It’s been one month since pub date. Last month I flew to Iowa for the launch. And I have some feelings.
First, there are so many other things going on in my life, some rather serious, that have had a grip on my feelings. Getting on that plane, I resolved to enter a zone I had not occupied as the day approached.
The Book Zone
I wrote a book! In fact, this is my second. I am a published author. It always surprises me when people treat that fact with awe. There are so many nitty gritty hair tearing years of anxiety and doubt in the process, I forget to step outside and be just plain impressed. But there it is. It is worthy of awe.
For two weeks, I let myself just be impressed by myself. I was in the Book Zone.
Next came the reunion: Grinnell, Iowa. It was a lifetime ago that I served a congregation and was chaplain to students at the college. Those were hard years—I was in over my head. Old anxieties threatened. I wasn’t good enough back then. Would I be now?
Then something happened. I wasn’t even aware of it until after the fact. I entered the Love Zone.
The Love Zone
I have written about the Love Zone elsewhere. I called it the Speaker’s Trick.
When one loves something, it is possible to forget fear.
That night as I read the story about the baby howler monkey stuck on a rooftop and afraid to cross the telephone wire, I fell in love all over again with that baby monkey. And with the book. And with the people in front of me who hung on every word of the story.
And I forgot my fear.
I got to enjoy the readings. I love that book.
And there I am, at the second reading at Prairie Lights, the premier bookstore in Iowa City, UNESCO City of Literature.
Oh yes, now I’m having fun! These people did their Christmas shopping at my book signing.
What’s Next
Right. The thing those author fantasies don’t tell you is that the book in hand is not where it ends. I came home to a deadline for an article to write about “Seven Memoirs to Inspire You to Pack Your Bags and Go!” And even worse, two more articles with no deadline. So, like, how will I get those written—with no deadline?
Does it strike any other writers as a scam—the amount of writing we do for “exposure”?
Meanwhile, I’m making reservations for the next round of readings, this time in Oregon: Pauline Springs Bookshop in Sisters on July 16, and Oliver’s Bookstore in Prineville on July 18. Then on to Colorado: Barnes and Noble in Loveland on July 25.
Stand by for the readings in County Kerry.
Retracing the geography of my life, this time with a smile and a red dress. And a book.
About That Red Dress
I call it my perfect dress. Wad it up in a suitcase. Shake it out and put it on.
We went to Villa Italia, a restaurant in our neighborhood, two doors and a cow down the lane from our casita in Playas del Coco. An incredible, magical place with twinkly white lights, lazy ceiling fans, and fine crystal.
.The very formal maître d’ was pouring the wine. I was admiring the caprese salad in front of me
But then I was confused. Why was there red liquid in my plate? Then—why was my lap wet?
The maître d’ was horrified. He explained what Helen had witnessed in slow motion, unable to stop. His shirt cuff caught the tip of my glass. He had been serving for fourteen years, and this had NEVER happened before.
I wondered where the restroom was, and how it would be to have this fine meal while sitting in a wet dress after I washed it in a restroom sink. Then I remembered—we lived two doors and a cow up the lane from the restaurant. I said I would simply go home and change.
As I was leaving, I thought—We will get such good service from this restaurant for the next several years out of this!
And we did. The very formal maître d’ welcomed us warmly ever after.
Later, the wine rinsed out of that dress leaving no trace. If you come to a reading, you will see for yourself. I plan to wear my perfect red dress at each one.
Do you have a perfect dress that laughs at red wine?
No.
Yes! and remember it's OK, and good, to revel and rejoice in what you have done so well. Blessings!