PROOFING IS MY LIFE (PT.2)

It’s not just proofing and re-proofreading my work–everything from reclaiming the rights to my books to getting them onto as many download sites as possible is taking a lot longer than I ever expected. Not a terrible biggie since I’m not ready to keel over despite what friends say.  And, as impatient as I am to be writing new Matt Jacob books, I do accept the importance of all the above.

Still, there is one remaining area that has my stomach in a knot; how to become part of the signal rather than the noise of the Internet.  There’s the usual press release to particular blogs, websites, virtual and non-virtual newspapers that deal with books–especially mysteries.  There’s the hope of invitations to write guest posts about writing in general, writing a series, writing about my main man Matt himself.  And of course I’d love to be interviewed.  Plus, I have a friend who is actually good at this, Sherri
Frank Mazzotta who is on the Steering Committee of The Newburyport Literary Festival: http://www.newburyportliteraryfestival.org/ and she has been willing to help more than I could have hoped for.

But my gut tells me that even if everything I just mentioned comes true, it still wouldn’t be enough.  Because books sell through word of mouth.  That is true of the paper versions in brick and mortar stores and it’s just as true–perhaps even more so–in this virtual world.  Frankly, I’ve yet to conceive any strategy that actually creates word of mouth despite reading a fair amount of writers who post about this notion of “branding.”  Should I brand my reviews, my character, or myself?

I’ve watched authors plug away on Facebook, Twitter, Google Plus and other sites.  Hell, I do the same thing for my Monday posts.  I’ve watched as other writers give their books away free, charge 99 cents, have super-sales, and join collectives with the hope that the combined force of their work breaks through and creates that word of mouth.

Maybe some or all of these things actually work.  I’m not privy to sales figures.  But, at least right now, ninety nine centing, pushing my work everywhere I can, leaves me scratching my head ’cause I find this a really tough do.

I’ve been here before so knew this was coming, and was going to be an issue.  When I was publishing through traditional channels, it was the same conundrum.  But before was nearly twenty years ago and I found it easier to do that which I found uncomfortable.  I humped out whatever speaking gigs I could, though I never read from my books.  Even back then that took more hubris than I possessed.  But I did find places which wanted me to speak and mostly I worried whether the publishing house actually sent the stores or groups books for me to sell.  Often they didn’t.  Sometimes they actually did.  Usually because the sales rep for New England (with whom I still remain good friends) hammered on their head.

(An aside: Of all the people I met in the world of traditional publishing, I found the reps to be the most knowledgeable, most dedicated, and thoroughly committed to both authors and independent bookstores than anyone else.  It was a pleasure to go to their parties and talk books because they actually read ’em and passed them around to each other.  No surprise that by the end of my run, reps were being fired by the truckload as the independent bookstores were getting hacked by Borders, Barnes and Noble, and other chains.  And here I am writing for the Internet companies.  I’ll feel better when I get to Ties that Blind, my fourth book in the original series, and beyond because they will be available as ‘books on demand’ at local bookstores that can print them like The Harvard Bookstore in Cambridge, Ma. http://harvardbookstore.com/  and other independent stores that I will find and link to.)

Obviously I feel pretty damn uncomfortable pushing my own work–no matter how good I think it is.  So part of my new challenges will be to search for ideas to develop a personal method of generating buzz.  Ways that are comfortable to create this word of mouth phenomena.

So friends, readers, eventually all my copyediting will be finished and I’ll have to turn my attention to publicity.  Get ready ’cause I’m gonna need your help.

But not to worry now–next week I’m back to my opinion posts and will keep the proofing to myself.

“A person is not old until regrets take the place of dreams.”
– John Barrymore

PROOFING IS MY LIFE PT. 1

I’m not entirely certain what was flapping inside my head when I decided to republish my Matt Jacob mystery series as digital books.  I do know I wanted to continue the series without going through the song and dances that drove me out of traditional publishing sixteen years ago.  A painful experience I have no inclination of repeating.

I also knew people who had been successful at re-launching their out of print books digitally. (See http://leegoldberg.typepad.com/).

But most of all I wanted to control MY work—not only its content, (the final straw with publishing that soured me on writing for almost two decades), but the entire process from cover design (see JUDGING A BOOK BY ITS COVER) to charging what I believe is a fair price.

Damn, was I in for a surprise.  I had very little knowledge of how much time, effort, and work it is to produce a quality E-book.  Somehow, I had imagined getting the original series ready to download would zoom along and I would be able to turn my attention to the new book which excited me.  (As I’ve mentioned in other posts, the idea of contemplating and writing about the individual, relational, social changes that occurred during this time for Matt Jacob draws me like a stoner to an ounce.)

