Tuesday, January 19, 2010
I confess, I forgot it was Confession Tuesday until I just read January's blog. It's a 4-day weekend for us, so it feels like Sunday, one long Sunday.
I confess that the idea of "marketing" my book gives me that knot in the stomach feeling. I do not want to be the person with the "AUTHOR" nametag on, nor do I want to be the cheesy used car salesman (nor do I see my book as a used car).
I talked with a friend of mine recently, Tatyana Mishel, who is not just a writer, but also a creativity coach (and she's awesome!) who suggested I see "marketing" as "sharing," and to find the way I love to do things and how to do the "marketing/sharing" part of publishing a book while feeling authentic about what I am doing. I liked that idea. I am not a bookpusher and could never be. The idea makes me feel queasy.
I confess I will throw a party when my book comes out and there will be crafts. I may also ask my friends to come as their version of Emily Dickinson. I confess, my favorite parties involve some sort of craft or art project.
I confess what I love about my friends is do not hesitate to be part of my bizarre whims.
I confess I have not been practicing my violin as much as I'd like.
I confess that last night I dreamt that someone had broken into our house in a Winnie the Pooh costume (the really big kind they wear at Disneyland). He had my violin and I remember that made me angrier than the fact that he had broken into our house. I grabbed my violin from him and kicked him down the stairs. I am not a dream interpreter. But I did have a late dinner with chocolate cake and creme brulee to celebrate my birthday and perhaps this extra sugar took me to a very weird world.
Dear Poohbear, I still adore you.