Sympathy For Theater Folks

I always did sympathize with theater folks, but now I really empathize. Imagine spending months creating and rehearsing a show, with the nervous anticipation of opening night, only to have it panned and closed down in a couple of weeks. What solid personalities it must take to survive that attack on one's creativity and self-esteem. Oh sure, it's really bad for the pocketbook as well, but imagine the takedown as your own creative blood, sweat, tears, and anticipation are dumped (and dumped on).

I guess it takes the same kind of personal strength to be a successful politician. The public, like theater audiences, feel perfectly free to attack with destructive words. I really wonder, in a very personal sense, what it takes to keep on.

Or, on a more life-threatening level, what does it take to be Morris Deese of the Southern Poverty Law Center and have your life constantly threatened because of your dedicated fight against hate and the crimes that attach to it. In fact, I also admire the strength of the people who work to protect women's health at Planned Parenthood. And I know I haven't listed everyone, but I hope you get the idea.

So, why the empathy? Well, here's the story. Several people (I swear it's more than 7) have told me they ordered Mrs. Job on line. And when I follow the ranking for Mrs. Job at barnesandnoble.com, her numbers look a heck of a lot better than my forgiveness books, which pretty much hold up the bottom of the scale. But when I called iUniverse, I was told that a total of 7 books had been sold between amazon.com, barnesandnoble.com, and orders from bookstores. The downer didn't last too long, maybe because Mrs. Job isn't my whole life, but I did get cranky and depressed for a few days. Then I decided that maybe sales records get delayed. I still also keep checking amazon.com for reviews people have told me they would write. Oh, is that using hope as a cure?

Whatever, I have really come to appreciate people who live with this kind of exposure to negative responses to their work.

I guess my better mood now can also be attributed to the fact that I think I have pretty much mastered my new Palm/Verizon phone. Whew! And the emergencies that came up with my billing program, costing a couple of hours of telephone time, and other computer related problems, have been resolved -- at least for the moment.

So now I'm free to do other stuff, like write this blog, and follow up on the 186 press releases sent out by iUniverse re Mrs. Job. I also plan today to check on the possibility of getting a tote bag with a photo of Mrs. Job's cover on it. I've already updated my brochures. I read somewhere that a best-selling author, on being asked what it takes to be a best-selling author, responded, "You have to be the best seller."

Thanks for listening.

Author's postpartum depression?

I diagnosed it last Thursday when I returned from my early morning visit to Curves, ate breakfast, and went back to bed. Fortunately I remembered I had a client coming, so I was showered and dressed in time to see her. So, is there such a thing as author's postpartum depression?

I guess publishing a book, apparently especially a book of fiction, is like giving birth to a child. You just want everyone to tell you it's the most beautiful baby that was ever born -- well, at least among the most beautiful. And the truth is, she has received some really nice complements. Take what Pastor Brenda Legred had to say, for example. I quote, with her permission, "I just finished Mrs. Job and loved it! The dialogue is so real and so beautiful. The depth of relationships is profound. Thank you for gifting this book to the world!" And she didn't have to send me that e-mail. I have to admit, though, that she is herself a walking halo.

But then there's the woman who planned to refer to Mrs. Job, even read some parts from it, when she did devotions at a friend's shower. She actually requested some to take along to sell to others. Or there's the friend who bought five copies to give for gifts and took some along to sell. So, that's pretty good, right? And I had a really good time at a book sale as part of a program at Shepherd of the Hill Presbyterian Church up the hill from me here in Chaska. And some books even sold. So, why am I so greedy?

People ask me how sales are going, and I have to answer that I don't know. Locally Mrs. Job is certainly not being rejected, and I guess I won't know about the rest of the world until I get a quarterly statement in April. And I hope people will catch on that Mrs. Job is a good read -- not a religious document. And I certainly won't sell a lot if I don't get on with the marketing. But I hope my royalty check is a little larger than the $1.69 I received recently for "Forgiving One Page at a Time."

Ah, marketing! iUniverse has sent out 186 press releases to media sources. Now I'm supposed to follow up with phone calls. Ooh! That does feel overwhelming. Not that I haven't done anything about it. The publishers of my forgiveness books have agreed that they will send copies to media sources if requested, so now it's my job to make sure I mention them as well as Mrs. Job when I make those calls.

How did I get here anyway? I'm a college professor, a therapist. How did I get into this author business? But that's what makes life so delightful, isn't it. We just don't know where our callings will lead us. And I am having fun.

But tomorrow I'm off to enjoy my son and my granddaughter, music of the Minnetonka Choral Society, dinner out, and a trip to St. Olaf to return KJ to school after her Spring break with her mom and dad.

Life is good. I have my work cut out for me. I doubt that I'll be heading for bed again during the day. But I will go for afternoon naps on my black leather couch.

Thanks for listening/reading... I'll keep you posted.

Mona

I'm really doubtful that what I say today will be interesting to most of you. Mostly it's about frustration with Facebook and trying very hard to market Mrs. Job, but there is also the hope for progress with the Chaska Restorative Practices Action Group.

