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I have often thought that being both a Cubs fan and a Democrat is a recipe for eternal heartbreak.

You root for your side, and you cannot see how others can’t believe in it, too.  You become emotionally invested because you know that the country, nay, the world, will be a better place once your side wins the big prize. 

And you get close.  Ohhhh, so close.  But so often, when all is said and done, you end up having your heart broken as, once again, your team manages to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory.

Thus has it been, for both the Cubs fan and the Democrat, for a long time.  For Democrats, since 2000; for Cubs fans - since 1908.

Well, as of today, I only have one chance left at happiness.  For the Cubs have, once again, managed a colossal choke of unimaginable scale.

This team, this team that lead the entire National League for most of the season, compiled the best record, could hit, pitch, defend - do it all - suddenly forgot how to play the game. 

They didn’t just forget; they barely seemed to show up, and they were swept out of the first round of the playoffs by the Dodgers.  For three games, we only managed to score six runs.  That’s not six runs a game, mind you; that’s six runs.  Total.

So once again there’s crying in Wrigleyville.  And we have a long, cold winter ahead of us in which to suffer and sigh and dream, “Maybe next year.”

Democrats, you’re on notice.  Do NOT blow it in November! 

Signed, a heartbroken Democrat Cub Fan. 

(Even though Obama’s from the south side of Chicago and thus, a Sox fan - but I will forgive him that one flaw.)

* * * *

OK, just because I thought we could all use a little pick-me-up, I wanted to let you know about this fantabulous site called  Project Rungay.  It’s adorable!  And the best blog about fashion and fashion reality shows I’ve ever read.  It put a smile on my face. 

Unlike the Cubs. 

Today’s DAH’s birthday.  Happy Birthday, honey!  Remember, you’ll always be older than me!!

Anyway. 

I was making a grocery list for today.  Older son is coming home for the weekend and since he eats nothing but rice in his little college apartment, he has requested lots and lots of food. 

But with all the fear and horrible economic news, I’ve started questioning every single purchase I make.  And this is the thing - we’re fine.  DAH has a job, our house is safe, yes, everything costs more and that has definitely made us cut back.  But basically, our financial picture - being that it’s a pretty small, basic picture; boy am I glad we’ve never had enough money to invest in the market! - is unchanged.

Yet.  I found myself, as I made the list, totally panicking.  It felt really frivolous - actually, more like criminally extravagant -  to even contemplate buying tortilla chips for my son.  Or an entire gallon of milk. 

But that was nothing compared to the birthday cake itself.  DAH and the boys like this particular cake from our grocery store’s bakery; just a basic buttercream frosting sheet cake.  But those cakes - the small ones! - are like $20.  And I thought of that, and I just panicked.  $20 for a cake?  $20!!!  We can’t do that!  Who can buy a $20 cake when we’re in the middle of the worst economic Depression in the history of economic, um, Depressions?!

So I asked DAH if I could bake him a $5 Duncan Hines mix cake instead.  He made a face and whined, “But it’s my birthday!” and so I reluctantly agreed to buy the $20 cake, reminding him that because of this our children probably won’t be able to finish college.

And this, I think, is the danger of this current economical climate.

Even people who can afford to buy $20 cakes aren’t.  Just because they’re afraid.  It was ridiculous, of course - but my panic was very real.  And when I was at the grocery store I found myself putting things back at the last minute, because again - I felt criminally extravagant purchasing them, convinced that if I did, my family would lose our home. 

Not rational.  Not at all - but certainly, I’m not the only person who feels this way right now. 

Am I?

* * *

PS - Oh, Cubs.  Sigh.  This is what it’s like to be a Cubs fan - your team is the best in the National League ALL SEASON LONG; they have more players picked to be on the All Star team than any other club.  So they get to the first round of playoffs and -

They start playing like bad Little Leaguers, and now we’re down 0-2 (at home, mind you), and now have to overcome history (in the Division Series, anyway) to win 3 straight, in order to move on.  This is why Chicagoans drink a lot of beer.

