Book Fair Foray

A few years ago – somewhere in my early 50s – I decided that maybe it was a good idea to intentionally do scary things now and then. No, not bungee jumping or sky diving (check and check before I developed back problems). Really scary things. Like public speaking or wearing bright red lipstick or self-publishing a book.

The book thing has provided many opportunities to be terrified. Opportunities beyond learning new software and deciphering Amazon specifications and posing for an author photo in a public park. For instance, earlier this year I was interviewed on the radio. That was pretty scary. But ultimately great fun. As many of these stretch-myself-out-of-my-comfort-zone expeditions often are. Last weekend was the next adventure in finding fun in the midst of terror. Yes, this introvert participated in her first-ever book fair. Weeeee!

It was the third year this particular book fair was held, but the first time in a large, historic, echo-y wooden building that once housed US Army men back in early 1900s. The fair has grown quite a bit each year, with over 60 eager authors in attendance this year. At least one of whom had no idea what she was doing.

The fair was sponsored by the radio station that aired my aforementioned interview, which is how I got wind of it back in January. This gave me six solid months to be mildly petrified. I distracted myself by focusing on my display. SO much online shopping and returning and visits to the local print shop and dry-running in our breakfast nook.

I spent a few weeks in March deciding
what color was the best contrast to the
burgundy cover. Yellow for the
eye-catching win!

As the date for the book fair approached, I channeled my fear into obsessing about wrinkly tablecloths. Did you know there are YouTube videos showing you how to properly fold fitted tablecloths for convention tables? Yup. And some of them are even helpful! Unlike the smelly “Wrinkle Release” spray I quickly wished I could return. It turns out, my branded table runner sneakily hid any major wrinkles. Score!

Key among the requirements for my set-up was that each piece of my display puzzle needed to be light enough for me to manage on my own. I have some other events coming up (stay tuned for more terror!) that will make use of my display. I don’t want to have to drag Rob along to every single one as my roadie. So the book fair was something of a dry run – even though Rob was with me – to see if I could transport, set up, and tear down my table of All Things I’m FINE. all by myself. Verdict? We still don’t know.

Grateful for the opportunity to set up the night before the book fair, Rob and I arrived at the venue after dinner, agreeing that he would lag behind as I did everything myself. This ended up being torment for Rob. It nearly killed him to watch me struggle to keep all my supplies balanced on a light hand truck as I swerved it up a slalom-y ramp. A few other early birds offered to help me. I awkwardly insisted I was trying to do it myself, much like a toddler without the (outward) tantrum.

At one point, another author couldn’t take it anymore and gallantly took possession of my folding table while an event organizer escorted us to my spot. The two of them set up my table as I tried to find words that made any sense as to why I shouldn’t be accepting their help. I failed. Meanwhile, Rob cringed nearby, equally as conflicted as I was about how to explain that he was not in fact a total douche of a husband. Truth be told, I’m still cringing as I think about it.

Me clearly displeased about something
during my night-before set up. 

The next morning was much better. We arrived in plenty of time for me to nervously fiddle with bookmarks and buttons and set up my digital slide show of pain-related memes and photos. I introduced myself to my neighbors. One (Darcy) was a retired military pilot who has authored children’s books about his adventures. The other (Carl) was a retired stand-up comedian/radio show host who penned a baseball-themed memoir. Because of how my display was set up, I wasn’t able to chat with Darcy much during the day. Carl, however, was a hoot and a half! The man is a full-blown extrovert and quite funny. He had me and Rob and many potential customers rolling with laughter throughout the fair. It was essentially a 5-hour comedy show sitting next to Carl!

The laughter was much needed, because it turns out that talking about chronic pain for 5 hours is exhausting. It’s a tough topic. And for many folks I chatted with, it was clearly not a topic they were used to openly talking about. I totally get that – it’s one of the foundations of my book.

I was so deeply honored to have those conversations, where trust and commiseration were quickly felt despite the shared vulnerability. And I had to quickly assess if folks really wanted to “go there” with me. I know the walls of denial and the masks of “I’m fine, nothing to discuss here” behind years of hurt. I had – and have – them myself.