What about facebook? Well, apparently in transferring from Tiger to Leopard on my Mac I've created a problem that the automated facebook creature out there simply can't deal with. When I try to log on, it tells me I've got the wrong password, so I click on "get a new password." Then it tells me my e-mail isn't registered, so I try to register it, and it tells me I can't do that because I'm already registered. With the help of my Mac guru, I've tried all kinds of things. If I want to keep my old computer around just for the sake of facebook, then I could get by. But for obvious reasons I don't want to do that.  I'm still hoping for a solution. I do not like to be trapped in a catch-22.

And about marketing Mrs. Job. I've done lots of things, but didn't get to others yet, like visiting the local bookstores to ask about book signings. 

Pastor Gordon Stewart of Shepherd of the Hill Presbyterian Church up the hill from me here in Chaska has scheduled a book signing for March 20 for me, along with Dr. Jan Adams of Maria's Children International who will tell the story of the woman in Moscow whose curiosity about the children in Orphanage #113 led to the arts rehabilitation program for warehoused children left by the roadside as useless to society. The wonderful paintings of Maria's Children now line the walls of Shepherd of the Hill and will be there for viewing and for purchase. I think I'll be with inspiring company.

I've done some really bold things, like e-mailing Krista Tippett of MPR in the hope she might be interested in an interview, offering to do a book signing while on the Baltic cruise this summer with Holland America Line, sending a copy of Mrs. Job to a theologian who has written a book on why the Book of Job tells us nothing about the problem of suffering, and stuff like that.  Not surprisingly I've received no responses, but the worst that can happen is no response. I had intended to send a copy to Garrison Keillor, and I will in the future, but right now I don't want to intrude on his grief over the accidental death of his brother.

Just a few minutes ago I received the copy of the book I discovered on Amazon.com, "Meet Mrs. Job" by Carolyn L. Reynolds. I guess I'll have to forgive myself for not finding it earlier, since it was published in 2003. Glancing at it, I see she was on the same wavelength as I am. I'll write a review on Amazon.com. At least I can give it that appreciation.

As for the Chaska Restorative Practices Action Group, I feel like a very small part of a very ambitious project beginning in November with an all-day workshop. The ultimate goal is to bring restorative practices to our community. What a wonderful alternative to the expensive punitive procedures our society seems to be so enamored with now.

Finally, for any of you who get wrapped up in computer-related stuff, I hope you can sympathize with all it takes to bring my records into sync with the new formats required. The most fun, though, is my birthday present which I had requested last year from Doug and Lisa. It wasn't available for the Mac until recently, but now I have it. That's why I went from Tiger to Leopard, 'cause my new toy demands it. It's a Livescribe Pulse Pen -- really fun. As I take notes on the appropriate paper it also records the meeting. Then, when I go back to write the minutes. I can tap on particular words and it plays back to me what was said. I used it on Tuesday at our JustFaith+ meeting at Mount Calvary Lutheran Church. The minutes I managed to put together using it are probably the most complete I've yet come up with.

OK. At least I didn't neglect my blog today. 

Oh yes, I wish I knew who Mary is who has made such kind comments

Mrs. Job makes her debut

She's looking good -- in both hard cover and soft cover. She's now available on

http://www.amazon.com

http://www.barnesandnoble.com

http://www.iUniverse.com

She should be coming up soon on Border's books.

or at your bookstore.

I like her a lot.  I hope you will too. If you do, it would be great if you would write a review on amazon.com, or one of the other sites.

My cousin Eunice died on January 31

Eunice died on January 31. 2009  in Bethlehem, PA. Her children notified me by e-mail. I had met one of her daughters, but her other children were known to my only by her reports. I last saw Eunice a few years ago when I attended a restorative practices weekend in Bethlehem. (For some stupid reason it took me a while to catch on to the reason why everyone called it the Christmas town.) She treated me like royalty, hiring someone to drive me into the city each day from her home. We had a great time together. Funny how little difference years make, and it had been years since we saw each other. 

Eunie was tethered to oxygen in her front hall, but it didn't slow her down much. She even had a tidy carrying case so she could take her oxygen with her when she went out. At bedtime she carried the "tether" up to her bedroom. Every morning she spent time on her stationary bike before heading downstairs. There she spent the day in a sunny bright room that had been added on to the original house. Her office/home base was a table provided with everything she needed to stay in communication with people and to do her work for her Lutheran church. She did have a helper who shopped, cleaned, and cooked for her. (At least, that's my understanding of how things were.)

Eunie's red hair and freckles never disappeared, advertising the Irish side of her heritage. To me, she was my younger cousin, but not by much. Back in Forestville we enjoyed a large Anderson family -- playing pick-up-sticks at Aunt Gerda and Uncle Everett's -- enjoying weekend camping with them at Hammonasett State Park (my spelling may be wrong) -- getting special treatment at church when missionaries came and dressed us up in native costume -- helping to fill the home of Grandma and Grandpa Anderson at Christmas time. Grandma knit each of her grandchildren a pair of mittens every year, and each of her children had a lovely quilt made by her own hands. We played with my neighbor and best friend Hallie who predeceased Eunice by several years. But Forestville sent its people out far and wide, so at one point there were twenty-five years between times that Eunie and I saw each other. I surprised my self with the burst of tears when I heard she had died.

