Here's a blog I read recently that gave me a good laugh as I closed out the books for 2011 on Poems from the Boatyard:
"Want to make $1.75 a year? Just write a book!"
As Dan Miller writes in his blog: “I love writing in all its forms: blogs, articles, books, etc. However, the statistics for choosing this as a career are dismal. One in four Americans does not read one book per year. Over 1,000,000 new books were published last year. Average book sales for a Christian book put out by a major publisher are about 4,000 copies. AuthorSolutions reports that sales of their self-published titles average about 150 copies each. The average sales overall for a book published in America is about 500.
“Garrison Keillor recently commented on the sustainability of the publishing industry in the Chicago Tribune: “I think that book publishing is about to slide into the sea. We live in a literate time, and our children are writing up a storm, often combining letters and numerals (UR2 1derful)…The future of publishing: 18 million authors in America, each with an average of 14 readers, eight of whom are blood relatives. Average annual earnings: $1.75.”
Well, I slightly surpassed that dismal figure, and expect to do more this year, but if you remove the costs involved in years of buying books and attending workshops, postage for mailing manuscripts, flash drives and other paraphenalia, not mentioning the time investment....I'm well into the negative column by a figure I probably will not approach in my lifetime. But I'm with Dan: I love writing in almost all its forms (I'm discovering this yeaer through freelance work how little I like to produce on demand). And I will keep on writing, because I'm not in it for the money.
But every book sold is satisfying. How nice to tuck a few more bucks in the pocket, and know it was a poem that was responsible. "Desire fulfilled is a tree of life."--Proverbs 13:12
One more post to come about my other low-paying job, and then I will be leaving the boatyard temporarily for another adventure...stay tuned!
Showing posts with label desire. Show all posts
Showing posts with label desire. Show all posts
Monday, January 23, 2012
Saturday, December 3, 2011
From the Boatyard to Kilimanjaro
My friend Susan is walking around with a backpack on a lot these days. If you don't already know why, she'll invite you to ask, by announcing with a big smile: "I'm in training!"
For what (you can't help but ask)?
"I climb Mt. Kilimanjaro in January!"
This week, as temps dropped to 24 degrees F, Susan slept outside to test her sleeping bag. It didn’t work. She didn’t sleep. But at least she's not discovering this on Kilimanjaro. And she went to work the next day.
Why is she climbing? You can read about it here.
What does this have to do with Poems from the Boatyard?
Desire. Dreams. Going for it.
Yep, we’re going back to that subject, friends! It’s the end of the year, a good time to evaluate what dreams got dashed, what dreams inched forward, and what dreams we want to dream for 2012.
There are a lot of reasons why Susan could excuse herself from this climb.
For one thing, she celebrates her 70th birthday next year.
She'll have to test a new sleeping bag out soon, when the temps drop sufficiently.
It’s a climb, not a cakewalk, to 19,000 ft. She has to raise several thousand dollars for expenses.
Before this climb was publicized, she had only minimal awareness of the sex trafficking issue. It was not “her” issue, she confided one day, as she weighed her decision. But, she did her homework, engaged, and is now an articulate and assertive spokeswoman for women without voices.
She had to fly out to Colorado at her own expense for a 3-day retreat with all the climbers, and climb Pike’s Peak (14,000 ft.), a team-building "exercise." (The women had to abort the climb part way up because of weather conditions.)
And, she had to sign on the dotted line that she would raise $10,000 for the freedom of women caught or coming out of sex-trafficking. Or to prevent them ever getting caught in that hellish web.
Susan has not only raised the $10,000, but had a desire to raise $19,000, a dollar for every foot of the climb. At last count, she was up to almost $12,000, and still, um, climbing :)
Susan is not a wealthy woman. She is a bookkeeper in a non-profit. Bookkeepers in non-profits are not exactly known for their deep pockets.
The summit of Mt. Kilimanjaro is known as Uhuru Peak. Uhuru is the Swahili word for freedom. It’s the highest mountain in Africa, and was chosen to symbolize the mountain every woman and child has to climb to get out of slavery.
Talk about desire.
Everyone needs a friend like Susan (scroll down!). I want to write her a check for the remaining $7,000 just to applaud her desire. But poets aren't exactly known for their deep pockets either, and anyway, that wouldn’t be half as much fun as seeing where all these contributions are coming from, and to hear the stories!