So while Carl was yukking it up about baseball and Philly in the ‘60s, I was having heart-to-hearts with strangers testing the waters of finally speaking their truth. It was super exhausting and incredibly profound.

As the 5 hours came to a close, I was both amazed and grateful that the book fair was already over. I watched the experienced authors start packing up during the last 30 minutes. By the official end time, I was one of only a few still fully set up. Twenty minutes later, I was one of the last to leave, with no help this time. Thankfully!

Sales-wise, I sold enough books to cover my costs. Interestingly, there was a fair amount of authors buying from each other (Darcy and Carl each have a copy of my book; Rob is currently reading Carl’s). It was all terribly awkward for me, the whole selling thing. I really just want to help people. I desperately wanted to give a few folks a free copy of my book. But I knew that would get ugly fast.

I eavesdropped on the experienced authors – most of whom were selling children’s books, memoirs, or fantasy/thriller fiction. They knew how to pitch their offerings. But there was a vibe of eagerness bordering on desperation that made me feel like I was wearing an itchy sweater. It was weird and I never got used to it.

So was my first foray into the world of Book Fairs a success? Yes! I handed out a LOT of cards and bookmarks to folks who needed to ponder what I was offering. My throat was raw from all the talking, and my body was spent from the physicality of spending 5 hours in the corner of an old building. But my spirit? My spirit was soaring. The opportunity to commiserate with other folks who hurt, to crack open the door to better and more authentic conversations, and to be empathetic proof that other pained people are not alone in their experience. That was everything. I can’t wait to do it again.

 

Hear’s a story

I can barely believe that exactly one year ago, I met a freelance editor over mochas and handed her a red binder containing what I thought was my pretty-much-done book for its first review. Between that editor and even more so Rob, I was rather surprised to discover a few weeks later that I had a lot of writing yet to craft.  Nevertheless, I thought the hard part of self-publishing a book was mostly behind me.

Bwahahahahahaha!

It turns out producing a book almost entirely by yourself is quite a process. Especially when you have never done it before. But thanks to stubbornness and YouTube, I eventually cracked the code on Amazon’s extensive formatting requirements for both a print and e-reader version of my book. I was ecstatic to finally claim victory over Kindle Direct Publishing just a few brain-stretching months after the mochas and announce to the world that my book was available to read.  WHOO HOO!

But the celebration was short-lived because I knew there was still one critical hurdle left to leap over: producing an audiobook version.

 

I kept envisioning my recording studio would look
something like this, minus the groovy hot pants.

Why bother making an audiobook?

When you are in pain, sometimes reading or even holding a book can take way too much energy and be way beyond your capabilities. I distinctly remember having to abandon reading the newly popular Harry Potter series while recovering from my first back surgery. The mystical tomes were too big and heavy and slid around on my plastic back brace when I tried to prop them up while reading in bed.  I had to settle instead for the movies.

So my gut told me that an audio version of my book about living with chronic pain would meet a distinct need of my target audience. But my head told me it was full and tired from being stuffed with so much new information from learning how to birth the print and e-reader versions. So I took a little breather. Which stretched into about six months. Apparently I needed a lot of air.

I eventually made some progress by editing my book for listening instead of reading. Changes like describing charts, removing photos, deciding how to speak years (“two thousand twenty” or “twenty twenty”?), introducing and ending quotes, adding in a greeting, deleting the index and bibliography, and setting up a page on my book’s website that includes links to resources I reference.

Then I stalled out due to fear of the unknown.

In an effort to convince myself I wasn’t totally procrastinating, I poked around a little here and there, trying to figure out how one goes about making an audiobook. Most of what I found terrified me. It was either going to cost me thousands of dollars to rent a sound studio and its accompanying engineer, or it was going to require learning a whole new world of sound production and software involving concepts like “room tone” and “noise floor” and “headroom.” So I mostly avoided the Audiobook Project, busying myself instead with discovering that Amazon Ads is quite a money maker…for Amazon.

Eventually, though, I couldn’t stand it anymore. That lingering, persistent sense that there were people out there who might be helped by my book who nonetheless could not easily read it.

Indeed, I had two very real examples.