Didn’t happen that way.  I can’t speak for other writers who have done this, but for me the process has been incredibly long, painstaking, with detail piling onto detail onto detail.

A bit about the process.  I first sent three of my four books to a scanning company that turned the published books into scanned documents. (Since I walked out of Random House with the fourth, I already have it in manuscript form.)  I don’t know how many of you have experience with scanning, but it sure ain’t an exact science.  Which meant I had to go sentence by sentence to make certain the scan was accurate.  Until my son Jake’s work picked up, I actually hired him to read Still Among The Living out loud while I scoured the scan.  “Quotation mark, capital, italicized the, period, capital, end of paragraph, indent,” and so on.  Hour after hour.  Day after day.  It reminded me of the Three Stooges, “Slowly I turned, step by step…”

I gotta tell you, Jake was one happy young man when his electrical apprenticing sky-rocketed and he no longer had to deal with our sessions.

That left me swiveling my head until I was dizzy.  On the other hand, I hadn’t read my books in a long time and was relieved and pleased they held up so well.  It was actually fun to see what I had written and how much of what I had written I still enjoyed.  Laugh out loud enjoy.  Although I had been prepared to rewrite if necessary, for the most part all I changed were a few arcane references that might have meant something in the nineties, but who the hell knows Quincy now?

Then comes ‘formatting.’  Life should be so good as to have one set of formatting rules for every digital reading device.  But that’s not life as I know it.  There are at least three or four different formats to accommodate the reading machines that people own. PDFs, (which will be able to be bought from my personal website) to .PRC for Amazon Kindles, .Epub for B&N Nooks, and another for Kobo, Smashwords, CreateSpace, Lightning Source, Ipads, and other E-book marketplaces.

So proofed scanned copies of Still Among The Living, Two Way Toll, and No Saving Grace were sent to http://www.52novels.com/ for formatting. (I was referred to them by Lee Goldberg, mentioned above, and all his advice is spot on.  I can’t imagine a more competent, decent group of people, with a special shout-out to Christina and Amy.)

But formatting comes with many of the same issues as scanning.  It too ain’t an exact science.  So once the books were formatted they also needed to be proofed, only this time, since there’s more than one format, it means proofing each book multiple times.  Gotta tell you, there aren’t nearly as many laugh out louds when you usher at the same movie over and over.  In fact, there are days when my mind simply shuts down after four or five chapters.  And while there are moments when I think traditional publishing and self-publishing are both lose/lose propositions, those moments are few and far between.

What’s really scary is how all the time it’s taking me to catch up with my writing self (and a lot more of that time is still to come) has driven me further away from my sit-down with the older, wiser  Matt and what’s left of his entourage.

MORE TO COME.

“It may be that my sole purpose in life is simply to serve
as a warning to others.”  Unknown.

HAPPY NEW YEAR

I want to thank everyone who has stopped by and put up with my head.  Especially those of you who took the time to comment.  I don’t think the past year has been particularly easy for anyone, so let’s hope 2012 will be uplifting and loving.

I’ll be back on the 9th and will do my best to keep you interested–I wouldn’t be here without you.
…Zach

“The great thing in the world is not so much where we stand, as in what direction we are moving.”
Oliver Wendell Holmes

Miscellanea

If I had imagined that “A Tough Write,” the last four posts chronicling my relationship with my dad, was going to be cathartic, I was wrong.  I do feel good about my honesty and my ability to get it down on ‘paper’, but I don’t feel much different than I did before I wrote the series.  Presumably I’m learning a lesson that many people already know—time helps more than venting, however well written and honest that venting is.

Maybe it’s that I don’t feel as “light and airy” as I had hoped.  Maybe it’s that I feel drained.  Maybe it’s the countdown to Jewish Christmas (Chinese and a movie).  But it’s one of those weeks where, as my friend Bruce Turkel put it, “I got nothin’.” (see: http://turkeltalks.com/index.php/2011/10/16/i-got-nothin/)

Rather than make something out of that nothin’, which Bruce already did so well, I’ve decided to let the week’s thoughts, ideas, insights, lack of insights, wishes, and experiences lope onto the page.  Or at least some of them.  I may be honest, but I do have some limits. (Where are they?  Where are they?)

In no particular order:

Television

NCIS, which has one of the highest television viewerships is my “comfort food.”  And like mac and cheese or take-out pizza, familiarity is probably more important than quality, especially when you’ve had a bad day. Nothing on NCIS makes you jump out of your skin and the relationships between the characters never surprise—that’s sort of the point.  Despite the above, Mark Harmon, in his role as Gibbs, has serious ‘duende.` ((P)RAISING THE DEAD): http://www.zacharykleinonline.com/1/archives/07-2011/1.html).