This is not a financial appeal (but you can donate here), nor is it intended to guilt you into thinking you're not doing enough.
It is to inspire you to dream.
A New Year is about to begin.
Hold fast to dreams
For if dreams die
Life is a broken-winged bird
That cannot fly.
--Langston Hughes
Sunday, October 2, 2011
Relief
So there he was, this old neighbor, and I recovered control and smiled. We chatted as if we had just seen each other yesterday, while I downloaded the epiphany: home was not just the United States, but a specific geographical location: Oyster Bay, NY. The vague ache I had lived with for years overseas finally felt relief. Returning to the States wasn't enough; I needed to return here.
But home is larger than just a geographical place: it is also the community of people with whom you lived while growing up--the neighborhood an extended living room. Home was the people who waved to you from their cars, whose kids you played with, who you bumped into at the post office and supermarket. They become your extended family. Nobody knows you like these people.
I had gotten that later part--which is why I thought anywhere my friends and family were was home enough for me. We found the local beaches, boatyards and clamshacks in our new geographical locations. But here was a new aspect of home I hadn't ever experienced: a particalar geographical location. Something 'in the blood' recognized it with one simple greeting from a former neighbor.
This man knows me from early childhood. His son is still my brother’s very good friend, at all the weddings and funerals. He knows more than I even know about myself in some ways. And though he knows nothing of me now, that didn’t matter in the brief exchange we had. I had a new definition of ‘home.’ With people who knew my nickname, knew the house I grew up in, knew my father had been building a boat. They knew how long I wore braces, and how I played with the redhead up the street. I didn’t have to explain any of this history to him.
This came at a time in my life when I was a tired foreigner, tired of explaining who I was all the time, to a people for whom personal history mattered. Probably this is true for every culture, whether they know or not. Ancestral worship, genealogy and in America the "Roots" phenomenon of the '70's attest to this longing to know who we are, where we are from and who we belong to.
Every person I met in Lille was so curious as to why on earth an American—especially a New Yorker—would choose to move to their city. They wanted to know my background, about my family, and the geography of my locale. Not in a nosy way--they usually dug these facts out of me with the utmost discretion. But they were curious. They didn’t get the chance to interact with too many Americans, and I was happy to oblige. I was just getting tired after several years of it. Wouldn’t it have been nice to just hand them an autobiographical DVD?!
The relief of not having to repeatedly create history for myself washed over me. Perhaps only ex-pats know this feeling. For some, it’s probably a non-issue. For others, I know they go an entire lifetime with the ache for the homeland throbbing. Now I understood why (although I was dismayed to learn that this opened a new ache; how do you ache for something you didn’t know you didn’t know?!)
Some need to get away from the stifling constraints of home; for others, home created a launching pad into the big wide world, creating the healthy desire to encounter new neighbors, wherever they lived. Good stuff, but a return to roots so often necessary for the soul to breathe.
One of my favorite definitions of home was written by poet Robert Frost, in Death of the Hired Man: "Home is where, when you have to go there, they have to take you in."
The little time warp with my former neighbor opened and closed in a matter of minutes. We moved on to our next errand. I left with my epiphany, the basis of all good poems. Funny…I still haven’t written that poem...
But home is larger than just a geographical place: it is also the community of people with whom you lived while growing up--the neighborhood an extended living room. Home was the people who waved to you from their cars, whose kids you played with, who you bumped into at the post office and supermarket. They become your extended family. Nobody knows you like these people.
I had gotten that later part--which is why I thought anywhere my friends and family were was home enough for me. We found the local beaches, boatyards and clamshacks in our new geographical locations. But here was a new aspect of home I hadn't ever experienced: a particalar geographical location. Something 'in the blood' recognized it with one simple greeting from a former neighbor.
This man knows me from early childhood. His son is still my brother’s very good friend, at all the weddings and funerals. He knows more than I even know about myself in some ways. And though he knows nothing of me now, that didn’t matter in the brief exchange we had. I had a new definition of ‘home.’ With people who knew my nickname, knew the house I grew up in, knew my father had been building a boat. They knew how long I wore braces, and how I played with the redhead up the street. I didn’t have to explain any of this history to him.