Donna is a dear friend’s mom who has a host of health issues which make reading both challenging and exhausting. Serena is the blind daughter of a woman Rob went to college with. Both friends gently asked early on if an audio version of “I’m FINE.” was available. So I knew there was a demand of at least two listeners. Frankly, that was enough to confirm my hunch and keep me motivated. Seriously. I kept photos of Donna and Serena next to my microphone to remind me – often – that the insanely steep learning curve of a DIY audiobook was undeniably worth climbing.

I just figured out a new app to blur their beautiful-
but-respecting-their-privacy faces! Go barely-
keeping-up-with-the-times me!

Trudging up the learning curve

The process of making an audiobook all by my lonesome was pretty intense. Yes, that means I recorded the book myself using my own voice. My research said that non-fiction audiobooks are very often read by the authors and that listeners actually prefer it that way (fiction books with lots of characters and dialog are another story). I loved that confirming little nugget since I was not about to hire a narrator. I am both too cheap and too much of a control freak to let my words and heart be spoken by someone else.

The next step was figuring out what software to use. My research (soooo much research) pointed to some audio recording and editing software called Audacity. Its biggest advantages were: 1) I had the barest of familiarity with it from editing podcasted sermons at my church years ago; and 2) it is free. 

Audacity’s biggest disadvantage was that it is used for all sorts of audio recording applications so it has a ton of features I would never need. And trying to decipher the useful from the extraneous was going to take a lot of work. Not to mention trying to figure out how to match up Amazon’s mind-boggling audio requirements with Audacity’s menus upon menus of choices.

A ”what have I got to lose?” question thrown out to a Facebook group of self-help DIYers yielded a much better alternative.

Hindenburg Narrator’s biggest advantage was that the software was designed specifically for people to record, edit, and produce audiobooks. SCORE! It also has an amazing sanity-saving feature that automatically fixes your files to make Amazon happy. That made me SUPER DUPER happy. Decibels, smeshibels. Narrator would take care of it!!

Narrator’s biggest disadvantage was, despite appearances, the paltry instruction provided online or elsewhere to give solid direction to the newbie audiobook producer. So I had to trudge through the Hindenburg forest largely on my own with only the most general of maps to guide me. There was a lot of trial and error and lots more disparaging words as I eventually figured out how to use the darned software. I am now lightly considering learning how to produce a “How To Use Hindenburg Narrator” YouTube video to help spare other DIY authors the pain of self discovery.

Next up: my “sound studio.” Yet more research suggested I needed to find the quietest room in my house, which for most people is a closet. Yep, a closet because it is filled with clothes that absorb sound. It also does not likely have a vent that blasts in noisy air. That all made sense but it sounded rather cumbersome. I really didn’t relish the idea of having to sidestep a table, chair, and microphone every time I needed to change clothes. Not to mention asking Rob to do the same.

It took about a week of orders, returns, borrowing, reconfiguring, redecorating, and revisiting the photos of Donna and Serena to finally determine a recording setup that would yield good quality sound without totally disrupting our lives or killing my back (or so I adorably thought). I tried 2 locations, 3 chairs, 4 microphones, and 3 desks before finally landing on this:

I get a little twitchy just looking 
at this photo. Dismantling my
"studio" was a happy day!

A couple of abandoned set-ups. Among items not shown:
gaming microphone headset, music stand, bar stool, 
wireless keyboard, and noise-canceling headphones.
SUPER grateful for Rob helping me brainstorm solutions!

My sound studio was a guest bedroom with a closed air vent on the opposite side of the room. I sat on a desk chair with 3 pillows, had a stepstool covered with a pillowcase as a footrest, and placed a box lined with acoustic foam on a craft table covered with a thick blanket. I placed my small laptop deep into the foam box and wore a lapel microphone clipped to the center of a crewneck t-shirt. My laptop's increasingly too-small screen showed both my manuscript and the soundwaves as I spoke into the microphone connected to the software. By shimmying up close to the box, the foam surprisingly absorbed lots of extraneous sound. I remain mystified why my research talked a lot more about stuffy closets and a lot less about foam boxes.  For what it was (cheap and functional), the "portable vocal booth box" worked quite well.