PPS - Debate.  Palin vs. Biden.  Um - sorry.  The bar was quite low for her and admittedly, she passed it.  But I don’t want a Vice President (or by extension, a President) who winks at  foreign leaders.  Or who admittedly won’t answer the questions asked of her.  Or who keeps dropping all the “g’s” from the ends of her words.  She’s nothing.  An empty suit who sounds down home and folksy but has no substance, can’t answer policy questions (and the debate format, of course, didn’t allow for the moderator to really pin her down on this), and who just has no business being on the national stage. 

Bottom line - I don’t want a Vice President (Or, again, by extension, a President) with whom I can relate because she’s just like me, and not really that smart or experienced but boy, gosh darn it, she sure can tell an adorably folksy story.  No, I want a President who’s a whole lot smarter than me, and isn’t afraid to act like it because, after all - he’s the frickin’ PRESIDENT!!

Mostly, I don’t want a President who winks and blows kisses. 

It’s October 1st…and I had to turn the heater on this morning, for the first time.

Bye bye, summer!  My garden was beautiful, we had many fun nights outside with friends, watching movies on the giant backyard theater screen, but I’m ready for fall. 

Day before yesterday, I put all my fall and Halloween decorations up.  Now, at first, I wasn’t sure that I would.  It’s a lot of hauling and dragging and packing away certain things in order to make room for the harvest-themed items.  This isn’t something that just takes me an afternoon, not when you count the outdoors, too. 

So I thought, well - why?  The kids are grown, does it really matter anymore?  Plus, you know, with the prevailing economic mood, it seemed kind of silly.  Frivolous. 

But then I did it, anyway.  Grumbling, sweating, cursing a little.  It took a couple of days to get it all done, everything clean and tidy. 

And when I had finished, I was really, really glad I had done it.  The truth is, in these uncertain times, when it seems bad news is just a minute or a mouse click away, we need silly things.  Grinning pumpkins, flying witches, dangling ghosts.  Jack-o-lantern containers full of candy corn.  They put a smile on our faces.  I really feel like I, personally, was responsible for the good humor of my entire neighborhood, as everyone smiles as they walk past our yard.

And it didn’t cost anything, because I didn’t buy anything new.  Except the candy.  And a few small pumpkins and gourds for an outdoor arrangement.  Which has resulted in a war, of sorts, between me and the squirrels, but again - that’s kind of fun.  A little levity - it’s much more amusing to bitch about squirrels than it is about Congress.

So.  Even in these odd, unsettling times…even if your kids are grown and claim not to care anymore what you do with the house (but you know, deep inside, that they do)…I heartily recommend going to the trouble of festively decorating for the season.  For all seasons. 

Sometimes, all it takes is a plastic pumpkin to make your day.

* * *

PS - I keep spraying my gourds with a clear coating of water proof shoe spray, to keep the damn squirrels away.  Any other tips?  Because if I don’t do this every five minutes, it seems, the little buggers are NOT deterred. 

PPS - GO CUBS!!!!

PPPS - Go over to Karen Dionne’s website and take part in her online launch party for her debut novel, FREEZING POINT!

Saturday was Homecoming here in my little town.  We went downtown on Saturday morning to cheer the parade - the marching band, homemade floats (Younger Son’s float won Best in Class!); then there was the football game (we won, 69-13!), then the rush to get all the kids in their finery for the Homecoming Dance.

Younger Son and his date were part of a big group that went to dinner together beforehand.  So there was the usual picture party at one of the girl’s house.  The weather was perfect, the boys looked very handsome in their suits and the girls looked like lovely butterflies in their dresses.

As I looked at them, I remembered how I felt back in high school when Homecoming and Prom were such major events.  I felt so excited to get dressed up in fancy clothes, wear high heels, get a lovely corsage - I felt like I was getting a taste of the world of adults.  I thought it was only the beginning of such high class events.

HAH!

Now I know - it was the end of them.  For what adult among us has gone to a fancy event wearing a cocktail or formal dress, with any regularity in the last couple of decades?  Um, I’m not raising my hand here.

The only fancy wedding I’ve attended in twenty years, I was a bridesmaid.  So no fancy dress required there.  DAH’s employer stopped having fancy Christmas parties years and years ago, in order to cut down on costs.  Sensible, yes - but not much fun.

