show up. I don't often spend time browsing through photo files. But I must admit to enjoying all the various scenes the photographer had captured in this slideshow. I was particularly drawn to the photo of a huge passenger liner which had apparently run aground and was being battered by the waves like a beached whale. That's when it struck me that this haunting photo looked very much like some of the photos I had seen during my Internet search of the SS America.
So, why the interest, you may ask. In fact, the ship in the slide show is the former SS America on which my Mom, sisters and I crossed the Atlantic in 1963. I was 16 at the time. It so happened that the photo was taken very shortly after the ship had run aground in the Canary Islands in 1994, over 30 years later. I hadn't realize at the time we were aboard that we had been on one of the final Atlantic crossings while the ship still carried the proud name SS America.
I have a vague memory of some talk when we were on the ship that the United States Lines was thinking about selling the ship to another company. But that seemed unbelievable to me. After all, how could the United States even think about selling the ship which had been the symbol of America on the High Seas for over two decades?
Alas, it was indeed sold in 1964 to a foreign shipping company. In the 30 years that followed, it would change hands and names several times until a powerful Atlantic storm ripped it away from its towing boats en route to what was to be its hotel conversion. Adrift, it finally ran aground in the Canary Islands and that was the end of it. The photographer had been in the right place at the right time to catch the ship while it was still intact and basically upright. For very soon after the photo was taken, the opportunity to capture this moment in time was lost.
Looking at the photo of the iron carcass still leaves me with a melancholy feeling---wishing I could have gone to the Canary Islands to see the ship while it was still in one piece---an opportunity missed. Now there is nothing much to see. The ship split apart in the pounding waves shortly after running aground. Over what some have reported as being a ten-year period the ship finally sank in pieces. At low tide, only a small chunk of it can sometimes be seen sticking out of the water---a sad ending to a grand old lady.
So, if you happen to see the photo of the ship as the slide show drifts by on the Internet, make note that the SS America was once among the grandest ships on the High Seas. This one-time passenger in the spring of 1963 remembers her in her glory.
Here is a URL to the site with the ship's history along with photos in her prime and in her decline: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/SS_America_(1940) .
Have you ever come across something on the Internet that strikes you as deja vu? That maybe you were somehow connected to the story or image? Here's a bit of a personal journal entry about a recent such encounter I had.
I saw a photo of an old steam ship which had been captured and frozen in time by a German photographer about 15 years ago, similar to the photo below. It was a ship which, as it turns out, has particular personal meaning to me, my three sisters and my mom.
I had seen this photo of the ship months ago---several times in fact. At the time, it struck me as just another photo, albeit a rather remarkable one for lots of different reasons. I mean, how often might one see a huge ocean liner stuck on a beach, virtually fully exposed from its keel to its stacks, rusting away but still magnificent looking even in its decay? Indeed it was a bit spooky in a ghost ship kind of way. Yet it wasn't until recently that I realized that the ship in the photo was not just any ship.
I'm not certain why but in somewhat of a reflective moment recently, I felt compelled to do a search on the SS America to see where it might be these days. You'll see the connection in a minute. I came across several sites with photos and history, including information about plans to convert the ship into a floating hotel or a museum. One such website was created by a former crew member trying to locate other former crew members and passengers who had traveled on the ship. I think he wanted to set up reunions and collect memorabilia people might still have.
Then out of the blue, a slide show arrived in my e-mail---a total coincidence. You know how these things on the Internet can just show up. I don't often spend time browsing through photo files. But I must admit to enjoying all the various scenes the photographer had captured in this slideshow. I was particularly drawn to the photo of a huge passenger liner which had apparently run aground and was being battered by the waves like a beached whale. That's when it struck me that this haunting photo looked very much like some of the photos I had seen during my Internet search of the SS America.
So, why the interest, you may ask. In fact, the ship in the slide show is the former SS America on which my Mom, sisters and I crossed the Atlantic in 1963. I was 16 at the time. It so happened that the photo was taken very shortly after the ship had run aground in the Canary Islands in 1994, over 30 years later. I hadn't realize at the time we were aboard that we had been on one of the final Atlantic crossings while the ship still carried the proud name SS America.
I have a vague memory of some talk when we were on the ship that the United States Lines was thinking about selling the ship to another company. But that seemed unbelievable to me. After all, how could the United States even think about selling the ship which had been the symbol of America on the High Seas for over two decades?
Alas, it was indeed sold in 1964 to a foreign shipping company. In the 30 years that followed, it would change hands and names several times until a powerful Atlantic storm ripped it away from its towing boats en route to what was to be its hotel conversion. Adrift, it finally ran aground in the Canary Islands and that was the end of it. The photographer had been in the right place at the right time to catch the ship while it was still intact and basically upright. For very soon after the photo was taken, the opportunity to capture this moment in time was lost.
