The Secret of how to Write and Publish a Book in Three Simple Steps

Here is a "scenario" about how you **could** write a book.

You could be in the middle of a conversation with one of your dearest friends, talking about laundry soap or who-knows-what and suddenly all the stars align and you know the next topic of conversation.

"Hey, we should write a book together."

Obviously.

Beloved friend, without breaking stride responds something like this, "YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS, how have we never done this before? I mean, we kind of have, but this-yes, LET'S. Let's start NOW."

Did I mention that you're self-employed and work 60ish hours a week and that she has a newborn? Should I mention that I live in Brantford, Ontario and she lived in South Africa?

Okay, cool, cool. Just so we're all on the same page.

...fast forward two years and here we are. PEOPLE, WE ARE ALMOST FULLY DONE WITH DRAFT ONE. And yes, I just yelled that. Sorry, not sorry.

In fact, we are meeting up next month to have our first, in-person editing session in her current hometown of Omaha.

Lindsay Blake (spoiler alert, she's my book-writing second half) is full of energy and drive. When I'm feeling over this whole book-writing-scheme and under-inspired, she sends me encouraging messages full of butt-kicking and hope.

She is forever positive, hilarious and an amazingly talented writer. Thank God for her in my life and on this venture.

We message constantly about new ideas, annoying things our characters insist on doing (sometimes they're just dumb) or when we're simply stuck.

When I feel overwhelmed with how much we still have to do, she tells me we can do it together. When she tells me this is all a bit crazy, I do nothing to dissuade her because I fully agree. But still we go forward together.

Thank you, Linds; I love you to the moon and back.

For the past two years we've texted, FaceTimed, stopped writing, started writing, started crying. All these months later. finally seeing the book take shape feels incredibly good.

I have a list of "hardest things I've done in my life" which is a topic for another blog, but writing this book is not yet on the top five list. Maybe it is on the top ten. I do have a feeling we have a few more miles to cover with this gem and that it might creep its way onto that first list after all.

I'll keep you posted.

If you don't hear from me much in the next few days, it's because I have hours and hours blocked out over the weekend to clear my head, focus on our characters and simply write to the very best of my ability.

I

can't

wait.

My dad's been telling for me ages that I should write a book, and I hope he's not the only one who still believes it once this gets printed.

Oh yeah-we definitely want to get this published. We spend a lot of time dialoguing about what we'll say in interviews. And this isn't because we're particularly arrogant or delusional; it's mostly because we're writing our hearts out and believe in crazy dreams.

So I guess I would say that the secret of how to write (and publish!) a book goes a little something like this:

1. write

2. write some more

3. don't get too attached to anything you've written, be willing to delete anything and write some more.

You're welcome. And no, you can't borrow Lindsay. I mean, I don't own her or anything, but we have a few more book ideas in the works, so I think she'll be a little busy.

x.

p.s. In case you were wondering, an excerpt:

We were halfway to the airport when I nearly ran off the road as I braked.

“Did you remember the Leica?” I can’t believe it took me this long to ask. I felt myself start to sweat.

She rolled her eyes. “I will not deign to answer.”

“Did you remember,” she stopped me short with one finger on my lips and the other on the volume knob.

“I remember how much I love this song,” she leaned back into her seat, closed her eyes and sank into the music.

She has always been sassy.

Busy as a Bee: a re-post

My friend Lindsay gave me the honour of guest blogging on her site a few times in 2014 and I thought I'd share some of the love here.

People are always telling me “I understand, you’re busy.”

You’re busy.

We’re too busy.

Life is just busy.

Life is too busy.

You’re too busy.

Stop it.

Stop it right now.

Mauna Kea, the Big Island

Busy:

I loathe the word, the idea, the reality.

In fairness, when I was much younger, I went and went and went…and then went some more. I was motion personified, the Energizer Bunny 2.0. And I liked it. 

In uni, I took a full course load of classes, was crazy active in my church, worked 60 hours a pay period. I had time for everything except sleep. I didn’t even know how to sit still through a movie-I had to knit or work on something with my hands. Then I felt accomplished.

But to be honest, by the time I sat down to watch a movie, I usually just fell asleep.

This drive to Go and Do was compounded when I spent years volunteering and conversely being supported by a tiny handful of hardworking (and I mean very hardworking) souls. In this season I always felt the need to prove I was making their hard-earned money count. I felt I couldn’t take breaks, slow down, rest or stop.

Unknowingly, I carried this idea into our marriage. When Jonathan and I were just starting our business, we definitely had our slow days. Not the “slow days” when there was stuff to do, just the unwanted kind. But slow days when there was nothing to do. Nada zilch. Hello thumbs, let me twiddle you.

We looked in every gloomy nook and cranny, stooped too low and searched too far for work.

But that’s a story for another time.

The point was that there was this insane, incessant drive I had to prove to everyone that we weren’t being lazy, just hanging out.

And Jonathan had to sit me down more than once and inform me that we didn’t answer to anyone except each other. And that, working insane hours to build a business aside, we were humans and partners and friends and family first and foremost and that mattered most of all.

Oh. …Right.

So if these grey hairs o’ mine prove anything, it’s that I’ve lived enough years to have learned a few lessons. Most of them the hard way, but that too is a story for another blog.

And although, achieving is one of my strengths, it is also one of my weaknesses. But now I finally, fully understand, (in part a credit to my nap-and-break-loving husband) that

it’s okay to slow down.

it’s okay to rest.

it’s okay to stop.

In fact, it’s needed.

And he has a lot fewer white hairs than me, so he is obviously doing something right.

Okay, so we’re going to do something a teensy bit crazy now. Everyone turn of your phones, your pagers, your Game Boys, your DVDs. Turn the TV and radio off, the Wii too.

And we’re going to all say this out loud together. 1-2-3 go:

Rest is happy.

Rest is good.

Rest restores the soul.

That was terrible. Try it once more.

Hmmmm. Okay, that didn’t work, but you get the idea.

And moving on….

Sure, we work 50-70 hours a week; we’re in the middle of starting a business.

Sure, I sometimes wish I could have an extra 10 hours in any given day.

Sure, we don’t get to party our life away or be excessively social.

Sure I often wish I could live seven lifetimes because of all that I want to see and do and experience.

But we fight to keep all the things that matter-long morning cuddles every chance we get, leisurely dinners with friends, quiet nights to read and write. We fight for simplicity, embrace even the small moments of grace, look for the beauty and peace in the swirl of any day.

Sabrina, "More isn't always better, Linus. Sometimes it's just more.”

Bam.

Enough said.

So drink a glass of wine tonight, shut your computer an hour early, find a cozy nook to watch the sunrise or sunset, hold your lover’s hand. Find a space of rest for your soul. Stop in the whirl of your week to just pause, look around you and see the magnificence that is your life. Say “no” to something good so you can say “Yes!” to something great. Breathe in deep and let the minutes linger. And then do it again.

And again.

You won’t regret it. I promise.