I think I am coming out of my little "Who am I, why am I here and why do I try?" funk of the past week. We had brunch this morning with our friends Pam & Michael. Pam is a Southern Fiction writer and a good friend of mine. She is also "networking queen," attending and participating in writers conferences and book expo's across the nation. Her husband Michael is a strong behind-the-scenes presence in her career and I come away feeling hopeful and motivated every time we meet with them. They have such vision for where Pam's work will go that it motivates me to do more with my book and career every time we meet.
What also helps is that Michael reminded me of a book I already own called "The Publishing Game" that lays out in 30 days a publicity campaign new authors can follow. Part of my downspiral last week is that I feel unanchored. This book is a good way to say, "Hey, this is what you do Day 1. Then this Day 2. And so on." I'm in need of a plan to make me feel like I'm accomplishing something vs. just blindly shooting at whatever comes into my line of vision.
Blair and I came home from brunch and set about tidying up the files I've been "keeping" on Lessons In Stalking sales. I say "keeping," because it quickly became evident how shoddy my inventory skills are. At one point, Blair had his face in his hands and was rocking back and forth moaning, "Oh my God, Oh my God." It's a terrible thing, to bring an accountant to tears. I didn't even know I had it in me.
During the moaning, I of course burst out laughing and tried to pry his hands away from his face. "I need to hear you say you love me," I said.
"Oh my God," he said, rocking and ignoring me.
I knocked on his hands. "Hel-lo! I made a mess but you still love me, right?"
"I love you," came muffled from behind his hands.
"I need you to look me in the eye and say it."
He shook his head. "No. I can't look at you. You're just going to have to trust that I love you."
So, we spent quite a bit of time on a new SUPER EASY Excel spreadsheet that Dena is sure to master. And after I left him alone with a bag of Doritos and two hours of football, he was in a much better humor.
As for me, I vow to do better. From this day forward, I will become worthy of the name, "Tracking Queen."
Or at least improve my skills enough so I no longer make my husband, the CPA, revert to the fetal position.