Coffee Novelist

I don’t write about coffee, I write about what coffee does. How it collects us, unites us and affects us.

Why I bought a book

 

This was the second time I had stopped into the independent bookstore closest to me to try to get them interested in carrying my novel, The Trier. The first visit I left my promotional signing card, my business card, and, I thought, a good impression.

I had heard nothing in a week from the decision maker. Clearly I had done something wrong this first time. I knew what it was. I did not leave an actual copy of The Trier, for them the first time around. How could the decision maker decide to carry my novel based on a postcard tossed onto their desk?

This second visit went smoothly. This time I left real copy of the book for the decision maker. A different bookseller assured me that things take time and that they would respond via email with a follow up.

“Ok,” I said. “But I am having a signing at Tomorrow Books in two weeks. Just so you know.” This had to help. It made me look legitimate, like the decision maker better get back to me before it is too late.

“Fine.” Replied the bookseller.

Decision time

What now? That was all I got back? The bookseller, nice enough in the way the bookseller on the first visit was. A pat on the head. Now go chew your on your old tennis ball. However, he did not rush to text the decision maker about my fast dwindling availability. What now?

Buy something. Of course. Buy a book to sell a book. I’ll do just that.

But which one? Why do they have so many? Which one will make me look best in the eyes of the bookseller and decision maker. Why did these people have to write all these damn books?

I was taking too long, looking indecisive. Not good. It isn’t a library, fool. Buy something.

I had to make the right choice, something coffee related. A lot of great author’s drank coffee. Pepys wrote his famous diary in a London coffee house. Rimbaud actually sold green coffee for a living.

I felt the alarm on my internal clock go off as I looked up to see Henry Miller, Happy Rock by Miller’s long time friend Gyula Halasz, known as Brassai. This is it. Upon purchase, I can explain to the bookseller how this book ties my own two novels together. I used Henry Miller’s made up word, Cosmodemonic one hundred ninety nine times in Tripio. And in The Trier is a ultra-witty reference to Brassai that the copy editor had to ask me to explain. This will work. The perfect conversation piece to display my worthiness of an email response.

The perfect choice

You remember I said it was the closest bookstore to my house? That makes it very likely that I may run into someone I know. Which I did as I was checking out. She must have walked in while I was in back, focused on appearing calm. She had a couple books in hand and we exchanged pleasantries upon seeing one another.

The person in front of us paid. As we stepped up to pay the pleasantries became inquires. My friend asked, “Why are you buying a book by dirty old man Henry Miller?”

“Oh,” I said looking askance at the bookseller, ” I just like to do my Christmas shopping early. My brother loves him.”

I paid for the book, she hers, and we resumed pleasantries as we left.

I spent the weekend reading Happy Rock and checking my Gmail.

Let me know when you get a response.

I owe the planet for my coffee

 

I owe the planet for all the coffee I’ve consumed over the years. So, when I was invited to the Hooser Climate Party on Indianapolis’s Massachusetts Avenue, I had to attend.

The invitation was extended as a indirect result of the recent book signing event for my novel, The Trier. In the novel, the “bad guy”, Kaldi, is running through time from the forest spirits of Ethiopia for not leaving his tribute to the forest for having discovered the coffee and all it’s wonderful attributes. I felt that I could not write a book with a plot line like that and not leave my own tribute, as it were.

                                               http://www.carbonneutralindiana.org

Starting to pay it back

I went to the Climate Party in part to see what I could do closer to home, and in the present, to combat global warming, climate change, and the failure to pay the planet back for what it has provided us.

I knew none of the several hundred people at the event. The plan for the evening was for folks from all walks of life to get to know each other, talk, and trade experiences on trying to become carbon neutral. It turns out that I am not as far along as I thought, plot line of my published book notwithstanding.

The intention for the event was not to shame people for what they haven’t done. It was meant as a starting point for people who didn’t know where else to start on the path to becoming carbon neutral in their lives. I listened, ate some free food, and even forced myself to meet people, which was not easy for me.

 

Toward the end of my time I ventured to the table holding the tree and tablet next to it.  Your answer was meant to be written on one of the ribbons and on the cardboard tablet. I was one on the few who wrote both on the cardboard tablet and ribbon. Can’t help that self-publishing is in my blood.

I still drink my coffee but will leave my tribute going forward

My answer was obvious…”my coffee.” It was a gesture, a quick thought acted upon. The latter is the same process that has taken us to the point where we have to do something about the climate. The same week of the event in Indy, the world experienced it’s hottest month on record. My quick thought acted upon could have been tossing a plastic water bottle onto the curb. Or not. I can keep a box or bag in my car for the water bottles and recycle them at the end of the week. Perhaps I can plant a garden, or take the bus to work once a week.