We’re not part of the country club set, so we don’t have any balls or charity auctions or dinners to attend.

Now, isn’t this all a bit sad?  More evidence that we peak when we’re 18, and it’s all downhill from there? 

Just when did all the glamour go out of being a grown up?  We read accounts of life in the 40’s, 50’s - and there were nightclubs and dinner parties all the time.  Every woman had some kind of formal gown in her closet.  I’ll pause right here and wait while you run up to your bedroom and check your closet - but I bet you won’t find one there.

Today it’s all just so casual - and of course, in the current economic climate, it doesn’t seem as if that’s going to change any time soon. 

I wonder, if I’d known, back when I was 18, that instead of being the start of some wonderful, glamorous adult life, it was really the end of such opportunities - I wonder if I would have valued it all more.  Savored it, tried to memorize it.  

Probably not.  When you’re 18, you don’t think long term.  You live for the moment.

Still, I wish I’d taken more time, appreciated how I looked in my off-the-shoulder gown, spent more time on the dance floor - however awkwardly my date “danced” - instead of sitting off to the side, talking to my friends.  

But it’s probably a good thing they don’t know, at 18, that the opportunities to wear fancy clothes and pin buttoneers on lapels are few and far between, particularly as we get older.  Because we’d never get them to graduate high school at all.

So I’m just a little sad today.  I wish there was a prom for parents.  Or a Homecoming dance.  Or just some kind of dance.

We could use a little glamour in our lives.   

Well, here we are at the end of yet another uneventful week…I mean, it’s not as if we’re on the verge of economic collapse, the election itself is in doubt (if one candidate is to be believed)…Oh, wait.  Yes, it is.

I am usually loathe to talk about my political beliefs here.  I know it can get so contentious, and I’m hardly an unemotional person.  I get very, very passionate.  So I try to keep things light and merry, most of the time. 

This post, really, isn’t about what I believe.  (Although for the record I think Barack Obama is our only hope.  He alone has acted rational and presidential this week.  I’m sorry, I can’t help but believe McCain is the one, the only one, who inserted partisan politics in the bail out negotiations.  From what I have read, things were moving along without rancor until he showed up and scuttled them.  And now, more than ever, we need a debate.  Saying now is not the time for one of only three non-partisan official opportunities to see and hear both candidates, side by side, is ludicrous.  We need that now, more than ever.  And neither candidate needs to be in Washington because neither candidate is the Treasury secretary, chairman of the Fed, nor even on the finance committee involved in negotiations.  Their votes are needed, true.  They can do that.  And also debate.  Also, watching Sarah Palin being interviewed by Katie Couric made me physically ill at the thought that this person might be president some day.)

Anyway.

These are my beliefs.  But here’s the thing - they shouldn’t be yours, just because someone like me spouts off at the mouth. 

I came to my beliefs on my own.  And that’s what I want to urge everyone to do, regardless of political party.  Watch, read, listen - to the candidates themselves.  Not the pundits.  Not the blogs.  Not cable networks that try to cloak opinion as “news” - and yes, I’m talking about Fox “News” Channel. 

There is so much spin, so much misinformation.  I get emails daily from people who should know better, who try to tell me things like Barack Obama eats little children.  People pass this stuff along as truth.  They don’t bother to check it out; they just swallow what they’re fed, without question.  And pass it along as gospel truth.

Folks, most of the crap we’re force fed, on a daily basis, is just that.  Crap.  The Internet, and email, has really made it easy for people to pass this on.  And people, I think, want to believe what they want to believe.  If crap shows up in their inbox, or on TV, and it happens to reflect what they want to believe is true, then - they believe it.

This is what concerns me, as we enter the home stretch of this election season.  This is what I urge:

Check it out.  Check everything out.  Watch with your own eyes, listen with your own ears - and don’t believe the spin from the pundits.  The Internet may have given rise to a lot of crap, but it also is extraordinarly helpful for sorting out the truth.

If you missed the Palin/Couric interview, don’t go over to Fox and hear what they had to say about it.  Go to YouTube and watch it - all of it, not a mix of it - yourself.  And make up your own mind.

