I was going to write an addendum to that last post and then … well … the day got away from me as it seems to have everyday for the last four weeks (and I massively apologize if you are waiting for an email back from me.  My goal is to be caught up reading blogs and answering emails by the end of the weekend, but who knows what will happen to my good plans.)

I promise: I am not closing down my blog; it was merely pointing out that many of us have that thought from time to time, and I loved Andrea Ross’s speech about how we really have no sense of our blog’s reach.  We have comment numbers and visitor numbers and even emails from a reader from time to time, but like icebergs, most of the real facts are submerged underwater.  That everyone goes through frustrating times (and I agree, Vee, I think it’s seasonal too) where they are speaking and getting no feedback.  And on the other hand, we all have times where we hit a post out of the park and it gets a lot of attention — and we have no. clue. how. to. repeat. it. again.

Thank you, also, for being with me during the move.  When we were driving to my parent’s house for the final time, I was thinking to myself, “I can’t do this.”  I really didn’t think I’d be able to walk out the front door; that I’d ever be ready.  And suddenly, a Toyota pulls in front of my car with the license plate — UCNDOIT.  And like a fucking idiot, I start trying to decipher it, and I’m saying to myself, “University of California … Nursing Department … Or … Internet Technology … no, that doesn’t seem right … University of …”

Seriously.

We drove behind the car for several miles and it felt like my own private message from G-d.  So I went into the house thinking to myself that I could do this, I could walk through one more time and then say goodbye.  Except it seems like I was right the first time (sorry, Toyota, for wasting your fine message.)  I cried walking through the rooms, and finally realized that I simply couldn’t take in the enormity of never seeing the kitchen again, never seeing my room again, never seeing the tiling in the front hall again.  And I accepted that I’d never be ready and just had to walk out the door.  So I gave my dad a hug and kiss, thanking him for being a wonderful father in this house, and I left Josh and my dad behind to close up our lives there while I took the twins to meet my mum in the new apartment.

By two streets away, we had all stopped crying.  And a few exits on the highway and we all commented that we felt fine.  And then we moved my parents into their temporary apartment while their new house is being finished.  I haven’t watched the video again since the move mid-week.  It still doesn’t seem real, and at the same time, it feels wholly okay.  So maybe I can do it.

And thank you for the good thoughts on the new book.  I am really excited about it and I love, love, love the cover.  When I get the final version, I’ll post it here and on the book site.

*******

The loudest vote for celebrating the 300th Friday Blog Roundup seemed to be for cake (or, if you don’t want to bake or purchase a cake, you could take a picture of a cake in a bakery and walk out without tasting a slice, or simply down a few oreos and snap a picture of your cookie orgy.  The point is more to celebrate the Roundup and our community and have a built-in excuse to eat sugar.)  Which is actually, if you can remember back to June 2007, how we celebrated my first blogoversary.  We will hold the videos for the 333, which will be next spring.

Though first, I must admit something highly amusing that just happened as I wrote this.  As I did the math and realized that 33 posts later would be nearly 3/4th of a year away, I started wondering how I was hitting 300 Roundups in 4 years.  That just wasn’t possible since I started doing this a few weeks after the blog started and with 52 weeks in a year, I should be nearing on the 200th post.

And so I am.

Back in January/February of last year, the numbering jumps from #173 one week to #274 the next week.  In other words, I added one more to the first number as I was adding one more to the last number and in the end, aged the Roundup 100 posts.  I am not going to renumber the posts because it would be a pain in the ass, so the Roundup will be forever mis-numbered.  But this will be actually the 200th post of the Roundup (though it will say 300).

Queue slightly hysterical, overtired laughter.

I’d like to practice today with this new linky tool that Calliope uses for Photo Fridays before the big day.  If you have a picture of yourself on your blog (or on your computer) and can help me test this out, please click below and add your headshot with a link to your blog so we can all see how this works and troubleshoot since the actual 300th (well … 200th) Roundup will be during BlogHer and I’m not sure how much I’ll be online.

It seems fairly simple.  You (1) click on the link below. (2) Add the url of your blog. (3) Add the name of your blog. (4) Either give the url of the picture as it appears on your blog, OR upload a new image to the Linky Tool that is from your computer (see, it doesn’t even need to go on your blog).  That’s it — it should appear below.  And this practice list should close on Sunday.  So we’ll see if that’s the case.

Thank you to the heads floating above this sentence for helping me test this.

*******

The Weekly What If: What if you could either be given a free netbook or iPad tomorrow — which would you take and why?

Can you tell that I’m still trying to make this decision?  I like to hear what other people think are the benefits and drawbacks of each one (as well as opinions if you have either and how you primarily use it) because it helps me consider things from entirely new angles.