The list of options is longer than my novel. I think is was a Hoosier legend name John Wooden who said that little things make big things happen.

And if I have to act on a couple little, quick thoughts from time to time to help the generous planet, I suspect that I will enjoy my coffee even more.

 

 

I just feel like people don’t think about policy and regulations with an empty plastic bottle in their hand.

 

My decision to self-publish was found in a brown paper bag

“Could there be some silent audience eagerly awaiting his new novel? Some hidden force unrecognized by the publishing and critical world of New York City, which, like an orbiting space station, looks upon the rest of America without ever interacting with it?

-excerpt from Less is Lost by Andrew Sean Greer

I can’t help feeling that the space has contracted, that our national
literature has been reduced. We live in a nation of 3.8 million square miles. The Big Five
publishing houses are located within a few subway stops of each other in Manhattan; that
rich island which represents 0.000887 percent of our country’s surface. This is not benign.
Our literary culture has distended and warped by focusing so much power in a singular place, by crowding the gatekeepers into a small ditch of commerce. A review in the Times trumps
everything else. You can’t tell me that this doesn’t affect what is, finally, bound into books,
marketed, and sold. Which designates what can be said and how one says it. Why do we cede
American letters to a handful of corporations that exist on a single concrete patch?”

Matthew Neill Null

Big Five or self-publish?

The top except is from a novel I’m reading entitled Less is Lost. I read it and laughed out loud. The quote stayed with me and hours later, I found myself digging into my archives to find the syllabus from a class I took at the Indiana Writer’s Center about five years ago called, The Basics of Self-Publishing, taught by local YA author Robert Kent. The second excerpt is from that class.

I may not have followed up on the top excerpt if I hadn’t just put my second novel out on Amazon and Ingram Spark. I resist using the word publish in relation to Amazon and Spark because they are platforms, internet shelf space, static things. They do not align with any active verb. When you chose to self-publish, you very much self publish.

After two novels, I wouldn’t have it any other way.  However, looking back, I chose the path of self-publishing, author-directed publishing, or what ever you like to call it because of a brown paper bag. It’s true. Was is the most rational, emotion free decision I’ve ever made? Probably not.

 

The Big Five publishing houses are:

 

One critical element that I feel is missing from the Null quote is that the folks at the Big Five are folks whose jobs depend on the books they chose to publish. Because it is their job to sell books. Why risk delivering subs on a bike in mid-town Manhattan for your novel?

This seems familiar

Years ago I was trying to get my first novel Tripio published via the traditional method. It was what I knew, what I was supposed to do. All you writers out there know it: query letters, find an agent, submit, submit, submit. It didn’t take long for me to see this as another job search. Searching for a job you knew you could do when you needed it, really needed it.  If you haven’t’ been in that position, consider yourself fortunate.

Here is that part where I expect you think me a little wacky. Well before I could even think about sitting down for five minutes a day, let alone writing a novel, I was laid off. Sent home jobless, over a Christmas season with four young kids at home. Laid the fuck off.

Have yourself a merry little Christmas

I will always remember a neighbor, two days before that Christmas bringing us shampoo, bar soap, toothpaste. The neighbor had been in similar position a few years ago and offered the brown paper bag full of necessities as a gift, not charity, not as a label that said she thought my family’s situation was hopeless. The brown paper bag was filled with practical things, which my kids, wife, and I all used over the Holidays that year.

So when I started looking for agents, submitting to publishers, it brought all this back. I had spent way too much time writing cover letters, filling out applications, submitting access to my livelihood to people whose livelihood depended on a decision they made. Hire that guy. Sell a book. It is a process too much like that of a writer hoping to get noticed by a publishing house.

The cat is out of the bag

I looked for a different option. One I hoped would be more transparent, less subjective. After a bit I found the alternative universe of Self-Publishing.

Was this an abstract thought process? One made without emotion? No. First of all there is no such thing. No. I recognize that. I even understand that one day I may sign with a Big 5 house and look back on all this shaking my head, knowing better, knowing I was being foolish.

But I doubt it.

Is inbred too strong a word?

I feel like any value or use found in a post called a leave in for the mind, will still have value a couple years after it was posted. That is the point, isn’t it? I posted these leave ins a couple years ago, and feel like they hold up. See what you think.