Looking at the photo of the iron carcass still leaves me with a melancholy feeling---wishing I could have gone to the Canary Islands to see the ship while it was still in one piece---an opportunity missed. Now there is nothing much to see. The ship split apart in the pounding waves shortly after running aground. Over what some have reported as being a ten-year period the ship finally sank in pieces. At low tide, only a small chunk of it can sometimes be seen sticking out of the water---a sad ending to a grand old lady.
So, if you happen to see the photo of the ship as the slide show drifts by on the Internet, make note that the SS America was once among the grandest ships on the High Seas. This one-time passenger in the spring of 1963 remembers her in her glory.
Here is a URL to the site with the ship's history along with photos in her prime and in her decline: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/SS_America_(1940) .
Monday, September 21, 2009
How's This Writing Thing Working For You?
Have you ever wondered how your books are doing out there in the world, "among the English" (as was noted in a popular movie a few years back)? Oh, sure, there's evidence in bits and pieces. But unless you have been Skyped on OPRAH, invited to speak at the Library of Congress---or, better yet, at the U.S. Mint---or are meeting the U.S. Poet Laureate for dinner this evening, the evidence is, shall we say, probably a bit sketchier. I'll just mention a few of the key indicators here.
For example, there is the quarterly royalty check. I've heard those things can go as high as $19.83 right after a school book sale. Family support is also critical. I once got a brief note from my Aunt Susie that she is holding two copies of my book for an autograph one day---you know, when I make the trip down to Tierra del Fuego where she is setting up a lending library among the Tierra del Fuegans.
Sales rankings are also a nice metric to reflect on, especially during the week immediately after the book is released---that's when there's a chance the one copy you bought on line to "prime the pump" will trigger a rank placement under one million. I used to let the rankings thing get me down but not any more. It's much more fun (read "less depressing") to declare the gargantuan number as actual sales---as in "Hey! Last week I sold 2,785,738!" I've decided not to worry too much that the royalty check is six months late, what with the almost monthly increase in postage rates of late. No doubt the check is so heavy it's permanently stuck in the "insufficient postage" loop.
Of course all those measures are important. I mean, I cherish the single comment from Bengladesh on my August 11, 2003 blog entry about my inspiration for writing my book on ants. But when I really want to know how my books are going to do or what impact they might have, it's best to get out there and put them in the hands of a child. Do a book reading or sign your books at a little table in an indie bookstore.
Watch the kids as their eyes scan over a display of books, flitting from one cover to another until they actually pick one up. Will they linger on the inside pages? Do they turn to look for Mom or Dad nearby to ask a question or show some particular discovery they have made right there in the book?
Yeah, there's a chance the book might go home with them on that day, with the author's well wishes and an autograph scribbled on the inside cover. But that really doesn't matter. I would rather the book speak to the child and that it might leave a lasting impression. Who knows? It could happen.
Here's to making those connections.
For example, there is the quarterly royalty check. I've heard those things can go as high as $19.83 right after a school book sale. Family support is also critical. I once got a brief note from my Aunt Susie that she is holding two copies of my book for an autograph one day---you know, when I make the trip down to Tierra del Fuego where she is setting up a lending library among the Tierra del Fuegans.
Sales rankings are also a nice metric to reflect on, especially during the week immediately after the book is released---that's when there's a chance the one copy you bought on line to "prime the pump" will trigger a rank placement under one million. I used to let the rankings thing get me down but not any more. It's much more fun (read "less depressing") to declare the gargantuan number as actual sales---as in "Hey! Last week I sold 2,785,738!" I've decided not to worry too much that the royalty check is six months late, what with the almost monthly increase in postage rates of late. No doubt the check is so heavy it's permanently stuck in the "insufficient postage" loop.
Of course all those measures are important. I mean, I cherish the single comment from Bengladesh on my August 11, 2003 blog entry about my inspiration for writing my book on ants. But when I really want to know how my books are going to do or what impact they might have, it's best to get out there and put them in the hands of a child. Do a book reading or sign your books at a little table in an indie bookstore.
Watch the kids as their eyes scan over a display of books, flitting from one cover to another until they actually pick one up. Will they linger on the inside pages? Do they turn to look for Mom or Dad nearby to ask a question or show some particular discovery they have made right there in the book?
Yeah, there's a chance the book might go home with them on that day, with the author's well wishes and an autograph scribbled on the inside cover. But that really doesn't matter. I would rather the book speak to the child and that it might leave a lasting impression. Who knows? It could happen.
