Teaching — The Icing on the Cake

Another class in Writing, Publishing, & Promoting Your Nonfiction Book ended last night. It was a six-week, 12-hour, non-credit course sponsored by the St. Louis Community College and held in a high school classroom. The class almost didn’t come together because enrollment in continuing ed classes across the community college system was way down. As it turned out, more people showed up on the first night than were originally signed up; and, as is also sadly typical, a few people dropped out. I never know why that happens; and, though it probably has much more to do with the students’ time constraints than the caliber of my teaching, one can never be sure about why they leave.

Those who remained were enthusiastic and involved. They shared their ideas and suggestions with each other, asked many questions of the speakers, took copious notes, and began to write their books. At the last class, they brought food, and we had a great “graduation party.” They were gracious and grateful for what they had learned. As always, that last class was bittersweet. As I said my goodbyes and packed up my materials and books, I was already feeling the familiar sense of loss. While it was festive and lively, and people seemed quite relaxed, I dread these endings.

Some of these students will simply disappear from life. Many of their books may never be written. A few, of course, will stay in touch, perhaps ask for my help, and take the process to its desired conclusion — a completed, published book. But if I go back over my class rosters for all the years I’ve been teaching this class, I will find those success stories to be rare.

People take this class for many reasons. Depending on their previous experience with non-credit courses, they are often surprised that I expect them not only to learn a process but also to actually begin to write their books. For some, that is just what they hoped for; for others, it’s far too big a commitment. What always surprises me is when people take the class and then take it again, determined this time to produce a book.

So, another class ends. I pack away the notebook and re-shelve the books I brought as samples of each week’s topics. And for several Wednesday nights, I will feel vaguely out of sync. Something is missing, I will think. And then I will remember what it is and hope my class will be offered in the summer or next fall.

Teaching fulfills me as nothing else does. How fortunate I am to be able to do it, even if only six weeks at a time.

So Much to Do, So Little Time

I’m convinced I have attention deficit disorder. It’s Wednesday morning. I’ve just bolted down a cup of coffee; set up my office in bed; updated my endless list of things to do; checked the headlines in The Huffington Post, which reminded me to read a little more of The Huffington Post’s Complete Guide To Blogging; stopped reading to check my e-mail; noticed that one e-mail included an article on 50 ways to promote your book, which I needed to forward to my writing class; and finally realized I had not finished anything except the coffee. At this point, I checked the time and jumped out of bed because my workout partner was waiting for me.

What’s wrong with this picture?

If I look back I may find I have hit upon this topic before because I frequently feel overwhelmed by the “must-do” tasks on my list. Here’s today’s list:

• Pick up prescription; fill new prescription.
• Grocery shop (at the very least get milk, half & half, and something for the party tonight).
• Pick up slacks at the dressmaker.
• Finish bookmarks, have them printed, laminated, and cut (in time, for tonight’s class)
• Work on D_____’s book.
• Call accountant about income tax return.
• Fill out papers for lawsuit.
• Confirm haircut appointment or Thursday.
• Bank (deposit).
• Fill out personal property tax form.
• Research publishers for F_____.
• Read K_____’s first chapter.
• Check to see if Amazon fixed my list of published books.
• Print out workbook for “Your Money or Your Life” class.
• Do first assignment.
• Answer e-mails; clean out e-mail in-box.
• Record How to Write a Nonfiction Book webinar.

OK, these things don’t all have to be done today, but they do have to be done sometime in the near future. And it feels impossible. Thus, I flit from one task to another and stop in the middle to blog about it and take a photo of the office on my bed. When I mentioned this to my daughter, she observed that I am the only one she knows who can accomplish nothing and write a blog about accomplishing nothing (illustrated, no less).

This whole subject deserves further consideration. More to come … the next time I’m feeling overwhelmed.

Biz Basics for Writers

I just found some notes from a presentation I did a while ago for a group of aspiring writers. I shared the stage with my accountant, Jonathan Becker, CPA. The notes, taken in my particular brand of shorthand, are filled with great advice for owners of “creative” small businesses. That definitely includes freelance writers. The suggestions are still relevant, so I’m going to pass them along without embellishment.

• Bill by the hour. Bill for every single hour you put into your business.
• If a client isn’t willing to pay you for what you do, you probably don’t want that client anyway.
• When you raise your rates, don’t grandfather your old clients. If you do, you will begin the resent them.
• There’s a rule in accounting that every three years you should dump the bottom 20 percent of your client list.
• When you figure your hourly rate make it three times your expected or hoped-for income. Add to that 40 percent for what it costs to run the business. Divide that figure by 2,080 hours (working hours in a year), and that is what your hourly rate should be.
• Set up your books. Get help from your accountant if you need it.
• Creative people need to know how to reconcile a checkbook.
• Creative people should have a feel for what’s going on inside your business.
• If you’ve been business for two or three years and are going nowhere, it may be time to look for a job.