This came at a time in my life when I was a tired foreigner, tired of explaining who I was all the time, to a people for whom personal history mattered. Probably this is true for every culture, whether they know or not. Ancestral worship, genealogy and in America the "Roots" phenomenon of the '70's attest to this longing to know who we are, where we are from and who we belong to.
Every person I met in Lille was so curious as to why on earth an American—especially a New Yorker—would choose to move to their city. They wanted to know my background, about my family, and the geography of my locale. Not in a nosy way--they usually dug these facts out of me with the utmost discretion. But they were curious. They didn’t get the chance to interact with too many Americans, and I was happy to oblige. I was just getting tired after several years of it. Wouldn’t it have been nice to just hand them an autobiographical DVD?!
The relief of not having to repeatedly create history for myself washed over me. Perhaps only ex-pats know this feeling. For some, it’s probably a non-issue. For others, I know they go an entire lifetime with the ache for the homeland throbbing. Now I understood why (although I was dismayed to learn that this opened a new ache; how do you ache for something you didn’t know you didn’t know?!)
Some need to get away from the stifling constraints of home; for others, home created a launching pad into the big wide world, creating the healthy desire to encounter new neighbors, wherever they lived. Good stuff, but a return to roots so often necessary for the soul to breathe.
One of my favorite definitions of home was written by poet Robert Frost, in Death of the Hired Man: "Home is where, when you have to go there, they have to take you in."
The little time warp with my former neighbor opened and closed in a matter of minutes. We moved on to our next errand. I left with my epiphany, the basis of all good poems. Funny…I still haven’t written that poem...
Friday, May 13, 2011
Climbing the Hills of Desire
So! What do you earnestly desire? Have you had time to think about it this week? What did you come up with?
Are you having a hard time digging out that desire? Or are you, like me, probing—what do I earnestly desire now? Maybe some dreams and desires have come about; do you stop there? Are there any more on the list, or do you need a new list? Maybe you got your dream, but you aren’t challenged by it anymore. Maybe you don’t even like it anymore. Maybe it changed you, and you don’t know how to incorporate the change into life as you’ve known it. Or you gave up dreaming, because it’s been decades, and, well, maybe you just got it wrong. Maybe this dreaming stuff is all a load of hooey.
I could believe that except for the restless expansion always going on inside of me, and no doubt inside of you. And isn't it interesting how that aligns with the fact of the Universe always expanding, that children are always growing, gardens are always overtaking the neat boundaries we place on them, cities sprawl and the social network--well, how many friends do you have now?!
As Nelson Mandela said, “After climbing a great hill, one only finds that there are many more hills to climb.”
For those of you who are weary of the great hill in your life, Mandela has a word: “I have taken a moment here to rest, to steal a view of the glorious vista that surrounds me, to look back on the distance I have come. But I can only rest for a moment, for with freedom comes responsibilities, and I dare not linger, for my long walk is not ended.”
Keep walking, my friends, and keep climbing. Your long walk is not yet ended.
Are you having a hard time digging out that desire? Or are you, like me, probing—what do I earnestly desire now? Maybe some dreams and desires have come about; do you stop there? Are there any more on the list, or do you need a new list? Maybe you got your dream, but you aren’t challenged by it anymore. Maybe you don’t even like it anymore. Maybe it changed you, and you don’t know how to incorporate the change into life as you’ve known it. Or you gave up dreaming, because it’s been decades, and, well, maybe you just got it wrong. Maybe this dreaming stuff is all a load of hooey.
I could believe that except for the restless expansion always going on inside of me, and no doubt inside of you. And isn't it interesting how that aligns with the fact of the Universe always expanding, that children are always growing, gardens are always overtaking the neat boundaries we place on them, cities sprawl and the social network--well, how many friends do you have now?!
As Nelson Mandela said, “After climbing a great hill, one only finds that there are many more hills to climb.”
For those of you who are weary of the great hill in your life, Mandela has a word: “I have taken a moment here to rest, to steal a view of the glorious vista that surrounds me, to look back on the distance I have come. But I can only rest for a moment, for with freedom comes responsibilities, and I dare not linger, for my long walk is not ended.”
Keep walking, my friends, and keep climbing. Your long walk is not yet ended.
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
The Poet & The Paradox
Alert readers will pick up the paradox of my last post. Since no one mentioned it, allow me!