1. The mind is only one click away from your purse, wallet and credit card
2. Mistakes are self created learning opportunities
3. You can only really see the big picture when it is still small
4. Prepare for the long haul but take a few swings at the long ball
5. There are a lot of people doing a lot of jobs a lot worse than mine
6. Talent, if there is such a thing, is hard work photoshopped (this one is a bit dated by the reference to photoshop)
7. As a writer, when you are writing, you must not be the one telling the story (this one was proven to be even more accurate when The Trier was undergoing editing)
8. I spent yesterday making tomorrow a good day
9. It is good to do what you can, but even better to do what you can’t
10. You can’t go through each day looking for sharpened pencil
11. Before you spout it, doubt it
12. If there are only two sides to your story, don’t bother telling it
13. If one of us is, then we all are, because we all are one

                                                               I think 8 is still my favorite

 

It was great

I had a great time yesterday.

I went on a antiques road trip in southwestern Indiana with two of my young adult kids. We stopped at antique shops, some open, some closed, some big, some small. We drove a loop that took us to about six hours, stopped to eat, and found a few things to buy. And for me, one of the many great things about the whole trip was that I did not drive a mile of it.

I have driven the young adults all over Indiana for well over twenty years and now it is my turn to be a passenger. And it was great.

It is great

Great to sit in the back seat, take in rural Indiana on July 4th weekend and allow my mind to go where it wants. In the front, the driver and navigator were doing much the same as my mind, just going along the path, and stopping anywhere that looked promising. They stopped at antique stores, while my mind stopped repeatedly at the word great.

It did that because a few nights before the trip, I watched a documentary on AMC called, Something’s Gonna Live.

A few weeks before that, my second novel The Trier came out on Amazon. A few months before that, it was edited, proofread and revised. And the year or more before that, I was working on bringing it out of my mind and putting the words on the pages.

 

These were a great road trip snack

So, what do I tell people about the book now that it’s out there? I would tell them, and have told folks, that it is great. But, how the hell would I know?

 

Is it great?

I know for sure that the times I spent working on the bringing the book out of me were spent alone, very early in the morning, and witnessed only by my ever present coffee cup. No one insisted I do any of it. No one really cared if it happened or not. But when a paragraph or even a line or two was realized on this screen, usually after several revisions and mornings, I had a great time.

Which brings my back to a the quote in the movie that stuck in my mind. I found it there on the antique road trip around Clayton, Indiana and a small farmer’s market. No antiques here, just Chee Wees Original Cheese Curls.

That was great

The quote was from one the men in the film, and I forget who. But I it was “I don’t know if any of the films we made were great. But what was great, was trying to make them great.”

That is the great I get to keep for myself. Those anonymous moments ass achingly early writing The Trier, when I felt good enough about a line or paragraph that it could carry me through the entire following work day.

That is how I define The Trier being great. I’ll keep that definition for myself. If the book is or isn’t great by someone else’s definition of great, then that is good by me. It’s not going to change my mind.

Just like the antiques road trip, the real value was in the journey.

Great post, wasn’t it??

 

Ten thoughts I wrote down

Image result for the thinker with coffee

 

Don’t translate, answer.”

Those were the instruction from my Russian professor in college. He wanted his students to answer his questions posed in Russian as responses, not having taken the extra step to translate from Russian to English to Russian to answer. I have something similar in mind with the thoughts I’m listing below. They are collected from my Sketchbooks of the Mind (journals) from the recent past. When you read them, just think them over. No need to like, comment or even agree or disagree.

I’m not after clicks, as is so often the intent of list posts. In other words, “Don’t click, think”. Have fun…

1.One cannot breathe yesterday's air
2.The universal truths are universal because the truth in them is different for everyone
3.My mind is my dedicated work space
4.If you don't posses it, you can not address it
5.If you can't let it go, at least let it flow
6.America is the land of cardboard boxes
7.The journey is not difficult once you decided to take it
8.Live cheaply to sleep deeply
9.It's not the book, the painting, the creation that matters, but what the creation creates that is most important
10.My life is hard enough for me to appreciate just how easy it is

 

This is a repost. The thoughts still apply.

 

 

Take me to the river

This works for me. It really does. I have been tossing my attachments log into the Ohio River for at least five years now. It surprised me when I checked on the archives of the blog to see that I had only posted about it one other time.  Perhaps because it is almost too personal a ritual for me. The history baked into it starts closer to ten years ago. In fact, I know there is a paper attached to the log from close to thirty years ago. Maybe that is the point. If it were easy to post about, to toss it all away, then why do it at all?