If you do want to jump out of your skin, Homeland, Showtimes’ series based on Gideon Raff’s Israeli Hatufim or Prisoners of War, makes that happen.  Claire Danes, as Carrie Mathison, is terrific as a manic on a mission to prevent a major terrorist attack.  Her intense mishagas is wonderfully offset by Saul Berenson (Mandy Patinkin), Carrie’s calm, soulful, mentor who mostly believes her hunches, but spends as much time trying to keep Carrie’s head together as hunting down any potential attack.  Damian Lewis as Nicholas Brody (whose acting is also marvelous) is an American Marine held captive by Al-Qaeda for eight years, originally the object of Carrie’s suspicion but becomes…well, I’ll let you discover what happens.

If you have Showtime and On Demand, I suggest you start from the beginning.  The show is that good.

Another pleasure on the television front is Starz’s Boss, which chronicles Mayor Tom Kane of Chicago (Kelsey Grammer, cast against the grain).  Although the series takes place in the present, it’s really about how the first Mayor Daley ran his town.  I think the series is worth watching, but I’m biased since I Iived in Chicago during three or four years of Daley’s term.  Again, if you do have On Demand and Starz, I’d suggest watching the show from the beginning.

(If folk have different recommendations, please let me know in the ‘comment’ section.  I’m always ready to hear about something decent on the tube.  Grateful too.)

Books I’d like to read:

Coming through Slaughter by Michael Ondaatje

House of War by James Carroll

Time Bites by Doris Lessing

The Art of Fielding by Chad Harbach

On the recommendation front:  But Beautiful (A Book About Jazz) by Geoff Dyer.  Truly fabulous as he riffs about jazz greats, writing those riffs in the style of each particular musician he profiles.  A stunning book for anyone who loves jazz.

Movies I want to see:

Sherlock Holmes: A Game Of Shadows.

The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo.

Mission Impossible-Ghost Protocal.

Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy.  (LeCarre’s second best book next to The Spy Who Came In From The Cold.)

Dangerous Method (Viggo as Freud?  He’s been great as everyone else).

My Week with Marilyn.

Documentaries I want to see:

Page One: Inside The New York Times.

Urbanized.

Eames: The Architect & The Painter.

The Black Power Mix Tape 1967-1975.

 Art I want to see:

Degas Nudes at Boston’s Museum of Fine Arts.

Play I’d like to see:

THE FRIENDS OF EDDIE COYLE at Club Oberon.

But mostly I want to finish the work of getting my Matt Jacob Mystery Series prepared for download.  It’s been a hell of a lot more effort than I imagined and I’ve yet to even figure out how to cut through the noise of the Internet where the books will live.  How to get the Matt Jacob series a following despite the overwhelming infoload of virtual reality? Of course, if anyone not on my mailing list wants to be, please let me know at zacharykleinonline@gmail.com.

I want finish because I’m chomping at the bit to write new ones.

So I plan to take the next two weeks off of my Monday posts.  I won’t finish my project, but it will give me an opportunity to do some catching up.  It will also allow me to recharge my Monday post batteries.  A Tough Write was tougher than I realized

I hope you all will return when I do.  Have a great, safe holiday; then let’s meet up again online Monday, January 9, 2012.

Feliz Navidad

Whoever undertakes to set himself up as judge in the field of truth and knowledge is shipwrecked by the laughter of the Gods. – Einstein

A Tough Write: Conclusion

My dad had a superficial gruffness that helped create the impression he was a man’s man. Ironically, it took much of my life to learn that, despite the enormous amount of time my father spent with men running his father’s card games, the war, tending bar, and working as a government accountant, it was much easier for him to talk to women. Learned that through his and Sue’s relationship. Throughout the years their friendship tightened much more rapidly than his and mine, and it was through their connection that he and I gingerly approached each other.

But despite the circling, I finally began to see how tolerant a person he actually was. He never batted an eye when we told him Sue was pregnant with Jake. He knew we weren’t married, but didn’t even ask if we were going to. He just rolled with it. Much the same way he’d rolled with my wedding, for which I never gave him much credit. And much the same way he rolled with my less-than-ambitious earning power—something that was important to him, but that he never laid on me other than an occasional tease.

I also learned it was impossible for him to live alone.

As much as both Sue and I have come to believe that Lenore was his true love, it wasn’t long after her death before he became involved with another woman from New Jersey and they eventually moved fulltime to Florida.

At this stage of our lives (I was about 40, him about 70), both of us were reluctant to jeopardize the delicate link we had made. And Sue made certain we not only maintained but fostered it. She would announce that it was time to go to Florida. She was the one who came up with the idea of making a license plate that read Sammy K., echoing a band leader he liked. She was the person I could watch tease my dad and make him laugh. She brought out and introduced me to aspects of his personality that made visiting more than a chore or duty.