How to set up your business entity:

• Sole proprietor (on your own and doing business)
• LLC (Limited Liability Corporation limits your personal and family exposure) Set up your LLC with an attorney, and register with the Missouri Dept. of Revenue.
• Add umbrella protection to your homeowner’s policy.

Income tax:

• Fifty percent of incomes goes to taxes.
  
• Deduct anything that pertains to your business: Internet access, website, magazine subscriptions, supplies, equipment, consultants, accountants, attorneys, and so on.
• Any items deducted reduce taxes by 50 percent.
  
• Work with your accountant on what to deduct.
  
• The IRS does very little auditing at the small business level.

Marketing:

• Get on TV or radio to talk about what you know.
• Follow up on every lead.
• Return phone calls that day.
• Respond to e-mails.
• Identify your market. Network. Join groups.

Basic? Yes? Important to your financial success? Also yes.

Web Marketing 101: Online Newsletters

There are almost as many ways to stay connected to the cyber-world as there are people in it. OK, I’m exaggerating. But, in addition to those I’ve tried, there are certainly an equal number or more I have never even thought about. Or, if I have thought about them, I don’t know how to create them. Podcasts and PowerPoint presentations that actually show up on my website are two perfect examples. One thing I do know: if I want to market my website, I need a newsletter.

Everybody has an online newsletter, I’ve been told many, many times by many, many people. Not knowing how to create one is no excuse. Most of them are plain vanilla, no bells and whistles, text only. Of course, some of the simplest in form are also the most complex in content. And that’s what worried me. Where was I going to get all those facts and references and really great tips that seem to be the heart and soul of online newsletters? I could worry about how it should look after I figured out what it should say.

I went in search of examples of good online newsletters.

Scribe & Quill, a newsletter for writers, has changed a lot in recent years. It used to come monthly in two sections, with each section long and crammed full of material. For nine years, it has been primarily written, edited, and published by one person — a dynamo named Bev Walton Porter.

WebsiteMarketingPlan's newsletter, put out by my personal web guru, Bobette Kyle, is for people who are really serious about marketing their sites. It is full of tips, links, offers, plans, and articles. In short, it is a graduate course in website promotion.

The BuzzFactor is really for musicians, but it demonstrates how multifaceted Bob Baker is. He has a great website, blogs, numerous books and e-books, ezines, and a terrific presence on Amazon. At his Self-Publishing Book newsletter, Bob shares his abundant knowledge of the creative process and marketing with writers.

Hello, my name is e-zine is published by a one-man whirlwind — Scott Ginsberg — who has more energy than a room full of two year olds and more marketing ideas than a Madison Avenue ad agency. Scott writes in list form: 72 Ways to do this … 6 Ways to do that … 13 Types of … 10 Strategies to … and on and on. Personally, I think he’s a genius.

The BuildBookBuzz newsletter is fresh, informative, and practical. I stumbled on it when I read an article on one of the online sites, followed the link to Sandra Beckwith, e-mailed her and received a lovely reply, became an instant fan, and subscribed to her newsletter. Sometimes, you just meet someone smart and special when you let your fingers do the walking.

Author Marketing Experts, as it name suggests, is aimed at intrepid writers of books. Penny Sansevieri is one, as well as a speaker, blogger, article writer, and tweeter. Her newsletter is long, filled with information and advice, including details on how to target particular publications, and unadorned with graphics (at least, the version I receive). Text and nothing but text, but that text is always worth reading.

I read all these newsletters and others; I studied them; I admired them (or they wouldn’t be mentioned); and I came up with something completely different. It has a plain text version, but, really, it’s intended to mirror my website. Sometimes, it actually does that. I must admit that getting News & Views from Bobbi Linkemer to look the way I envisioned it was harder than learning how to podcast, or so it seemed.

Then, of course, there was the matter of what to write about. There, too, I took an offbeat approach. If News & Views looks intriguing and informative, and you think you might like to receive it once a month, hit this link and subscribe. In the meantime, I’ll start working on the next one.

Small Claims Court Revisited

I’m going to eat some words here. In a blog titled “It’s not fair!” I said: Do not — I repeat — do not ever try to sue a client in small claims court. In my experience, it cannot be done. I have tried three times, and, as I sit here popping Excedrin, I am about to give up.

