Book Publication and Birth: A Tale of Two Converging Loves

I never meant for it to happen this way.

I couldn’t have planned it if I tried.

Indeed, truth is often stranger than fiction.

Here I am, though, with a new baby and two books being published this month. Yes, two.

How? I don’t quite know, except that life happens.

Tough Love: A Wyoming Childhood, published this month by Pronghorn Press, recounts my experience as an only child growing up among the raw and grisly characters in rural western Wyoming. It began in 2008 as a collection of essays for my Master’s thesis in creative nonfiction writing. I knew from the get-go I would go all the way with it, writing the pieces one at a time, piecing them together with a thread of a theme (what does it mean to be tough?), and eventually pursuing publication, sending out query after query until a “yes” finally came.

The “yes” did come – but, unexpectedly, so did a positive pregnancy test, three days later.

That “yes,” along with the blue “+” sign on the stick, came while I was knee-deep in work on my family’s small business history. Bucky’s: Stories and Recollections from 50 Years in Business, commemorates the grit and determination of a small-town service, repair and retail shop doing whatever it took to survive off of a quiet western main street. I began the project while Tough Love: A Wyoming Childhood grinded its way through the query mill, back before a pregnancy was even on the horizon. The business history was a grand effort in helping my family carve out its well-deserved legacy. It was to be for me a venture in self-publishing, my intention to learn the ropes of the trade to be better informed and equipped as a writer during this tumultuous time in the publishing industry. I planned to publish the “Bucky’s book,” as it affectionately came to be called, in June 2012.

Then the nod came for Tough Love: A Wyoming Childhood.

Then I got pregnant.

In other words, life happened.

And here I am, with a baby who was born the end of July, a book of essays to be published on schedule by a traditional publisher, and a self-published small business history that, due to life circumstances, was postponed for release until September – the month of the business’ annual grand open house.

So we leave next week, traveling from California to Wyoming, where for the better part of the month I will be promoting my work. September will be a crazy month. But I can’t wait.

I go into it with heart racing and eyes bright with excitement. Here are the moments where the hard, dogged work will be worth it. Finally, I will meet the finished products.  Works of art into which I put my whole self. I will get to talk about this craft I love so much. I get to share words, encourage others to share theirs, and talk about the value of preserving life stories and leaving legacies.

This is work that I love. I am packing my bags now.

Please, join me if you can. Click here for a list of events.  Stay tuned for upcoming readings and get-togethers in California. And, if you’re interested in using Tough Love: A Wyoming Childhood as a pick for a book group, ordering copies of either book, or learning more about the crafts of creative nonfiction writing and/or telling your own life story, please get in touch.

Writing, at its very core, is about communication. If I can reach people, if I can inspire and encourage, only then can I smile and say to myself, “Job well done.”

Your Story is Bigger Than You

What if your story, whatever life story you have to tell, is about more than you?

I speak about and advocate for telling our life stories. At a recent workshop, I encouraged attendees to think outside of themselves when they resolve to put a story down – be it their own, their family history, their small business, what have you.

One man, who has been at work on his family history for 30 years, asked why.

Why do I need to think about others, he asked, when my primary motivation to explore my family history is to learn more about who I am?

New York fountain. Copyright 2010 Kate Meadows.

It was a good question, and I wasn’t shocked to hear it.

But I think we so often fail to think outside of ourselves when we pursue our own endeavors. So often, we think, a) no one else will care; or b) this story won’t do anyone else any good, when in reality, the opportunities to speak to others through are stories are simply untapped goldmines waiting to be explored.

This same man, in his tireless pursuit for names, dates and places of long-dead or long-lost family members, found a treasure trove of stories lurking beneath that hard data – stories I don’t think he necessarily bargained for. He wrote letters to people asking for information, and received stories and memories in return. You know what that tells me? Others in the family besides him have an interest in the family legacy.

When I suggested this to him, he nodded, as if giving me the benefit of the doubt. Then, he was quiet for a long time.

A year and a half ago, I set out to piece together a complete small business history. I wrote letters to 250 of the business’ mainstay customers, asking for their stories and memories of how the business had been a part of their lives.

I had no idea who, if anyone, would respond.

For a while, no one responded.

Then, some stories started to trickle in. Followed by more. And more.

In the end, thanks to the submissions I received, the history of the business was, in page numbers, twice as large as I had bargained for.

Know what that means?

People besides myself and my family became invested in the larger story. People had something to say; they wanted their hand in it. Now, still pre-publication, the book has sold almost 150 copies.

That tells me this small business history is about more than just the business itself. It comprises threads of numerous people’s lives, people who care about their part in the larger story.

Consider your own story. Who is a part of it? Would they care to know it? How can you reach out to others with your own message?