In fact, it was Sue who, once he mentioned an interest in computers, suggested I take him shopping for one, set it up, and teach him how to use it. The first two were an easy do. The third, well, that turned out to be a blessing and a personal trip to hell.

He enjoyed the machine that let him follow his stocks, but never really got the hang of operator error. He was ham-fisted and impatient; if something didn’t happen instantaneously he’d keep banging the keys—lots of them. Not a useful way to work a computer, and out of character since he was usually pretty damn methodical.

Of course his computer ‘tech’ was me, which meant call after call with complaints about the machine while I tried to visualize what was going on and give him suggestions. Every time we visited I spent a day untangling the mess he’d made. But it was also a bridge. We were finally
talking on a regular basis.

Our visits and the computer crap slowly healed the old hurts we had inflicted upon each other. It wasn’t that they disappeared, more that new space opened between us. Space where something

other than the past, the conflicts, or the pain resided.

I was writing at the beginning of those years and, though he used to complain that my main character was too unkempt and drugged for big sales or a potential tv series (he was probably right), my father now knew me well enough to understand I was gonna write what I wanted to write. Years later, after Sue transformed a magazine writing career into writing books for kids, he kept asking why she didn’t just write “another Harry Potter.” I honestly believe he thought if a person could write, they could write anything. WRONG! This crack and his chuckle went on for years until Sue couldn’t take it anymore. She stopped it cold, when she countered with her own question: “Tell me Sam, how come you don’t stop buying those loser stocks and just get
good ones?”

But he was also quietly proud of our work. Kept our books in the living room where anyone who came into the condo would see them, including us.

Even more space opened between us. Hell, when Matthew was in college, he and a coed group of friends crashed at his place. The old man really enjoyed the visit. He never stopped telling the story of a mass of sleeping bodies on the floor and how Josh (Matt’s best man at his upcoming wedding) would wake up early and cook breakfast for everyone. My father still liked action and throughout his 70s traveled to Las Vegas (I met him there once), and to Atlantic City (met him there too), and went on cruises—as long as there were ‘comps’ and crap tables, his favorite gambling game. He’d started playing dice on the streets when he was a kid and the bug never left.

By the time he was 75, we were pretty comfortable with each other. To celebrate that birthday the whole family went on a short cruise where he and Matt hung in the ship’s casino, Sue and I chilled, and Jake fell in love (for the trip) with a girl he met at the karaoke bar.

Essentially, what had been at best an arms-length relationship had morphed into a strangely familial one. Strange because neither of us were yet willing to talk about the past, which hung on like a background shadow.

Those discussions began when he was about 85. He had slowed down considerably. I no longer had to have Sue at my side when I visited. And when he needed a hip replacement, I basically moved down there for a month or two, though Sue was also there a great deal of the time.

That’s when some real talk began to occur. He and I used to stay up after everyone was asleep, tv on in the background (tv background seems to be a necessity for men talk. Lets you move your eyes around when things get tough), and slowly, over time, our conversations became more
personal. He talked about his troubles with my mother and sister, and his pain about Lenore’s deterioration and death.

My end of the conversation included talking about the impossibility of living with my mother and sister, that night at the bar with the rebbetzin, his long, long absences. And, finally my embarrassment and dismay at how I treated him when Lenore was sick.

His hip mended. Even though he used a walker, he went back to his shopping, cooking, cleaning, and poker playing. But my visits, with and without Sue, became more frequent. As did her visits without me.

When I was there, those late night conversations continued. I learned more about the decisions he had made and why he had made them. He learned more about my life, my work, my anger towards him, the pleasure of our reconciliation. Sometimes the talks were easy, sometimes damn difficult. But they created a bond that remained for the rest of his life. A bond that will be with me the rest of mine.

This isn’t to say that all the conversations and my many years in therapy erased what had come before. Deep inside me there’s still part of that kid who sat at the bar. Things didn’t just vanish; nothing ever does. I’m still a product of my childhood, however altered.

But it’s almost funny. For so much of my life I never would have imagined that when my dad died, I would lose a friend.

Those Winter Sundays by Robert Hayden
Sundays too my father got up early
and put his clothes on in the blueblack cold,
then with cracked hands that ached
from labor in the weekday weather made
banked fires blaze. No one ever thanked him.

I’d wake and hear the cold splintering, breaking.
When the rooms were warm, he’d call,
and slowly I would rise and dress,
fearing the chronic angers of that house,

Speaking indifferently to him,
who had driven out the cold
and polished my good shoes as well.
What did I know, what did I know
of love’s austere and lonely offices?