 

The process

I quickly identified a Recording Uniform. Each day I was recording, I wore quiet clothes – cotton pants, socks without shoes, and a crewneck t-shirt so the clip-on microphone was always in the same place. And always short sleeves since the air vent and door were closed leaving the room pretty stuffy. I didn’t wear earrings or my watch (yeah, I’m old that way). And, after several days of searing headaches and weird dizziness, I added computer glasses over my bifocals which ended up helping a ton.

Unfortunately, I cannot read very well with my
monovision contacts, so this was the best solution.
I also discovered wearing two sets of glasses
made my nose hurt. Fun times!

My days eventually fell into a pattern of recording from late morning to early evening and then editing at night. I discovered my voice was sort of scratchy and phlegmy at the beginning of the day and super tired and low energy at the end of the day. Plus my back hurt and my eyes and head ached from sitting and staring at a bright screen while recording, so lounging in bed while editing files provided a good body balance.

I determined drinking cold water was best; anything hot produced phlegm and a lot of throat-clearing. And bubbles were a big, burpy no-no. Based on research (did I mention I did some?), I snacked on green apples to keep my stomach from making noises while also keeping saliva at bay. I also avoided dairy.

Editing was by far the most time-consuming part of producing my audiobook. It took at least 5 times as long to edit my 200-page book as it did to record it. What was I editing out? Some computer noise and mouse clicks but mostly breathing. So much breathing. Turns out I breathe a lot.

I also had to stop and rerecord frequently. Flubbed a word, wrong pronunciation, too fast, too slow, no energy, phlegm, trying to say “anonymity.”

And I discovered – despite living in a rather remote, rural setting – Woodhaven is LOUD. Things I never noticed before were SO NOISY when I was trying to record. Things like soft rain falling, snow melting, Rob laughing on a phone call downstairs, hunters entertaining themselves with target practice, the &*$# birds in the morning. I was astonished by how noisy nature is.

For the most part, the short lines needed to
be deleted. This is about two-sentences worth
of sound. Imagine 200 pages of sentences...

The stats

By the time I was done, I had clocked about 69 hours of recording and editing to produce an audiobook that is 6 hours and 6 minutes long. Yes, I kept a log and no, oddly, it is not in a spreadsheet…yet.  

And how long did it take me to slog through those 69 hours?

11 days.

Yes, I worked on my audiobook for 11 days straight. The longest day was 10 hours, the shortest was 2.5 hours. I spent an average of 6.25 hours per day working on the audiobook.  I do not recommend this speed of attack.

But you see, once I got going, I wanted to be done. It was such a tedious process (the editing), I just wanted to get it over with. And we were going on a trip and I didn’t want the project hanging over me while we were gone. Plus, you know, Donna and Serena. 

But the real driving force behind the marathon sprint to complete the audiobook in near record time? The Hindenburg software had a 30-day free trial. Did I mention I’m cheap?

Oh, it gets worse.

The price per month to lease the software after the 30-day free trial?  $12. Yep. Did I also mention I am very driven and goal-oriented, especially when I have a deadline – even a self-imposed one? You can’t put a price on that. Not even $12 per month.

Rob took amazing care of me during my hiatus from life. He knows his wife well and that there was no point in trying to stop me once I had my goal in sight. Turning the tables on some of his most intense grad school classes, Rob kept me fed and watered as I went to work upstairs each morning, utterly absorbed in finishing in a few weeks what should have taken at least a few months.  As expensive as a sound engineer might have been – and believe you me, there were times I fantasized about having hired one – you cannot buy that level of support, encouragement, understanding, love, and acceptance of reality.

 

The finished product

By the time I was finally done talking into a foam box, I had 25 audio files ready to upload for Amazon’s final scrutiny and (hopefully) approval. Research (again!) revealed Amazon has actual humans listen to submitted audiobooks before being accepted for sale on their platform. What these humans were evaluating is a mystery. And how I might have fixed any problems they identified was an even greater mystery, as I was pretty tapped out on learning what Narrator has to offer.