*******

And now, the blogs…

Baby Wanted: Apply Within has a post about where they are now, and how she thought life would be back when they started trying to build their family.  It is a simple, straightforward post, but I found it incredibly moving: the thought of what you don’t know and simply can’t imagine when you start down this road.

Impersonating Normal (formerly, Infertility Rocks!) has a post about faking a birthday wish for the sake of others.  She contrasts this current birthday with the one she celebrated last year, back when she was starting her lupron shots and had no idea how the year would unfold.  Again, it is a reminder of what we can’t possibly know about our future and how that fact makes us look back on past events with wonder and sometimes bittersweet sadness with what that earlier version of ourselves doesn’t know.

Lastly, Nuts in May asks at the end of a post this week: “So really, are any fertile people reading this? Who have read this far? Have I really pissed people off now?”  The discussion in the comment section is equally as interesting as the post.  Go jump in with your thoughts.

The roundup to the Roundup: This has been a crazy week (I’m not sure I could say it more succinctly than that.)  Celebrate with cake in two weeks for the 200th/300th post of the Roundup AND please help me test this linky tool today.  Answer the Weekly What If.  And lots of great posts to read.

We have all thought about simply deleting these spaces we create.  It’s not even in a particularly terrible moment, where the desire to walk away from blogging is understandable.  It comes in quiet moments, where we wonder what the point is of posting our thoughts online and taking that risk, using that time, plugging into that community.  We could just as easily write in a private journal.  Which would mean that we could record our life without considering how often we’re posting, or looking at our stats.

I think about it sometimes, so I know that you think about it sometimes.  And some of us do it; simply walk away from the blog and leave it collecting dust, or delete it, or shut it down to invite-only and then never give anyone beyond ourselves the ability to read.  We’ve thought about doing it ourselves and we’ve had it happen to us: that blog you loved reading that suddenly disappeared or the writer who stopped posting.

And we know how it feels when it happens to us, so we try not to do it to anyone else.

Of course, sometimes that reasoning simply isn’t enough.

I love Andrea Ross’s thoughts on what we believe to be irrelevance when it comes to blogs.  I got to participate in her project a few years ago, and though I didn’t tell her at the time, because I’m not sure I even realized it consciously at the time, is that speaking about Norton Juster’s book connected me to why I wrote.  It is perhaps what gets me over those thoughts when I consider walking away from this space.  This was my contribution to Just One More Book Please:

[audio:https://www.stirrup-queens.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/07/just.mp3]

And Andrea Ross contesting irrelevance.

I put this up because it reminded me how we need to tell people how much their blog means–and we don’t even need to do this directly; we can do this through our actions of reading and commenting and linking.  All of it gets the point across.  Because the reality is that no blog is irrelevant, just as no life is irrelavant.  The entire blogosphere changes any time a new blog enters or an old blog leaves.  And my life is a better place because I’m connected to all of you through words.

I’m in the heart of my parent’s move from my childhood home right now, both physically and emotionally.  This is the last day I will get to stand in my old bedroom and look at the wallpaper and carpet I chose as my Bat Mitzvah present (hey, wait a second, these people buying the house get MY Bat Mitzvah present?)

It feels a little bit like losing my grandmother, when I realized that I had to ask her all the questions I may possibly want to know in my life time because she wasn’t going to be here down the road.  And while I had this realization and it kept me up at night, wracking my brain for questions to ask, I also knew that there was no way to predict what I’d want to possibly know or how many times I’d wish I could be in touch with her again.

And at the same time, this is nothing like losing my grandmother.  A house is a static place, not a living, breathing human.  I walked through the rooms with a video camera and Josh set the 12 minutes of footage to music. I loaded it on my iTouch, a virtual tour of my childhood.

I am trying to remember the layout of the rooms and the places where we were standing when certain announcements were given.  I told my parents I was pregnant in that kitchen.  I found out my great-grandfather died when walking through that door.  I took my engagement photos on that deck.  And yet I know that moments will pop up in the future when I can’t remember the colour of the flowers on the wallpaper or the size of a room and it won’t be on the video because I didn’t think to train the camera on the space in question.  And I’ll have to simply let it go and understand that there is no way to return to the past.  This is, obviously, much less about the house and more about saying goodbye to all the spaces that hold reminders of past people and events.

There is a small hiding space that creates a bubble between three rooms: the guest room, my parent’s room, and the laundry room.  This space is tiny–probably under three feet by six feet–and it is usually empty except for drying laundry hanging from a hook.  I used to bring my guitar into this space and sit on top of my foot stool (back when my ass was small enough to balance on top of a guitar foot stool).  It was my crying space.  I don’t know what it means if the first thing I think about is that I’m going to miss the sad places in the house.