On the one hand, I can tell myself it is selfish to pursue my dream. I may waste years in the pursuit, and valuable time or money, right? (This assumes the product is more important than the process.) I may sacrifice my children’s education, my marriage, my financial stability, in order to accomplish my dream. I may not eat this week, or pay my bills. If I pursue my dreams, I cause others to sacrifice. They lose out because of my focus. They may not eat this week!
On the other hand, I can tell myself that if I pursue my dreams, I will become a larger person. The discipline, dedication and perseverance build my character. Relationships and networks form that might never happen otherwise. I might actually inspire others, and foster their dreams. My dream, realized, might even provide for others, generating new ideas, income and relationships. So I owe it to others to pursue my dreams, right?
I’ve tried both philosophies. How about you?
With the paradox comes the deeper question: how important is it to pursue a dream?
My current paradigm is: I would rather start something and not be able to finish, than to not start for fear of not finishing. No guts, no glory. No pain, no gain.
And here are some things I’ve discovered: I have to pursue dreams. I become a larger person. It is a divine attribute; there is something eternal about it, life-giving, life-saving. It can go toxic. I have to know when it’s time to sell the boat. I’d rather trust and enjoy the process than worry about the product, although I admit, the ‘product’ of this chapbook is mighty satisfying!
So I’m going to ask you a question someone asked me once, with profound repercussions: What do you earnestly desire? If you can’t name that, take some time soon to dig it out. Listen to Thomas Traherne, 17th C. poet from England, for the most affirming message on desire I’ve ever come across:
“Desire is a mighty force, one of your most divine attributes! Whatsoever thing ye desire when ye pray believe that ye have received them and ye shall have them! See the God-like quality of desire. For it is part of the Atomic energy of the soul. The Kingdom of heaven within you is operating through desire. Do not quench it or crush it or suppress it. Rather offer it to Me. Offer Me your most elementary desires, your craving for happiness, for love, for self-expression, for well-being, for success, for joy, on any level of your being—offer these freely and without shame to me and I will transmute them so that you shall achieve release and fulfillment and complete freedom from frustration.”
Kinda makes you want to go home and make a list, eh?!
What do you earnestly desire?
On the one hand, I can tell myself it is selfish to pursue my dream. I may waste years in the pursuit, and valuable time or money, right? (This assumes the product is more important than the process.) I may sacrifice my children’s education, my marriage, my financial stability, in order to accomplish my dream. I may not eat this week, or pay my bills. If I pursue my dreams, I cause others to sacrifice. They lose out because of my focus. They may not eat this week!
On the other hand, I can tell myself that if I pursue my dreams, I will become a larger person. The discipline, dedication and perseverance build my character. Relationships and networks form that might never happen otherwise. I might actually inspire others, and foster their dreams. My dream, realized, might even provide for others, generating new ideas, income and relationships. So I owe it to others to pursue my dreams, right?
I’ve tried both philosophies. How about you?
With the paradox comes the deeper question: how important is it to pursue a dream?
My current paradigm is: I would rather start something and not be able to finish, than to not start for fear of not finishing. No guts, no glory. No pain, no gain.
And here are some things I’ve discovered: I have to pursue dreams. I become a larger person. It is a divine attribute; there is something eternal about it, life-giving, life-saving. It can go toxic. I have to know when it’s time to sell the boat. I’d rather trust and enjoy the process than worry about the product, although I admit, the ‘product’ of this chapbook is mighty satisfying!
So I’m going to ask you a question someone asked me once, with profound repercussions: What do you earnestly desire? If you can’t name that, take some time soon to dig it out. Listen to Thomas Traherne, 17th C. poet from England, for the most affirming message on desire I’ve ever come across:
“Desire is a mighty force, one of your most divine attributes! Whatsoever thing ye desire when ye pray believe that ye have received them and ye shall have them! See the God-like quality of desire. For it is part of the Atomic energy of the soul. The Kingdom of heaven within you is operating through desire. Do not quench it or crush it or suppress it. Rather offer it to Me. Offer Me your most elementary desires, your craving for happiness, for love, for self-expression, for well-being, for success, for joy, on any level of your being—offer these freely and without shame to me and I will transmute them so that you shall achieve release and fulfillment and complete freedom from frustration.”
Kinda makes you want to go home and make a list, eh?!
What do you earnestly desire?
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