If you get an email that says Barack Obama eats babies, go over to a wonderful site called FactCheck.org.   This is a completely non-partisan site dedicated to telling the truth about both candidates.  They address all the crap, and sort it out, and give you the facts.  Just the facts.

Snopes.com is also an excellent resource.

So - please.  Just open your eyes, your mind.  Make your own decision.  Ignore the crap and the hype.  And -

Vote.  Of course, for heaven’s sake, get out and vote. 

I’m Melanie Lynne Hauser, and I approved this message.

I have a question for you all.  Am I a messy slob, or a creative genius?

Let me explain.

My house is currently quite a mess - for me, anyway.  I manage to do a little bit of housework, every now and then, but it’s never all at the same time.  So that currently, my shower is sparkling clean but my kitchen floor is not.  That sort of thing.

This messy period happens to coincide with a very fruitful period, writing-wise.  I’m very busy and happy and working hard.  And I’ve come to realize that when I’m my most creative, my house is generally at its most disordered.  When I’m not really doing much, writing-wise, my house is dependably neat and tidy.

I believe that when I am my most creative, my mind is a very tangled nest - and obviously, so is my house.

When I’m not writing a lot, my mind feels very orderly.  Same with my house.

But I suspect - because I know myself so well - that I might be using the writing as an excuse to be a slob.

So.  The question is - am I using my writing as an excuse not to clean the house?

Or am I truly a creative genius who can’t be bothered with such things as clean toilet bowls?  Is a creative mind and a tidy house mutually exclusive?

Discuss.

* * * *

I get a kick out of seeing how people make their way to my website (I use Opentracker for these stats).   And today I found my book, JUMBLE PIE, listed on a website I thought was cool enough to share.  Click on over to Northern Cheapskate (isn’t that a great name for a website?) and find lots of cool, free stuff! 

Well, I tell you.  This was just about the most satisfying last weekend of summer ever.  

This past Saturday, our high school football team (ranked 14th in the state) remained undefeated, our marching band placed first in a tournament (and also won Best Percussion, of which younger son is a leading part), and the Cubs CLINCHED THE NATIONAL LEAGUE CENTRAL!!!!!

It was great.  We actually sat in the parking lot at the band competition, listening to the end of the game.  So did everybody else.  (Don’t worry; we’d never miss watching our son march just to hear the Cubs CLINCH THE DIVISION!  At least, I’d like to think we wouldn’t; thankfully, the Cubs clinched about half an hour before our band performed.)  

Now, I guess I’ll try to explain what the Cubs mean to people here, and to me.  The truth is, I’m a neophyte.  I did not grow up in Chicago.  I grew up in Indianapolis, which doesn’t have major league baseball.  Basketball and then, when the Colts came to town, football are the passions.  But even so, I cannot equate the fandom there with the fandom up here in Chicago.  Not that I don’t think Indy fans are good fans for their sports teams - I do.

But there’s just no comparison.  The city, the teams aren’t old enough - and there’s never been as much suffering involved.  And that’s why I’m a neophyte, a poseur, to most Cubs fans.  Because my entire family, for generations, has not lived and died suffering with these Cubs.  That’s what you get up here. 

Need proof?  On Saturday, a 104-year-old Cubs fan threw the first pitch.  He’s just about the last person still left who was alive the last time the Cubs won a World Series.  That’s what I mean; that’s the kind of fan this team is playing for.  You don’t get that everywhere; you don’t get that anywhere.  But here.   

Since I’m a fan who has witnessed only one gut-wrenching collapse (the infamous 2003 Bartman collapse), I’ve got nothing on those fans who have witnessed them all.  (And for a comprehensive list, click here.  Get yourself a cup of coffee - it’s long.)

I’m not sure exactly when I realized I was hooked on the Cubs.  If you live in the city proper, there’s a natural geographic distinction between the Cubs and the White Sox - if you’re a Southsider, you root for the Sox; if you live in the Loop and environs north, the Cubs.  Out in the suburbs it gets a bit hazier.  But truth be told, Cubs fans outnumber Sox fans, as evidenced in a purely scientific observation: Yesterday when I was at Party City,  I observed that the Cubs/Sox party decorations endcap was totally out of Cubs stuff, while there were tons of Sox decorations left. 

