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An additional benefit of self-publishing seems to be the initiation of night attacks.
I used to sleep the sleep of innocence, waking up refreshed in the morning, generally right before the wife would come in with OJ and the paper. Six or seven hours and I’d be fully rested and ready for the new day.
And then I started this self-publication effort for Early ReTyrement. Last year, I went through a grueling two months with a totally inept editor, one who said it was “impossible” to get the section dividers to come close to lining up with the page numbers. And who left editing and formatting macro commands scattered about the manuscript (for every one you find, how many have you missed?). In the end, I spent two months with evening scans of her shabby proofs, laid out heavy money and ended up with unusable files, all of which were rejected by Kindle and CreateSpace.
We tried to hit the Christmas season with a new group (DBS) who were professional and gave it to me on time and target. The problem was, our trip to London was scheduled for the last week before Christmas and I still have to proof the hard copy. I threw money into delivery to get it forwarded to me on time. The night before we flew out, I had it, I reviewed it, it was good. And then when I clicked the “approve” button, Createspace replied that it would take five to seven days to get it into circulation. This put it on or about Christmas, and I’d be nowhere near a computer where I could post up its availability, nor could anyone who ordered it even hope to get it as a present. Another fiasco.
Now I’ve got the UCF Book Festival coming up, I’m having to figure out the state taxes I owe, and a new disaster (can’t mention what it is until it’s been resolved) has risen.
So now I’m blinking awake at 5am (or earlier), bathed in cold sweat, worrying about this or that. How can one get back to sleep after thinking about all the pitfalls, the dangers, the failures I face or have suffered?
Was talking to my business owner friend who has had his share of disasters. Mentioned the pre-dawn panic attacks and the sweats.
“Welcome to my world,” he smiled (abet grimly).
I thought this was supposed to be fun…
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Article ID: 301
Revised 5 Times
Created Sunday, 18 March 2012 08:56
Modified Sunday, 18 March 2012 09:24
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