I will also miss the happy places: the kitchen table, the living room, the space behind the sofa, my bedroom closet.  How I once stood at my bedroom window and watched a boy I liked show up for a date an hour early and just ride his bike around the cul de sac, waiting for the right time to knock on our door.  Our old television that I could turn on and off by screaming at the right pitch.  The time we threw disappearing ink on my cousin as he came down the steps, dressed for an interview at a law firm.  Meetings with my sister in our bathroom.

I am saying goodbye to a house.

I am also saying hello to the new book.  But wait, you think, Life from Scratch isn’t coming out until December 1, 2010.  Isn’t this a little early to be saying hello to the new book?  Well, life has sort of been in high gear for the last few weeks because my book was chosen by Mediabistro for its book club.

Which means an event in New York on August 17th and a reading and new galleys printed.  Which means creating the book site and throwing out ideas for the cover design and edits and tweaks and all sort of loose ends.

Which is 2000 kinds of cool, but also a little crazy because it was unexpected.  Calliope received an email from me in the morning, and by evening, we had built this site together over the phone.  Seriously, this woman is amazing and brilliant, and as Lindsay did for building Stirrup Queens, Calliope held my hand through the whole thing and didn’t even laugh at me when I started panting that building a website was too hard.  If you ever need website help (especially headers), you should hire her.  It’s worth every penny to not have to bang your head against the wall.

And if you were wondering what the hell my book is even about (and you can go on the book site and read an excerpt right now), from the blurb on Galleycat:

Nine months after Rachel Goldman’s divorce, she gives birth to a cooking project as well as a blog that helps her find her voice that was missing during her married years. Life from Scratch is an enjoyable read about not only learning how to grab your own happiness, but also, how to fry your own egg. An amateur chef and popular blogger herself, Ford is the author of the award-winning website, Stirrup Queens. Her blog has been recognized by the Wall Street Journal as one of the top ten motherhood blogs.

The reading is open to the public as long as you RSVP and I believe you will go home with a copy of the uncorrected galleys.  A collectors item!  You can RSVP for the event here.  And then let me know you’re coming.

So…goodbye and hello.

There was no weekend to my weekend.  Just a blur of work and tasks from the week before blending into the work and tasks of the weekend which is currently blending into the work and tasks of this current week.

And always, like the thumping base that drives dance music, there is the worry: who the hell is planning this Sunday get together in New York?

No, seriously, what are we doing?  Because currently, there is no plan in place.

Though a series of questions have been asked: who is welcome to come?  Obviously, anyone in the ALI community.  Is everyone cool if people bring partners in tow?  I’m assuming yes?  Okay, well, what about kids?  This is the sticky question and there isn’t going to be an answer that works for everyone.  Perhaps someone can take a vote?

And pick a spot that is not dependent on weather, that can accommodate 20+ people, and be inexpensive.  Because the bartender is drowning.

Wait, the other thing, please yank up a chair and tell us how you’ve been this past month.  Especially since not everyone is meeting up in NY this summer.  We can still meet up online right here.

As always, it has been about a month since we met, bitched, cried, comforted, and caught up each other on our cycles and lives. Pull up a seat and I’ll pour you a drink. Let everyone know what is happening in your life. The good, the bad, the ugly. My only request is that if a story catches your eye, you follow it back to the person’s blog and start reading their posts. Give some love, give some support, or laugh with someone until your drink comes out of your nose.

I have a ton of assvice in my back pocket and as a virtual bartender, I will give it to you unless you specifically tell me that this is simply a vent and you do not want to receive anything more than a hug.

So if you have been a lurker for a while (or if this is your first open bar), sit down and tell us about yourself. Remember to provide a link or a way for people to continue reading your story (or if you don’t have a blog–gasp!–you can always leave an email address if you’re looking for advice or support. If not, people can leave messages for that person here in the comments section too). If you’re a regular at the bar, I’ll get out your engraved martini glass while you make yourself comfortable. And anyone new, welcome. I’m glad you found this virtual bar.

For those who have no clue what I’m talking about when I say that the bar is open, click here to catch up and then jump into the conversation back on this current post.

So have an imaginary cocktail and tell us what is up with your life.

Welcome back to your Do-it-Yourself MFA program.

This installment assumes that you’ve signed with an agent.  If you’ve exhausted your list and you haven’t found an agent and still wish to publish, you’ll need to wait for the next installment.  Similarly, some will decide to skip the agent step altogether and you’ll find the next installment on small presses and self-publishing more helpful.

So, you’ve signed an agency agreement–now what?  Sometimes, an agent will ask you to do an edit on a manuscript or proposal and it’s in your best interests to do so.  They are trying to make it as strong as possible for the sale.  But after that, your work is somewhat done for the moment.

Up until this point, you’ve been taking a very active role, and now is your time to step back and let your agent guide the sale.  This is not to say that you can’t help brainstorm and throw out a few publishers you’d love to work with, but if you trust your agent (and you should), you’ll know that she is putting together the best list possible of publishers who might want your book.

