June 26, 2009

Deconstructing a title

My background is in accounting and finance. My friend Dorothy has an MBA. And that’s how my book got a title.

I suppose, if ever interviewed for television, I could use that nebulous explanation for one of those sound-bite type responses that TV is, so I’m told, quite fond of.

And, while I wait for the swarm of breathless young news reporters to arrive, this might be a good time for me to just go ahead and offer up a more thorough telling of the book’s title.

Four odd years ago I gave seminars, traveling here and there, to explore some pretty heavy stuff about happiness, money, success and Smarties™ (during the course we played a game that saw folk buying and selling boxes of Smarties™. It was fun).

Let’s now re-introduce Dorothy (who, for the purpose of this paragraph, figures very prominently). You see, Dorothy arranged for me to bring my show to Halifax, and during my visit, she became the pluperfect hostess–going so far as to greet me at the airport, take me to lunch, and give me a walking tour of beautiful, historic Halifax. During our impromptu stroll, we began discussing those weighty meaning-of-life issues, and it was after a rant that questioned why people sacrificed their present for an idyllic future they may never see, that Dorothy stopped me cold.

“You know what you’re describing?” She said, “The Net Present Value of Life.” Then she suggested something more profound, “You should write an article about that.” Which led me to hole myself up, over the next three years, in one of my bedrooms so I could morph a 1200 word essay into a novel.

You might ask, “What’s so inspirational about that murky title?” Before answering, I’d first have to explain the concept of net present value, a term that all financial types instinctively understand. Net present value is used to calculate, in today’s dollars, the future value of money. Think of it this way, given inflation and other factors, a dollar–say ten years from now–is just not worth a dollar anymore.

Now substitute ‘life’ for ‘dollars’ and you get The Net Present Value of Life, a novel that tells how a man reframed his perception about money, career and success, and about how he used that reframing to rediscover his passion, his hunger and, of course, his life.

There you have it, The Net Present Value of Life, catchy title. I always liked it. And, just as an aside, if you’re ever looking for an inspirational spark, Halifax seems to work moderately well.

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June 23, 2009

Mr. Harwood replies

This is, uh, interesting. In a prior post, I explored what it was that made writers write. In that piece, I suggested money wasn’t even close to being a key driver in the writing process. I mentioned a bunch of other stuff too, self-expression, for example, and writers wanting to grab their readers’ attention. Anyway, if you read the post, you know what I mean. To support my case, I also made reference to a podcast in which Seth Harwood describes his own experience with the numbers side of the writing business.

And this is where it gets interesting. Amusing too, if I stop to think about it. Because my post about grabbing attention ended up garnering the attention of none other than Mr. Jack Wakes Up himself. Here is Seth’s reply.

“Here’s the thing: deep down we all want to be successful at what we do. Writers especially. And the world tells us being successful means rich. Or making good money. We want a big TV, a nice vacation, you know, all that stuff.”
“Here’s the other thing: the happiest I am as a writer is when I know people are listening to my work and enjoying it. It’s true. I do love to be heard/read. Having an audience, that’s the best. But, I want to be a writer ONLY, I want to make money from writing. I admit it: I want that to be my career–writer. It’s true. Been a goal for over 12 years. Now, I’m reaching that and it’s not all wine and roses (or vacations) but that’s when my expectations get beyond just the writing. When I focus on just writing, I stay happy. I’m fulfilled. Truth is, it’s a battle–between just writing/working and wanting the financial and major-success appreciation.”

“Still, is that too much to ask? To sit back at the end of the day and know the world appreciates what you’ve done? Shit, I sit back at the end of the day and I do know that. Problem is I sometimes get stuck on what a few people pulling strings in NYC think or what a few numbers say.”

Now imagine my reaction when I saw that in my inbox. Think that didn’t grab my attention? Once I got over the serendipitous surprise of his message, I also noted that Seth’s comments touched on something that my post overlooked; writers love to write because it makes them happy. Which, by extension, translates into the indescribable joy that we all get by reading a great book.

And enjoyment is exactly what you’ll find if you you do me a favor. Buy Jack Wakes Up. Trust me on this one, it’s a great read. You’ll love it.  No, don’t wait ’till later, don’t say you’ll do it after checking your emails, or grabbing another coffee. Just buy it, like right now. And here’s the other thing I’d like you to do. Buy it here or here or here (if you listened to Seth’s podcast you’ll know why).

Alright? Great. Well, thanks everyone, for, you know, visiting. See you later.

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June 21, 2009

The muck and mire of decisions

It’s getting close. The decision on editing and printing, it’s getting close. And here I am, like a driver on a grimy road, oh so close to getting bogged down in the mud and the mess.

It’s not that there aren’t enough choices, it’s that there are too many. Do I use an editor and printer who are local? Should I go with PODs like Lulu, iUniverse or Createspace? Lulu wants six bucks per copy and Createspace four-fifty. But Lulu offers editing and design while Createspace doesn’t. Can you picture the mud and muck slowly starting to rise?

And why? All because of what I’ll call ‘the optimal decision’. Whenever it’s decision time, I find myself lost in the details–running Excel spreadsheets and over-analyzing every last factor and scenario.

And that’s when I remind myself that it’s not really about the decision, but rather the psychology of the decision. You see? It’s not about making the right choice, it’s about being satisfied about the choice I made.  Let me put it another way; once I filter out the obvious egregious examples, they’re all right choices. Ever bought a car while your like-minded neighbor bought the model you eschewed? You’re pretty sure you made the right choice. And your neighbor? Hell she’s pretty sure she made the right choice too. It’s about the psychology and not the choice. And that especially holds true whether you perceive yourself as someone who usually makes the right choice (which I do) or someone who inevitably makes the wrong one (which I don’t). It’s the psychology, that’s all.

So here’s maybe what I’ll do. Go next door. Ask my neighbor.

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June 19, 2009

Why do it?

Why write?

That nagging question’s been popping into my head for a long time. A really long time. I mean, I doubt there are many who write fiction for the money. If you don’t believe me, check out Seth Harwood’s tell-all podcast, The Truth in which he explains the numbers behind his blockbuster novel Jack Wakes Up. Go ahead, give it a listen. I’ll wait……

You’re back? what did you think? Pretty obvious that money’s not a driving force, isn’t it? So why do it?

Paulo Coelho had an interesting observation.  To paraphrase, he surmised that writers write in order to be read. That’s pretty obvious when taken at face value. But dig deeper and more meaning begins to tumble out of Coelho’s comment. Writers, I think, want to exercise self-expression, want to make a contribution, want to share opinions and feelings, and writers want to, I believe,  grab their readers’ attention. Depending on their motives, writers want readers to learn, to laugh, to cry or to just ponder a previously undiscovered  premise.

That last one is my motive for putting my book together (although getting people laughing would be pretty cool too). Oh, and there’s one other reason. I believe that when any of us tries something new, a door opens. Where that door leads is, of course, unknown–a complete mystery. But once it opens, it’s then our duty to walk through and find out what’s waiting on the other side.

And that’s something I can hardly wait for.

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