Here's to making those connections.
Friday, March 20, 2009
Some Opportunities Are Just Plain Better Than Others....
Things seem to happen for a reason; sometimes quite unexpectedly, bringing joy in the most interesting forms. One day in 1992, I picked up a community weekly newspaper at a little hole-in-the-wall coffee shop after starting a new job with the State of California. I had recently changed jobs and work locations and my new work location away from the main headquarters held lots of interest given all of the opportunities to check things out on my walks to and from the bus stop.
Sitting in the coffee shop, I skimmed through the stories and ads in paper that day. The press of work had not yet caught up with me in my new job. As I sipped on a freshed squeezed cafe latte, there it was, a lonely little ad inside the back page: "Writer Wanted at community newspaper. Call for details or send resume and list of credits."
OK. So, the ad just got a smile out of me at first. Afterall, I hadn't majored in Journalism, didn't have a writing resume and couldn't boast of any writing credits---well, besides 20 years of business writing. Then, I thought, why not. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. Besides the coincidence was too strong that the paper was being run out of a small office only a block from my new job.
Fate couldn't have knocked on my door more loudly. Yet there was no joy when I stopped by with my professional resume which was chocked full of bureaucratic work experience and academic credentials. Did I mention none of it had anything much to do with writing? The scruffy-bearded publisher-editor-owner, sitting behind his manual type-writer in jeans and an open-collared shirt wasn't looking for a bureaucrat at the Suttertown News. And there I was in my brand new suit and tie, looking for all the world like the G-Man that I was.
But you know, sometimes an itch and a scratch are the very best of matches. Two weeks later I got a call from "Mr. Scruffy." Who cares that he was slightly desperate? I got my first assignment on a Wednesday with the final copy due the following Monday. And a week later, my second story became the cover story for the week. Soon after I was living the life and loving it, as a member of the editorial board, drinking free coffee with the rest of the gang, coming up with story ideas and making monumental news decisions for the "run on a shoestring" paper each week.
Thus began my three-year career in the newspaper business, chasing leads, pulling all-nighters to finish hot articles, joining paste-up parties the night before final copies went to the printers, and even making an occasional delivery to Espresso Metro, the little coffee shop downtown where I first caught the newspaper bug. The result was a momentary slice of Sacramento's history through the eyes of a novice journalist pretending as hard as he could to be a newspaperman.
If you get a similar chance to roll up your sleeves and get hands-on experience in journalism or in anything else that tickles your fancy, my advice is to jump first, then figure out what you are going to do....
Sitting in the coffee shop, I skimmed through the stories and ads in paper that day. The press of work had not yet caught up with me in my new job. As I sipped on a freshed squeezed cafe latte, there it was, a lonely little ad inside the back page: "Writer Wanted at community newspaper. Call for details or send resume and list of credits."
OK. So, the ad just got a smile out of me at first. Afterall, I hadn't majored in Journalism, didn't have a writing resume and couldn't boast of any writing credits---well, besides 20 years of business writing. Then, I thought, why not. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. Besides the coincidence was too strong that the paper was being run out of a small office only a block from my new job.
Fate couldn't have knocked on my door more loudly. Yet there was no joy when I stopped by with my professional resume which was chocked full of bureaucratic work experience and academic credentials. Did I mention none of it had anything much to do with writing? The scruffy-bearded publisher-editor-owner, sitting behind his manual type-writer in jeans and an open-collared shirt wasn't looking for a bureaucrat at the Suttertown News. And there I was in my brand new suit and tie, looking for all the world like the G-Man that I was.
But you know, sometimes an itch and a scratch are the very best of matches. Two weeks later I got a call from "Mr. Scruffy." Who cares that he was slightly desperate? I got my first assignment on a Wednesday with the final copy due the following Monday. And a week later, my second story became the cover story for the week. Soon after I was living the life and loving it, as a member of the editorial board, drinking free coffee with the rest of the gang, coming up with story ideas and making monumental news decisions for the "run on a shoestring" paper each week.
Thus began my three-year career in the newspaper business, chasing leads, pulling all-nighters to finish hot articles, joining paste-up parties the night before final copies went to the printers, and even making an occasional delivery to Espresso Metro, the little coffee shop downtown where I first caught the newspaper bug. The result was a momentary slice of Sacramento's history through the eyes of a novice journalist pretending as hard as he could to be a newspaperman.
If you get a similar chance to roll up your sleeves and get hands-on experience in journalism or in anything else that tickles your fancy, my advice is to jump first, then figure out what you are going to do....
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