Your agent will have a particular method–she may make a few calls to specific publishers and offer them a first look.  She may send it out to a list of ten possible publishers and wait for offers.  Your agent will probably keep you in the loop by telling you which publishers are looking at your manuscript or proposal.

I have always found this part of publishing the worst part.  On the first day, you’re really excited over the idea that this! could! be! it! but after you get your first rejection, the reality that having an agent doesn’t guarantee a sale and that all you have now is a new hoop to jump through can be a bit nerve-wracking.  My advice–let yourself feel whatever you’re going to feel and remind yourself that this is a finite space.  Either the book will sell or not sell, but you will not need to endure this anxiety indefinitely.

If your agent receives more than one offer, they may auction the book, taking the best offer.  If you receive one offer, your agent should still close up loose threads with other publishers still holding your book.  Again, your agent will keep you in the loop and ask your opinion before they make any binding decisions.

If you are publishing with a small press or big six publisher (in other words, anything other than self-publishing), your offer will come with an advance–that’s pretty much the only information you learn with the offer. Your advance can be tiny–$1–or enormous–$1 million.  You may be thinking that everyone obviously wants the million dollar advance, but not so fast, my friend.

An advance is money you can live on while you work on the book.  It is an advance payment of money the publisher believes the book will earn once it hits the shelves.  Usually, the larger the advance, the more money the publisher believes they will make in the long-run.  But what if the publisher is wrong and the book tanks?  Just because the publisher thinks the public is hungry for this book doesn’t make it so.  If the author can’t produce sales that warrant the big advance, their next book will receive a small advance…or no advance at all.  In other words, their career may somewhat be over before it has begun.

As an article in New York magazine points out, it’s better to have no sales record than a bad sales record.

With smaller presses, the advance will probably be smaller as well, but the trade off is passion and personal attention.  It’s not that the big six publishers don’t bring that passion to their authors, but it is difficult to be a midlist author at a large publisher and not get lost in the shuffle.  Think of it like the coins in your purse–you don’t put a lot of thought into the pennies, though you probably care about your quarters–and all of those coins are jumbled around together.  Publishers also need pennies–all those pennies add up–but they don’t put their energy and marketing dollars into pennies.

The other thing to consider is royalties.  You do not begin to see royalties on the book until the publisher recoups the advance.   Which means that the advance may need to last for a very long time–more than two or three years from the signing of that contract depending on the size of the advance and book sales (and how long it takes a publisher to get the book out on the shelf.)  Hence why I said back in that first installment that book publishing just isn’t a good way to try to support yourself exclusively.

So, you hear the advance amount and you agree to the deal and now your agent’s true work begins.  Your agent will negotiate all the various aspects of the contract, trying to retain as many rights for you as possible and make the contract work in your favour down to how much time you have to do edits to the rate you’ll be paid in the future if the common royalty rate for e-book sales change.  Seriously, there is so much to consider, and this is why I made that point a few installments ago that publishers want to negotiate with agents and not you.  And frankly, your agent is going to do a better job at retaining rights and making your world better than you’ll be able to do negotiating with the publisher directly–even if you think you’re qualified because you have a law degree or an MFA.

After the contract is negotiated (which can take a bit of time), you will sign the contract and start talking directly with the editor and/or publisher.

Um…okay…though here is another possibility and it’s worth talking about in case it comes up.  What if you’re having problems with your agent?  What if everything seemed fantastic when you signed with her and now things are unraveling and you’re not working well together at all?  Not being able to sell the book is not the sign of a bad agent (since not all books will sell), but if you are feeling uncomfortable, getting a sense that your agent doesn’t have your back, or your agent is blowing you off, you do have the right to end that relationship and start over from scratch.

There will be details in your agency agreement stating how to end the relationship (always in writing!) and how long you have to wait to look for a new agent (usually 30 days) as well as what happens if your agent already had a deal in hand for you.  There should be a very good reason for why you are ending the relationship and not a general, “maybe she’s not doing a good job and someone else could do better.”

Okay class, any questions on what was discussed here? Please leave them in the comment section below and I will answer them in the comment section below. Keep in mind that I have a lot of topics to cover so your question may be answered in a future installment (see below). So keep your questions about that period of time when you’re trying to sell the book.

Heads Up and Looking Back: topics that will be covered in future installments or that were covered in past installments

1. Before You Even Get Started

2. Are You Ready to Be an Author?

3. How to Write a Non-Fiction Book Proposal

4. Why You Need an Agent

5. How to Get an Agent

6. Querying Agents

7. THIS POST

8. No Agent? Other Paths to Publication

9. What to Expect After You Sign a Book Deal

10. Be Your Own Publicist

11. A Mishmash of Leftover Questions and Answers