So it was with ENORMOUS relief that I opened the “Congratulations!” email from Amazon nine eternal days after submission. And with six days to spare on my 30-day free trial! Gold star for driving hard towards a goal! And for the concession that perhaps the drive was a little too much and a whole lot unnecessary.

Making the audiobook version of “I’m FINE.” was by far the most daunting, frustrating, tedious, and literally painful part of this whole authorship adventure so far. And also one that I am particularly proud to have conquered. Although having an agent or a professional publisher to guide and hold my hand through all these steps would have been much less terrifying and overwhelming, I am pretty stoked that this middle-aged dog can still learn some new tricks, especially when $12 per month is at stake.

Is my audiobook professionally produced with consistent pacing, uniform voice tone, and the complete absence of unidentified background noises? No.

Is it done and available for listeners who need it?  YES! 

Hallelujah and amen!

Among the many delightful surprises along the
way was learning I needed a square cover for the
audiobook instead of a rectangular one. 
Rockin' graphic designer to the rescue!

You can find it on Amazon, Audible, and iTunes! 

 

 

How my book is doing

It seems odd that just about 7 months ago, I announced the publication and availability of my first-ever book. As with many things, it seems like that lay-it-all-out-there announcement was both just a few days ago and sometime in the 20-teens.

My biggest cheerleaders have been incredibly kind to periodically ask, “How’s your book doing??” For the longest time – and still to some degree – my best, most honest answer has been, “I have no idea.”

The truth is, I haven’t been sure how to measure success in putting my heart and life in book form and releasing it to the world.

Sure, there are metrics. So many metrics. Like over 300 copies are currently circulating about, over 95% of which have been in paper form (I guess e-books aren’t as big a thing as I thought?). I can legitimately claim to be an international author due to one smashing sale in the UK in November. At one point in early December, my book was the 5th “Best Selling Book in Chronic Pain” on Amazon (today it is #67 - easy come, easy go). I ordered a second batch of business cards in October. An adorable local bookstore is carrying my book on its shelves. And 14 very kind folks have taken the time to leave supportive reviews of “I’m FINE.” on Amazon.

Yes, a cruel irony that a book about
chronic pain is on the bottom shelf.
The owner said she would be 
reorganizing the display.

But, having never published a book before, I have no idea what these numbers really mean. In the scheme of a New York Times Bestseller (not my goal), I know I have a loooooonnnngggg way to go, baby. But in the scheme of my actual goal of trying to get my book in the hands of people it might help, those numbers feel encouraging for just 7 months. Especially since I’m pretty much a lone ranger in trying to market it.

Ah, yes. Marketing. I have some experience with marketing concepts from eons ago, and I have access to a retired marketing guru (albeit for ketchup and pudding). I contacted two local newspapers when my book first came out. Both were incredibly kind to write feature stories about me and my mission to help others navigating chronic pain.

Super excited to be in the local paper!
And super amused (eventually) to have my
last name totally mangled.  Toni Willard?!?

Several months later, I aborted a foray into the surprisingly murky waters of Amazon Ads when it became clear three weeks later – after digging into the cleverly buried sales data – that I was losing money on every ad-generated sale. But that’s about it in terms of my Traditional Marketing Efforts. Every time I think about trying to promote my book – and myself – it feels fake. Cheesy. Spot-lighty. And totally not me.

Instead, Rob helped me immensely several months ago when he suggested I consider my marketing plan to be Opportunistic. Instead of cold-calling offices and sending out press releases and cultivating vaguely relevant daily content for my book’s Facebook and Instagram accounts, Rob wisely suggested I instead just keep my eyes open for opportunities to share my book with people. Organic, natural, authentic, heart-led opportunities, not ones constructed and forced. That feels much more like me.

I will admit, being a data-loving numbers person, I got a bit sidelined by all the metrics that are supposed to measure my book’s success and impact. I found my mood rising and falling on book sales and rankings and reviews.

But then…THEN…I would get an email or a phone call or a second-hand comment that would reel me back in. Back to the real point of writing my book, the real purpose of determinedly surviving the aching vulnerability, the real point of, well, everything: helping people.