Anyway, when we moved here 13 years ago, I didn’t understand what all the fuss was about.  Baseball.  Big deal.  I knew it only as a very boring sport to watch.  The season was endless, the games more so.  I’d never heard of any of the players.

But I like to listen to talk radio during the day.  And I always tuned into WGN radio.  And WGN is - has always been - the broadcast home of the Cubs. 

At first, I’d get annoyed when baseball season started and my favorite programs were preempted for the games.  How boring, I thought.  What a pain.

Then, though, somehow - I don’t know when - I started to get interested.  I started to get a kick out of the announcers, Pat Hughes and Ron Santo; I learned all about the game of baseball, and I learned to love all the things I hadn’t.  The long season really gives you time to know the players in a way that you don’t in other professional sports.  You see them in the dugout between innings relaxing, and they look like regular guys.  Because of the rhythm of the game, the players actually cultivate relationships with the fans at the ballpark, too. 

The season is so long, with so many ups and downs, slumps and streaks - you really do get a sense that you’re suffering and celebrating along with the players, that you’re in it together.  And of course, here in Chicago - that means you’re going to suffer together a whole lot more than you celebrate, and I think that only strengthens the relationship.

Anyway, I somehow became more than a casual fan.  Especially last year.  I was in a bit of a funk last year, to tell the truth.  Majorly depressed (in retrospect, I should have seen a doctor about getting on some meds) about my books not being successful, my older son going to college; I really did not know why I was here, for what purpose.  I didn’t see that I’d ever find that out, because everything I’d thought that I was - a mother, an author - didn’t seem to pertain any longer.  And I couldn’t see what would ever take their place.

So I was kind of depressed. 

But you know what helped?  The Cubs.

Right when I was most depressed - last September - the Cubs were in a Pennant race, heading to the post season.  And I grew to depend on those games as the only bright spot in my day.  Nothing in my life mattered, anymore - except those games.  And for three hours or so every day, I’d be in front of the TV - or many times, power walking in the evening, with my radio headphones tuned to the game - and I’d forget about myself, all the things I thought I’d lost, all the sadness.  I’d be living and dying with the Cubs instead, and that was better because I wasn’t alone, I was part of the entire city of Chicago, we were all laughing and crying, depending on the outcome - and I couldn’t wait to see what happened. 

I just really needed to think of something other than myself.  And to feel like I wasn’t alone.  And have a reason to hope.  The Cubs did that for me.

Of course, they were swept in the first round of the playoffs.  Of course.  And the whole city said, again - “Wait ’til next year.”

Now it is next year.  100 years, exactly, since they won a World Series.  It feels different this year - we’ve been leading the division almost the whole season.  That’s not happened before, not in a very, very long time.  We always seem to sneak in by the skin of our teeth.  Not this year. 

I’m better, too - I’ve come out from under my clouds.  So maybe, just maybe…

But like a good Cubs fan, I won’t allow myself to say it out loud.  We have a long way to go.  I’ll just leave you with some fun Cubs sights and sounds, to get you in the mood. 

First off, this is Cubbie the gnome.  He resides in my garden.  He thinks this might be the year.

Now - a grand shot of Wrigley Field, which truly is a religious experience.  Did you know the 104-year-old man who threw out the opening pitch was there at the game, back in 1932, when Babe Ruth had his famous called shot? 

Now, here’s a sweet, sad story about the Cubs victory song.  A Chicago native, songwriter Steve Goodman (who wrote the classic “City of New Orleans”) was a huge Cubs fan.  He wrote one of the saddest songs ever about baseball - “A Dying Cubs Fan’s Last Lament,” and also one of the happiest.  Back in 1984, he wrote, at the request of WGN, a little ditty called ”Go Cubs Go!”  Although in yet another example of the heartbreak of being a Cubs fan, sadly, that year Steve didn’t get to see the Cubs win the division for the first time in decades; he died of leukemia just four days before.  (And of course, they didn’t make it to the Series that year, either, suffering a spectacular collapse at the hands of the Padres.)