The river takes it away

When the river moves on past me, it only brings with it what it can carry.  What it doesn’t have the energy or inclination to bring with it that day, the river leaves on the shore in the form of drift logs.

I find one there each year. On random days throughout the following year, I tape, glue, or staple mementoes of the year, or years past, onto it. My young adult kids and I take a long weekend every year at the same cabin on the river every summer. One of mornings when the river seems most calm and receptive, I do a bit of yoga, a short meditation and toss the attachments log as for into the river as I can. It then then moves off downriver. Works for both of us.

A trip to the river every year

This year I have taped a page of the interior design of my upcoming novel to my attachments log. The book comes out June 15th. I must say that it is an attractive cover and the interior design is just as enticing. I would even say that the interior design on The Trier was one of the revelations to me in bringing The Trier to market. I now know what interior design is. But it had to go.

It had to go so I can keep on writing. So I can move on to the next book in the series. So I can not become distracted by possible sales. So, I don’t allow yesterday to clog, block, or take anything out of today.

In order to it all to work, I put mementoes of all types of things on the log. Kroger receipts, reminders, copies of appointment confirmations, some going as far back one for my oldest son who will be thirty in a few months.  To the river, all these are the same.

If you don’t believe me, take a look at the photo below. The attachments log is a dot in the middle of the picture.

 

See you next year



The grind for my mind

My double espresso is pouring slowly and with intent into my favorite doppio cup. It is not yet five in the morning. In a few minutes I will go outside to sit and write or journal to the birds chirping up in the branches, still unseen, as it will be too dark

 My mind wants my body and  it’s five senses to be up and at it. My super and subconscious minds know that it will be a good day today. As a result, they woke me before the alarm. They know because my conscious mind, physical body, and five sense worked on this yesterday and the day before, and before that. I cooperated and got out of bed. This is a routine, a bargain, an understanding that I call the “mind grind”.

 

From grind to mind

 

It follows then, that in order to have my clear, energized mind produce and create the day I want, I have to prepare. If I want a great doppio at five in the morning, I have to prepare for it. It don’t just happen. Nothing does, nothing just happens. One conscious action I took a couple weeks ago to make a great doppio this morning was to buy the correct type of beans to make my doppio.

On Sunday, I grind a week’s worth. I have decades of practice listening to beans being ground. I know when they are ground fine enough to produce a perfect shot. Then I transfer these grounds into in a smaller, glass airtight container next to my espresso maker. There they sit until the follow day, waiting to become my doppio. The intensely flavored, crema topped doppio is the perfect start to my morning. Again, it doesn’t just happen. It takes a series of conscious intentional thoughts to create the actions that create the perfect doppio.

 

Find your mind grind

Apply the same process to creating the morning mind you wake up with. It takes intentional actions and preparation but like my crema topped doppio, it is well worth it. The doppio won’t make itself. Nothing just happens. If I want my mind to match the beautiful, functional simplicity of my doppio, it takes work and preparation as well.

I don’t want to exhaust the metaphor here, but the beans in the mind grind equation here would be my yoga practice. The body and mind are linked. The issues are in our tissues, as the wisdom goes. I do quick yoga practice every day before work. This practice is brief but done with focused thought. The weekends will usually find me doing two longer practices. On those days I will add a meditation, sometimes practice the 5 Tibetans, and possibly some resistance with weights.

Other weekends find me hitting the treadmill and sauna at my local gym. In each and every case, I have developed mental exercises that accompany and enhance the physical. For example, in the sauna I image my fears and doubts leaving my body and mind in the form of drops of sweat. Hey, it works for me.

Be your own mental barista

There is more. I could add journaling, writing fiction, blogging, recording voice memos and many other practices to my mental self-care routine. The common thread to all of them is that they are intentional. They are all things I feel like I have to do to create my simple functional, clear and energetic mind.

It is work though. To me that means it would be easier not to do them. But, I do not want to drink a doppio, or any coffee drink, made for someone else, by someone else. That would be like grabbing someone else’s drink from the counter at a busy Starbucks and taking it with you. You are stuck with it. It may be coffee, but was it really yours? Ask the same of your thoughts. Who made them? Was it really for me or are they made by a mental barista who really doesn’t care?

I ain’t sayin’ this from a mountain top of course. I am just sharing that I have found a coffee grind and a mind grind that works for me. There is no doubt that you will find your own mind grind. Don’t worry, you will know it is working when you taste it.

 

 

This is a revised repost to honor International Yoga Day