My heart sings and my spirit bursts with joy every single time someone tells me my book helped them. Whether it’s a new perspective, a new habit, a new way of describing their life with chronic pain, more confidently navigating a surgery, or truly realizing they aren’t alone – each “thank you” from people who have read my book has meant the world to me.

And the people I have met!  I have had coffee and phone chats and email conversations with new friends who were so brave to use the email address I offer at the end of my book. Sure, including that email has produced some interesting offers of business partnerships, but I am so thankful I gulped and included that email despite my fears of making myself so very available.  But that, after all, was the whole point.

So, when I focus on what really, truly matters, I am thrilled to report that my book is doing AMAZING!

My Pandemic Project Revealed

You might have noticed – or not – that I haven’t been writing here much. But believe you me, I HAVE been writing. A lot. Like 119 pages’ worth of musings, reflections, admissions, encouragements, warnings, lessons, insights, regrets. I’m finally far enough along in my Pandemic Project to proclaim it publicly. With excitement and a huge gulp.

I am writing a book!

It’s a project I have been pondering for about 5-8 years.  And then a surgery in the midst of The Pandemic kicked me from dangling my feet in the authorship pool to finally jumping in head first. Because, you know, I had time.

Interesting thing about writing a book during a global pandemic:  I had a ton of time and very little motivation. I started then stopped then sputtered along. I spent quite a few weeks (well, ok, months) feeling guilty for not being more productive with my copious couch time. Well, other than not getting Covid.  Eventually, after about a year of deftly avoiding both the virus and my book, I finally faced my fears and plunged in. To the book I mean.  When I finally join the infected ranks and plunge into Covid remains to be seen.

My book is non-fiction and what I wish I had over 20 years ago when my life took a huge detour after I coughed and messed up my back. My book is titled I’m FINE. – A Practical Guide to Life with Chronic Pain. It covers a lot of ground – the emotions, the impacts, the gadgets, surgeries, disability insurance, alternative therapies, how and where to find hope.  All the stuff that defines your life when you hurt pretty much all the time.

Writing my book has been exciting, agonizing, cathartic, scary, and exhilarating. I have been mostly having an absolute blast, but about 15-20% of it has been all kinds of hard and heavy lifting. The toughest part was knowing I needed to write about things I didn’t want to think about anymore, stuff I’ve put behind me, stuff I didn’t want to revisit. But it’s all part of the story – and actually pretty critical stuff – so with the help of a wise and encouraging mentor, I finally started making real progress about 10 months ago.

I am self-publishing I’m FINE. which turns out is a REALLY BIG PROCESS. Lordy, there’s a lot to learn. I have been overwhelmed and panicked and hyperventilatey so very many times while scouring YouTubes and blog posts and How-To’s about how one can bypass years of rejection by ignoring fancypants publishers and doing the book thing as a DIY adventure. The deeper I get into this Let's Make a Book endeavor, the more I realize that writing the 119 pages was the easy part.

So far I have learned about:

• ISBN numbers and why you want to buy 10 of them
  
  
• Why having your own publishing company is wise and incredibly easy
  
  
• The importance of fonts and their sizes
  
  
• Why and how to find an editor, an alpha reader, and some beta readers
  
  
• Not feeling awkward while posing in a popular park for an author photo
  
  
• Graphic designers and their world of vectors and rasters
  
  
• Citations and licensing and documenting written permissions to reprint stuff created by other people
  
  
• Author landing pages, bios, and book descriptions and how to write all salesy and extroverted
  
  
• Trim sizes and bleeds and safe zones and gutters – publishing sounds rather dangerous, doesn’t it?

I am currently in the Beta Reader phase of this undertaking – I have asked a few people to read Draft 6 as average readers to see how it hits them and alert me to any huge stumbling blocks in my quest to encourage other folks who do life with chronic pain.  Once I get my betas’ feedback, I then get to take a deep breath, adjust my glasses, ply myself with chamomile tea, and figure out how to format my manuscript to Amazon’s screens-upon-screens of exacting standards. I am fantasizing about being ready to click “PRINT” sometime before July.

Stay tuned! 

In addition to a cover design, a very talented woman named
Lynn created a logo for me.  I HAVE A LOGO!!