I’ll admit I was pretty frustrated when I wrote that. I had already filed the same claim twice; plunked down my money twice to have to sheriff track down my elusive client; and gone to court to explain why I hadn’t prosecuted the defendant, who had never been served because he couldn’t be found. The sheriff’s office was getting used to my visits and phone calls, to the point that they actually called me to find out what the problem was (that’s a first, I’m told), and then went out to track him down.

The third time’s a charm, they say. They are right. I filed suit again, paid the sheriff again, and got on the docket again. Then, wonder of wonders, I began receiving e-mails from my missing client suggesting a settlement of 25 percent of what he owed me. Of course, he didn't actually have that amount of money, but he would borrow it. Yeah, right. I suspected that this time the sheriff had actually served the subpoena.

I went to court today, but my client did not. The courtroom was packed; and, if I had stayed around a bit longer, I could have written a book instead of a blog post. The judge was a comedian who should have his own TV show. He spent 45 minutes trying to keep a straight face hearing a case having to do with cement, planter boxes, and a dissatisfied customer who waited 13 months to complain about the contractor. Then, he devoted five minutes to cracking jokes with me before he awarded me the full amount possible in small claims court.

“That’s great,” I said. “Now what do I do?”

“Well, that’s the problem,” he replied. “We’re not allowed to tell you that.” The assembled crowd cracked up. I collected my evidence and went to report to the ladies at the filing window that I had won my case by default. I guess very few people ever tell them how it all turned out. They were delighted and, apparently, not at all restricted from telling me what to do next and how to do it.

So, off I went, armed with new forms to fill out and renewed determination to tackle the next step of our insane legal process. Updates to come.

Another Class; Another Magic Moment

I’ve been teaching a class in how to write, publish and promote your nonfiction book for several years. I have taught it to individuals and groups, for the University of Missouri-St. Louis, the Lindbergh School District’s Adult Education Program, and the St. Louis Community College. Every class is unique, of course. The students are adults of all ages and backgrounds. They have lived lives before they walked into what could be “just another noncredit course.” It might be fun, or it might be a complete waste of time. They don’t know, but I think I do. By the end of the first two hours, I hope I have convinced them that this is going to be a different kind of class, not what they expected, and perhaps even a life-changing event.

I hope that doesn’t sounds arrogant. I say it because I have experienced the incredible dynamics and personal transformations that take place in these classes, year after year. It is difficult to describe the synergy that occurs within a group of strangers who mesh in some inexplicable way. Someone has a question; two people offer answers. One person is stumped on which direction to take; another responds with compassion and insight. And I stand at the front of this high school classroom, transfixed, yet again.

My new class met last night — the class I had wondered whether to teach at all because of the low enrollment. Ultimately, I decided to “trust the process” (see sweatshirt on my last blog) and am so grateful for that decision. The process worked (it always does). Somehow, we ended up with 10 amazing people. I do not use the word “amazing” lightly. It is a wonderful group of individuals who are writing about subjects as diverse and substantive as I could ever hope for.

Some had their sentences nailed: “My book is about _________________.” Others were not so sure, torn between two good ideas and trying to get in touch with their real passion for one of them. This is the exciting part — when everyone is turned on by the possibilities. It is my job to keep them turned on and moving forward toward their completed books. I have no illusions that anyone will write a book in six weeks, unless he or she works on it every waking hour, but I do know they can learn what it takes and get a good start on actually doing it.

I emerge from each of these classes greatly enriched by the people I’ve met and the things I've learned from them. This semester promises to be one of the best ever!

To Teach or Not To Teach

My class at the community college used to be filled to overflowing. The maximum was 15 students, and there was usually a waiting list. The Economy (with a capital E) has changed all that. Belt tightening is no longer just a good idea; it’s a reality. Enrollment is down on all three campuses, but whether to teach or not to teach is completely up to me. Last semester, I decided not to.

Even though we had enough students for the college to break even financially, I reasoned that if anyone dropped out, and people always do, the group would be too small to be effective. The result was that I missed teaching, and the students I never met missed out on what could have been a great experience. This semester, the same choice has presented itself: teach or cancel the class.

This time, I am going to teach.

What is the worst thing that could happen? Well, the class could turn into the world’s smallest writing group. Actually, it couldn’t be any smaller than the time we started with six people, instantly dropped to four, and ended up with two. Those two showed up every week of a frigid winter semester, and one of them turned out to be a close friend.

It could be group made up of introverts in which no one talks. Of course, in all my years of teaching, that has never happened. While it’s true that more than one true introvert in a tiny group can put a lot of pressure on the others to carry the ball, how likely is a room full of people who don’t participate? Not very.

I guess I could go on with all the “worst things,” but that seems a pointless exercise. A better approach would be to wear my favorite sweatshirt on the first night of class and let the Fates take care of the rest.