WGN kind of dropped the song from its broadcasts.  For about 25 years.  Then last year, the Cubs started playing the song at Wrigley after every home win.  That, coupled with the Cubs having a winning season and getting into the playoffs, gave the song new life.  Now, it’s beloved - possibly more than the 7th inning stretch.  All the fans stay around for the end of the game, no matter how lopsided the score might be, just to sing that song.  And let me tell you, there’s nothing like being at Wrigley, standing shoulder to shoulder with about 40,000 other fans, singing that song at the top of your lungs.  It’s an amazing, unifying experience; Steve’s voice soars confidently out over the field, living on, still, through his beloved Cubs.  It’s enough to bring a tear to the eye of even the most hardened of drunken Cubs fans.  (But most Cubs fans are not hard of heart.  They’re big ol’ softies who cry whenever they talk about Ron Santo or Ernie Banks - or Steve Goodman.)

So here’s a great video of the song.

Last, but not least, Eddie Vedder of Pearl Jam just wrote a new Cubs song that’s getting tons of play up here.  It’s a great song, called “All the Way.”

So there you go.  Why I’m really happy today, and a little Chicago history, to boot.  And -

Go Cubs Go!  All the Way!  We don’t want any dying Cubs fans to have any last laments this year!

Well, what a week!  Hurricanes, massive flooding (at least where I lived), stock market crashing, enormous financial corporations - whose purpose I don’t understand but that men in business suits on my TV seem to think is important - failing, everything going to hell in a hand basket.

On one of the really bad stock market days - I forget just which, there were so many! - I realized I was suffering from Bad News Overload.  I think it’s an occupational habit for someone who spends most of her days on her laptop.  Sure,  I write.  But whenever I need to research something - or just take a mental break - I click on over to MSN and check the headlines.  And on days like that really bad day, that can get you a little down.  A little worried.  A little prone to calling up your husband and saying, “Dear GOD, what will we do?  Will we lose our house?  Will the kids be able to go to college?  Will they ever find employment, or will we all be living in a cardboard box in the middle of some empty McMansion’s yard?”

Never mind that we don’t have the kind of money to invest in the stock market, other than our 401 K, which we don’t need anytime soon.  Or that we bought our house 13 years ago, with a regular, 20% down, no PMI insurance necessary, mortgage.  Or that we don’t have more than $100,000 in any one bank, should they fail.  (Oh, how very, very much less than $100,000 we have!)

But you know, you read the headlines enough - you click on MSN every half hour or so to watch the stock market, which you really have no actual understanding as to what it means or stands for - and you start to panic.  And cry.  And end up in a fetal position, certain the world is about to end.

Well, I say - enough of that!  Fie on information!  Fie on bad news and headlines!  Just turn it all off, tune it all out! 

And do you know what we all could use right now?  Do you?

Wait for it…wait for it…

CUTE PICTURES!!! 

YAY!!!

So enjoy the pictures - then turn the computer off!  Go read a book or watch a funny TV show, or just sit outside and wiggle your toes. 

Sometimes, the less you know, the better you feel.

(If you’re in the Grand Rapids, Minnesota area - which is the birthplace of Judy Garland, and I’m not sure why I know that - you can catch me tonight on Heidi Holtan’s radio show, Real Good Words, on KAXE radio) 

 * * * * *

What’s that saying, about how men don’t buy the cow when they can get the milk for free?

(Isn’t it lovely when women are compared to domesticated farm animals?)

Well, I’m doing something that might be construed as giving away the milk for free.  And I’m not talking dirty, either.

No, for the last couple of months, in addition to my blogging and actual writing (I’ve started three different manuscripts, but now I’ve found the one I want to focus on), and wrangling teenagers and going on vacation and college visits and looking for the perfect part time job - you know, the one where someone will pay me a lot to wear a tiara and stay at home and occasionally hit keys on a computer during hours that are convenient to me (I’m thinking 7:00 - 8:00 PM on days not ending in a “y”), that sort of thing - I’ve been doing a little marketing experiment.

