Epic Publishing Failure

You don’t have to fail to succeed.

 

However, when you do fail, it’s not the end of the world. Learn from your mistakes and move forward.

 

Part 1

My Story, as a writer, began with an idea for an Epic story, and it nearly ended because of an Epic failure.

Several years ago, I finally got to a place in my life to where I had plenty of free time to sit down and write a novel. It was a struggle at first, mainly because I heedlessly jumped into the deep end, and quickly learned that writing a novel was a lot tougher than I ever imagined.

I spent a month writing the first paragraph – that’s how ignorant I was.

More than a few times, I just wanted to give up and toss in the towel, but I powered on and finished the first draft. The next step, I read the entire novel aloud to my wife, one chapter every day, correcting errors along the way.

Once that part was over, I foolishly believed I had a novel that was ready to be published.

I was wrong – undeniably wrong.

The euphoric feeling of finishing a novel is amazing. I had never experienced anything like it before, and for those who know, it’s a dam good feeling.

I queried agents – and after I got rejected numerous times, I decided to self-publish and prove to the publishing world they were wrong.

 

This is what Failure looks like.

Part 2

More Editing? Why? I corrected all the errors.

No, I corrected what my eyes and mind wanted me to see.

Ignorance is Bliss – the Ecstasy that clouds all rational thought.

I got a nice cover and self-published my first novel, and put it on Amazon for the entire world to buy and read. I also had 50 copies printed – 25 hardback and 25 paper back. I even set up a book signing at a local library. What I didn’t do, and to this day I don’t know why; look inside and read my great literary work of art. No, no, I mindlessly went to the book signing and sold some books.

And then, . . . it happened.

Sadly, I have a picture of when it happened.

A person who bought my book, opened it, silently read a few pages, and then asked, “Who edited this?”  

Slowly and painfully, the euphoria I had felt, immediately turned into absolute embarrassment, as I opened my book and read the same pages. (I quickly packed up and left)

The next day, my only thought was about how can I fix it. Sure, just contact Amazon and have them take it down. Unfortunately, a few books were purchased already. There was nothing I could do about that; the damage was done. It eventually got pulled down.

The embarrassment isn’t over yet, . . .

The worse part, if that’s even possible, I gave a few books to family members and bragged about my great accomplishment on the family Facebook page. It wasn't a delight experience. I can still hear the unspoken words at every family gathering.

 

Moving on, . . .

I could have given up, after all, my name was ruined, along with my reputation, what little of it there was. I reckon most would have quit and absorbed the shame for how ever long folks remembered.

But that’s not me. I had to fix it! So, I got right back up on the horse and got to work, but this time, I contacted a friend who knew a thing or two about editing. I rewrote the first book, and wrote another and another – and a Trilogy was born.

15 years and six books later, I’m still writing, and working on a seventh book.

 

The day my writing career turned for the better

Nothing is over until you say it’s over. The embarrassment and public humiliation hurt for a time, but for me, it was just another chapter in the story of my life.

I’m not uncomfortable sharing my failure, because it’s the truth. I made a mistake. It happens and I moved on. I not a better writer because of what happened, I'm simply smarter about the process.

 

The best advice I could ever give to a young writer – find an editor you can trust.

Oh, and always write like you mean it.

 

jk

 

Meaningful Intent

Books are awake dreams that take us to far-away places.

Words and their narratives are the extensions of a writer’s vision, destined to be experienced by an eager audience. Embrace the wonder of the words you read, welcome the mysteries they provide, and delight in endless tales of the unexpected.

      Be a gentle reader.

The pages of a book are the pavement your imagination walks upon; turn them with care so others may follow in your path.

Bewilderment surrounds each chapter read, and swelling enthusiasm ignites spirited anticipation of hopeful outcomes. Plots twist. Hero’s rise. Villain's fall. And love is lost and found.

If at story's end brings a tender tear or despair of the final outcome, rejoice and be content. Conclusion of the last word read should neither be happy nor sad, a book blissfully consents you read another and another.

Only when stars cease to shine and inflamed inspiration dims will books be silenced. Until such time, the written word will forever have meaningful intent.

-jk-

On the journey taken, sometimes a memory is not enough, therefore a souvenir is a must – perhaps a book, written for all of us. 

Forever keep your books safe from harm. 

Previously Published

1/8/15 11:58 AM

Christmas Present Miracle

 

It’s that time of the year again, when I head over to the home of the Old Man on the Porch for a Christmas Story.

 

“Hey, Old Man, I sure would like to hear one of your famous Christmas Stories.”

“I reckon I could tell you one, ‘cause I be knowing you won’t leave until I do,” he stated with a slight smile.

 

The Old Man took a deep breath, exhaled, and then commenced, . . .

 

Many years ago, there was this young boy, who went to the grocery store every day after school, rain, or shine. He would stand by the door and ask folks for the pennies in their pockets or coin purses.

Some folks obliged, others did not. On a good day he would collect between five and ten pennies. Occasionally, a person would ask him what he wanted to buy with the pennies. The boy always answered, “I want to buy my sister a present for Christmas.”

Most folks thought he was lying to con them into giving him more money, but a few would give him an extra nickel or dime.

Now, I know you’re wondering why the boy was so committed to the task of buying his sister a Christmas present. Well, truth be told, the boy, along with his mother and father live in an old two room house on the edge of town. His father worked in the coal mines and barely made enough money to feed the family. The boy’s sister, Mary, was diagnosed with incurable cancer and was in the hospital-and there was a strong chance she would not live to see another Christmas.

The Love Bear

When Mary and her brother used to walk to and from school each day, they always walk by the drug store, because in the display window, there was a large, stuffed pink bear. Mary loved seeing the bear and every day, her brother told Mary that he would buy it for her someday. Mary knew he couldn’t, but she liked imaging that he could.

Summer came and gone and Christmas was fast approaching. The boy, as he had done every day after asking for pennies at the grocery store, went by the drug store window to make sure the bear was still there, before visiting his sister.

He always told Mary he saw the bear, knowing it would make her smile.

On the day before Christmas Eve, the boy counted all the money he had collected and when he was done, he smiled – finally, he had enough to buy the bear! He hurried to the store and bought the bear.

Christmas morning, the boy, anxious to give the bear to his sister, woke up early and rushed to the hospital. When he arrived, he was surprised to see his father and mother were already there. His mother was crying and his father was talking to a priest. Mary, . . .

Now, I know what you’re thinking; you’re thinking Mary died. Quite the contrary. She was alive and sitting up in the bed, with a big smile on her face. The reason why she was smiling was because the doctor had just told her the cancer in her body was completely gone, and she was looking at her brother, Thomas, who was holding the Large Pink Bear.

I reckon some folks will tell you Mary’s amazing recovery was a Miracle, but I prefer to believe it was a brother’s love for his sister that cured her.

 

“Isn’t your name, Thomas?” I asked the Old Man.

“It is,” he replied with a smile.

 

Merry Christmas!

Love is the best present you can give.

j/k