Today is one of those days that I have about 10 different ideas of what I could write about. Until I realized that all the stories I had to tell had one common theme. Serendipity. A seemingly magical force guiding me to something bigger. Something deeper. Something meaningful.
I don't remember the exact moment I decided to make Rock the Kasbah into a book. But, somewhere along the line while we were still living in Morocco, I did. It didn't even seem like I had a choice in the matter. Not from popular demand, mind you. But an inner voice. It could be a mental disorder. Schizophrenia perhaps. But, I think the voices would be more destructive if that were the case. Like burn the books. Or maybe that's just the delusion I tell myself.
In the early stages when I talked to my favorite Indy author and mentor, Leah Griffith, I shared how kind of ridiculous I felt writing a memoir about myself. As if I'm so important or something. And I asked her about writing her book. She told me she just felt compelled to write it. She just had to do it. Deja fucking vu!
Leah was the one who introduced me to Laine, my editor. The one who urged me to tell more of the story and delve deeper than I wanted to go. And she told me I absolutely must describe every character physically. Including me. Do you know how weird and awkward that is?
As the book progressed, I needed a proofreader. While I was having lunch with friends, I found out my friend,Victoria, used to be a Copy Editor. Who knew? Although we were friends, we weren't close friends at the time and she hadn't read my blog posts. So she was the perfect kinda almost blank slate-ish former copy editor friend for the job. Because of this intimate proof reader-writer bond, we've become closer friends.
Which is weird, because before I came back from Morocco, I sent the universe a plea. Please, please bring me more girlfriends. Women to laugh with. Women to cry with. Women to grow old with. Not that I don't have girlfriends, I DO. But they're kind of like chocolate, you can't possibly max out and not need more.
Which brings me to Lisa. My dark chocolate loving graphic designer friend. Originally, I was going to have my brother-in-law help me design the cover of the book. Back then, I didn't have any idea what I wanted until I talked to him about it on the phone. I started to think about all the things I wanted the cover to convey. Then, I got an idea. And he got busy.
Which is when Lisa offered to help me. I honestly had no idea all the little minute details that go into making a book cover. And she's brilliantly talented. I can tell you this because it is done and sent to Kristen, the interior layout chick I found through Laine, the editor.
Over Thanksgiving, we went to my sister Kathy's house in Utah. I didn't think to bring my laptop even though I knew I'd get the interior layout proof from Kristen and the front and back cover proofs from Lisa. Which necessitated I download all of it on my sister's computer. Which I felt really guilty about. Taking up valuable space on my sister's computer. But now, she gets to be the first person to read the edited, proofread completed book.
Do you see how all intertwined this is? And how everyone in this post is a woman? Coincidence? I think not!
On the day of my annual Halloween party, right before most of the guests arrived, the mailman did. And he came bearing the business cards I ordered. Because, from everything I've read, I'm supposed to have a business card. And I wanted one with style. Which meant I was looking for one with a vintage typewriter on it.
Skip to my birthday. No. Actually, on my birthday I was driving back through the mountain pass of Colorado from Utah with 4 whiny kids. So, skip to the next day when we celebrated my birthday. And Craig gives me the gift he had bought 8 months earlier. Long before I ever realized I needed business cards. He got me a vintage typewriter made by Karmann Ghia in orange to match the convertible car he got me 4 years before.
When I think about it, I guess there's always been one man helping me with this book the whole time.