I’ve been making available, free of charge, an eBook of the novel I wrote prior to the Super Mom novels; the novel that my agent signed me for.  It was - is - a good novel.  It came close to selling, and it was still on submission when I got the 2-book deal for Super Mom.  So we pulled it from submission - which is the standard operating procedure - and hoped (perhaps I even assumed) it would sell after the Super Mom books set the publishing world on fire.

Well.

The Super Mom books did not set the publishing world on fire.  Not at all.  I suppose enough time has passed now that I can talk about that - that my first published book did not do that well, and because of that there was very little incentive for my publisher to do much to make sure the 2nd book did (not to mention my editor left after the first book was out), so it didn’t do well, either.  I’m not exactly a publishing success story.  Yet.

As authors, we’re cautioned not to talk about this.  Everyone knows that it’s a hard road to publication and everyone’s sympathetic to the author who hasn’t yet found an agent, a publisher; that author is encouraged and cheered and given all sorts of “You go, girl!”s. 

Most new authors, most people not in the business already - and that would include me, back in the day when I was all dewy-eyed at seeing my book in stores - assume that once published, you’re in.  You’re golden.  You’ll be publishing books as long as you want.

It’s not quite that way anymore.  Maybe it was once - I don’t know.  But it’s not now.  So when a published book is, um, let’s call it a “disappointment,” in polite publishing terms, an author is going to find it a little difficult to get another contract.  It’s usually not because she’s not writing more books.  I am!!  I am!!! (I mean, uh - she is.  She is.)

It’s just that today publishing is tough, not enough people are reading, the number of places to buy books is dwindling, the places that talk about books - magazines, book sections in paper - are disappearing.  And more books than ever are being thrown out there, and I have no idea why this has been the reaction to the problems facing publishing.  But that’s been the model.  So lots and lots of books don’t do very well. 

And lots and lots of authors don’t get that next contract, and now must face a lifetime of “Whatever happened to you?  Couldn’t you think of another book?” 

Personally, I believe this is what causes many authors to drink.

Anyway.  Because the future of any author depends, in large part, on at least the appearance of success - even though any person in the industry is able to call up the hard numbers on any book published, and know the truth - we’re taught not to write about all this on our personal blogs.

Oops.

Well, I figure enough time has passed to come clean.  Plus, it’s not like I’m the only author I know having a hard time getting a new contract.  I know authors whose books sold more copies than mine who are facing the same problem.  As I said, times are tough out there - for everybody. 

And believe it or not, I do not think publishing’s problems are linked to the current economy.  They’re tied to an outdated way of operating, of not understanding the competition out there for people’s time, the reluctance or inability to reach potential readers in new ways instead of depending upon a model invented a century ago.  They’re tied to the always ephemeral, frustrating combination of art and business.

So.  What’s an author who desperately wants a career, writes pretty damn well (if all her reviews are to be believed), writes pretty damn prolifically (you should see all the completed manuscripts on my laptop!), to do?

She stops being depressed, stops crying in her Cheerios, and takes matters into her own hands.  She figures that if the traditional path to success doesn’t seem to be working, it’s time to forge a new one.

She gives away an eBook, and not content to just do that, she tweaks it, gives it a cute new cover, spends a little $ on some Google AdWords, and suddenly she’s found that more people have read this book than her last traditionally published one.  She realizes she has something valuable - a huge email list of people who have read, and generally liked, her work and who ask when her next one is coming out.  (She won’t ever give away this list, trust me.  But it’s nice to have - and it’s nicer to let publishers know she has, as this is a big built in audience for her next book.)

And she and her amazing agent, who employs a publicist for her authors, work with that publicist to put together a press release, and hopefully, people will take notice.

Some have.  There was a nice article on MediaBistro the other day about me.  And I have an interview with an NPR-affiliate today.  I’m also talking with someone - someone big - about sponsorship of the eBook, which would allow me to advertise it more and reach even more people - again, something I would hope would be attractive to publishers.

