Recently I’ve been discovering that there is more to publishing a book than simply publishing a book. There’s really a lot of busy work to do. I have to take orders for signed copies, actually sign the copy and finally, send it out via snailmail (it’s terribly taxing, but I do what I can for my peeps). Then there are these blogs that I need to produce two or three times a week. I have had several demands asking when my next blog is coming out (it’s been about 4 or 5 days since my last one). Okay, maybe it was just one person doing the demanding, and maybe she didn’t exactly demand. Perhaps I made her read, "When’s your next blog coming out, Kristina?" in front of a bunch of people, or else I’d egg her car.
It’s possible I might have done something like that.
It gets even crazier…
Over the last couple weeks, I have had to spice up my amazon account (I had to create my profile and pretty up the page where my book is displayed). First, I had to apply to become a member of AmazonConnect. That sounds simple, right? Well, things got messed up and disconnected or whatever, so I had to email them to find out what’s wrong. Luckily they fixed the problem quite quickly and I was set to go. Then I had to find a decent picture to put up there that I haven’t yet used (I don’t have that many good ones of me where I can say, yes, that looks like me and not a pile of manure). On top of that, I had to write yet another bio (though mostly I just refer to my website bio so I didn’t suffer too much on that one). After that, I attempted to talk about my boring interests. Who really cares that I like photography? Anybody? I can’t imagine why… I’m not sure that I even care.
I’m also editing my next book in the Anaedor series (Book 2), which is actually getting a bit tedious being that it’s about the 100th time I’ve gone over it. And I’m still finding problems. However, on the plus side, the revision process has helped me prepare for a workshop that I’m doing on writing (yet another thing to do, wahhh!). What has been much more fun has been starting work on my next book series (I’ll give you a hint — it’s not about rocks).
Somewhere between eating breakfast and losing my mind, I’ve needed to contact my hometown and alma mater newspapers/newsletters to hopefully publish a blurb on my book, which I wrote myself so that I could make my life sound completely fascinating. Basically I lied. No, I didn’t - I’ve truly led a fascinating life (in my head, anyway).
And then there are my three children who apparently want to be fed at regular intervals. Plus I must attend to their schoolwork and book fairs and open houses and doctor’s appointments and illness (from September to June it’s just one long stretch of it), not to mention bills to pay and yardwork to do. Soon the leaves will need to be removed from my yard. They don’t do it themselves and I can’t just let them stay there because we need a pile of them for our annual leaf pile/s’mores party. Ah, well. It will get me outdoors and give me some much-needed exercise. I am turning into a potato.
I find myself multi-tasking a lot. While talking on the phone, I clean. I even clean the phone. Just a minute ago I got up to see why my 5-year-old was crying. Since the kitchen was on the way, I made sure to grab my snack dishes and drop them off. I knew by the sound of his crying that he wasn’t terribly hurt (or at least was still conscious) so I figured I had a second to accomplish this task. Currently, my 3-year-old is half-lying in my lap, rolling back and forth, saying, "I’m still getting hungry." It’s 4:30 so I told him that he would probably eat a big supper then. He doesn’t like this answer, but eventually he wanders off in search of food. Boy this multi-tasking is hard work!
What I really need is a secretary. But I can’t afford a secretary. I make, like, a dollar off each book I sell (if that). I could sell 400 books (which would be fantastic) and only make $400. That’s why publishing companies reject so many books. If they don’t think you can make them big bucks, you’re not worth the time and money. It’s frustrating, but understandable - though only if you’re a saint.
So what’s my point in all this? I don’t really know. But it sure felt good to vent! Now I better go find my 3-year-old. I think he might be stuck in the refrigerator.