There weren't many people for me to notify when I got the news: my sister Thelma, My cousin Joy, my niece Nancy, and Hallie's widower, Murph. And there is Eunie's big brother in Florida to whom I wrote a sympathy note. We/I used to be part of a big family. I tell people that, being the youngest of the youngest, most of my cousins were old enough to be my parents, and they are long gone.  Actually, I am the youngest of the youngest on the Gustafson side, but Eunie and her mother were the youngest on the Anderson side. This is not a sad story. I'm so happy to have been part of that bunch of Swedish Lutherans. Maybe there is other nourishment that's better, but the strength of a large caring group of relatives certainly ranks high.

Eunie did believe she would be joining her husband and all her family and friends. I hope she's having a wonderful reunion, free of the need for the oxygen tether.

How short is the time!

The long pause is only partly inertia.  I thought every day that I'd be announcing the debut of "Mrs. Job" but little glitches keep coming up -- some annoying, like the proof reader's efforts to get "Ph.D." changed to "PhD". Confusion has ensued on the covers (hard and soft). And I've [re]learned something about myself. I tried so hard to figure out what I should do about the cover errors until -- ah-ha -- I realized it wasn't in my court, but in theirs, because they hadn't applied the corrections I'd agreed to. So, here I am, waiting.

In the meantime, I realized the other night, as I watched the young lady directing the Orchestra of the Enlightenment, how really short are our productive years. Every once in a while I see a "Want Ad" for some form of psychological work or teaching and think, "Oh, I'd like to do that." And then I wake up to the facts. I don't even want full-time work any more. But it reminds me of my father during his last year in the nursing home, actually wasting away with cancer, suggesting to my mother that they should buy a little house for themselves, small enough so the care of the house wouldn't be too heavy. And that reminds me of my mother in the nursing home, looking at herself in the mirror and seeing the beautiful young blonde my father married. I like that thought.  I hope I keep seeing someone attractive in the mirror. I have changed my goal, though. Now I just want to look dignified and welcoming. What did I say about our productive years?

And let me add a bit about patience. Finally rejoicing in the new administration after weeks - months - of stress in the campaign, I realize how important it is to wait -- and work. Do you remember when we thought the atomic bomb would take us all out? Or the Korean war? Or the Cuban missile crisis? Or being kept out of our offices at school because of a bomb threat? Or the horror of brave people being killed marching for peace and justice? Or Vietnam? Or the sadness and anxiety over the invasion of Iraq? Or Darfur? Or -- ! If you remember those things, then you can add to the list. And we fortunate ones are still here. Amazing!

I'll be back soon, I hope, with a "Mrs. Job" announcement. In the meantime, those are my thoughts. Feel free to add them to my "Aging Diary." And please, feel free to comment.

No "Aging Diary"

Some time ago I started a document I called "Aging Diary" because I thought that after I die at the age of 104 it might be interesting for geriatric students to observe the process of cognitive/verbal change. The problem is that I never seem to find time to write in it. I'm too busy with working on all the issues I care about. I guess that means that this blog becomes the equivalent of my "aging diary." -- somewhat more public than I had planned, but...

Aside from the fact that "Mrs. Job" is uppermost in my mind, I find myself thinking about some colleagues from my years at Southern Connecticut State University who write me that they have decided to leave their social action projects to their children and just relax and enjoy retirement. In the same "bubble" I think about a colleague who has moved on from her life's journey, no longer here to stay in e-mail contact. Then there are those friends and colleagues from so many sources who strike me with awe in all that they do. Sometimes I think I want just to throw it all in, relax, read, and take it easy. Then I realize I really need to feel at the end of each day that I've really "done something." I suppose this is the problem of retirement. When do we do it? My hope is that I will know when the time has come, just as I knew when the time had come to give up teaching at the Adler Graduate School. 

I need to see clients. I need to advise on thesis projects. I need to work for restorative justice. I need to work on "Riding in the Back Seat," (my next writing project). I need to continue working with the wonderful folks at JustFaith+. I need to support (mostly financially) the causes of health and homes for all, end of war (dare I believe?), the termination of torture, the opportunity for everyone to live to their fullest (aha - now education comes up), equal rights, respect for all races, religions, and ethnic groups, family connections and strength, oh, and so much more. Thank goodness for the folks who need only my regular (and not very large) financial support. Because the fact is (note this in the aging diary) that I don't have the energy I once had. And I do look forward to letting my mind go numb at 9:00 Central Time with some CSI program or other, with it's fake blood and promise of a clear solution at the end.

My thoughts are a-buzz now with plans for marketing "Mrs. Job." But that's for tomorrow.