My goal is, and will always be, to have a career as a published novelist.  It’s what I love, it’s what I do best; I think it’s the only thing I’m good at doing, actually.  Besides eating, of course.  And buying shoes. 

But publishing is going through a rocky period, the Internet is where people are, and if I’ve figured out a way to reach people where they’re actually reading - and in my case, it’s apparently while at work, which makes me feel a little guilty, but oh, well! - then I’m going to, uh, milk that cow.  (To bring this epic blog post around full circle, thankfully!) 

I’m going to keep writing, and hope that it’s both for traditional publication (because I love books and don’t think they’ll ever go away completely) and for the Internet and those who live and read there.  I believe both models are vital, and more important, I believe they’re vital to the success of each other.  And of authors.  And of - me.

So that’s why I’m giving it away. 

Thus endeth the lesson on publishing, eBooks, and cows. 

(How was your weekend?  As soggy as ours?  It started with a very wet traipse around Indiana University with younger son, as we went on our final - I hope! - college visit.  The rain did not dampen his enthusiasm for the school, though.  Then we drove home, anticipating a rainy weekend, but figuring it would be nice to just snuggle inside and listen to rain on the roof.  We did not figure that it would be the rainiest one day in Chicago, ever; we did not figure it would turn into the kind of downpour where you’re standing over your sump pump, chanting ‘Oh Jesus, Oh Jesus, Oh Jesus, don’t stop!”; the kind of deluge where you’re outside helping your neighbors try to divert the stream that has formed in their yard; the kind of Biblical event where you’re driving - sort of; more like motorboating - around flooded streets, hitting every hardware store within a five mile radius only to be told, wearily but sympathetically, that they’ve been out of stretch hoses and sump pumps since approximately two seconds after they opened. 

Anyway.  That was our weekend.  How was yours?)

* * * *

Today I have a little etiquette question. 

You know how there are people in your life you don’t like?

Well, in the past - the past before Twitter, Facebook, Linked In, My Space, and blogs - you could pretty much safely ignore these people.  Once you removed someone from your life, or moved on from whatever horrible past you shared, you could be reasonably assured that your paths wouldn’t cross again.  Should these annoying (at best) or painful (at worst) reminders of your past ever show up again, it was usually in the form of a letter or phone call.  Letters can be torn up.  Phone calls can go unanswered, or unreturned, or you could simply hang up on the caller, if necessary.  And really, these take some effort, and most of the annoying people in the world don’t have that kind of stamina.

But now there are these things called social networks.  The Internet.  All those places I mentioned above - MySpace, Facebook, Linked In, Twitter.  And suddenly, everyone can find everyone else, even when they’re not looking; it’s amazing how small a neighborhood the Internet really is.

And now, people who you really can’t stand show up, wanting to friend you or link you or follow you.  And it’s pissing me off.

Now, I’m a fairly easy going person (hey - stop laughing!).  But once I’m pissed off, I don’t let it go.  It may take a lot to cross me but once crossed, I don’t forgive and forget.  So I’m not thrilled to receive happy little ‘Hey, remember me?  It’s been a long time” messages from people who are most definitely On My List. 

Oh, I remember you.  I remember you, all right.  I have probably stayed awake at night imagining all sorts of horrible ailments befalling you, like a mysterious condition that causes all your teeth to fall out right in the middle of an important business meeting, or uncontrollable, leaking flatulance attacks in public. 

But here’s the thing.  I can’t really say that on Facebook.  Or Twitter.  Or My Space.  I can ignore your emails, but I can’t ignore those damned little - very public - cyber notes.  When you say, on a social networking site, “Hey, it’s been a long time - remember me?”  I can’t very well reply “Yes.  It’s not easy to forget someone whose messy, yet satisfying, death I once actively plotted.”

(I know, I know, I’m a petty person sometimes.  SOMETIMES.)

So.  What does a petty person prone to holding on to massive grudges do, in a situation like this?  Ignore it?  Reply to it?  Be a big girl and suck it up, and write something inane back (”Hi!  Can’t believe it’s been so long!  Did you ever clear up that embarrassing fungal infection?”).

Help me, Ann Landers.  For the temptation to indulge in a little cyber asshole ripping is great.