Working Through It

Thanks for the kudos, blogosphere friends. This book project certainly has been a community and industry effort. With so many people invested in its success, launching Alaska On the Go: Exploring the 49th State With Children should be easy. Right?

After the glow wore off a bit, and after AK Dad and I had more than a few glasses of wine to celebrate, paperwork started to flow into my inbox with the speed of an Alaska snowstorm. Questions, mostly, about me, about the book, about people I know who might talk about the book, and places that might sell the book; all succinctly disseminated in a collection of University of Alaska Press formatting that I, of course, have already screwed up in my attempt to complete.

One reason I chose to approach UA Press is their desire to engage authors in the publishing process every step of the way, from initial marketing to some level of publicity and selling those books.

Hours and hours later, I'm navigating the process of my life as it stands to be for the next month. As I did while I was actually writing the manuscript, I've carefully (mostly) scripted my days.

Typically, I write in one-hour blocks, two if I've got a particularly hot deadline. But I write, every single day. I feel guilty if I don't, which may or may not be normal...

Also questionable is the fact I set my alarm to chime for a break, then I get up from my desk and do stuff. What stuff?

Laundry.  

Cooking (that's a damn fine pork shoulder in the oven, right there).

Running with dogs.

I go about the business of living for 30 minutes or so, then set the alarm again and head back to the inner world of wordsmithing.

Repeat.

Occupation: Author.

My thumbs are no longer twiddling.

They are shaking.

A message appeared in my inbox on Tuesday afternoon. The subject line read, "Good news from the University of Alaska Press!"

(I will stop right here and thank the acquisitions editor of UA Press, himself a writer and one who understands the ecstacy/agony of bad news delivered via email).

They want my book.

I wrote a book.

I am an author.

Alaska On the Go: Exploring the 49th State With Children is now a reality, and shall be released in the spring of 2014, just in time for summer tourism season and a fantastic book tour around Alaska and the Pacific Northwest.

I spent more than a few moments last night thinking about the hundreds of people who have supported this project. Tour operators, airlines, railroads, ferries, hotels and cabins, and so, so many other parents - you got us here. We can't wait to see what you think.

Which now has me shaking for a whole different reason.

Thumbs, Twiddling

Lots of things happen when you send a book to the publisher.

The tax receipts get organized.

The house suddenly gets a lot cleaner.

The family dresses up like vegetables and animals and goes running.

The writer's eyes uncross.

However, other, less productive things, tend to happen as well. Anxious moments in front of the computer, double-checking the "sent mail" tab to make sure the manuscript did, in fact, reach its destination. Bordering on obsession, this multiple-times-a-day checking is wearing out my keyboard, and my husband's nerves. Sorry, dear.

There's also a lot of thumb-twiddling. Oh, I have a lot of projects awaiting my attention, some really great ones. But with the Timeline to Publish tacked to the wall directly above my desk, it's hard to ignore the fact that a 95, 000-word book is at this moment being copied and sent to the members of Publishing House's advisory board. Holy crap.

The good news is that I wrote a book. A whole book. I met a great acquisitions editor, who really likes this project and how I framed the combination of ancedotal experience and honest how-to instructions about bringing kids to Alaska.

I heard yesterday at a tourism forecast luncheon that a million people are expected to visit Alaska via cruise ship this summer. Just think how many of them might buy a book about family travel for a grandchild's parent, or rethink the wisdom of leaving said children or grandchildren at home for a lack of information about Alaska and kids. Almost blows the mind.

And re-crosses my eyes.

Get 'er done

Learning how to write a book has almost become more important than actually typing the words. 

I've discovered the value of adding "writing" to a large chunk of my smartphone's calendar, every single day. No meetings, no coffee dates, just "writing." 

Writing, of course, means powering through a solid hour of wordsmithing and critical thinking, then taking a break, usually involving wood chopping, dog-running, or baking. Baking is an excellent respite from writing, I have found. Or, at least, a peace offering to the family for which I have forgotten to provide clean laundry. At any rate, the hour on-hour off system seems comfortable enough. 

The edit process is a fascinatinating journey through my own psyche. Am I really up to this? What if I change things around and it's not the same book, anymore? Oh no, that great idea I had at 4 a.m. - I can't remember what it was! 

I'm aware of every word I add or delete, every descriptive sentence I carefully script, where it goes.  I know about every restaurant, every hotel, every attraction, and I can't help but think I owe future readers more than just a listing of places to go and things to do. 

A careful, thoughtful, process. 

Why 95,000 Words Can't Be Wrong

After weeks of anxious nail-biting, gallons of coffee, and late nights, it has been completed. Alaska On the Go: Exploring the 49th State With Children was pushed northward in November.

This poor blog had been woefully neglected since late September, I admit it. But between bringing one child home from an out-of state school to begin life as a young adult managing autism, and sending another off to second grade, and working on various freelance projects, and the manuscript, everything else got shoved aside.

My calendar was blocked off for three or four or more hours a day, and I lived in fleece pants, Adidas slippers, and my favorite Alaska Brewing Company hoodie. But one day, it was done.

I changed my clothes, drove to meet Editor at our favorite coffee shop, made a few logistical adaptations, said a quick prayer for safe travels, and hit "send."

Refusing to consider the parking ticket I had on my car when I left the University of Alaska campus as a bad omen, I turned up my Brandi Carlile CD and sang the entire way home.

A few encouraging emails later from the acquisitions editor, and my manuscript was on its way to external reviewers; parents who travel and a savvy bunch of people indeed. I hate criticism, who doesn't? But darned if these people liked what I said, save for some great ideas and suggestions I should have probably anticipated anyway.

So here I am again, making some changes, adding some things, and crafting a letter to the publishing house's advisory board.

The best part? A sentence from Acquisitions Editor.

"...I'm attaching our boilerplate contract so you can get a sense of the document."

Calling All Kids! Alaska On the Go Needs YOU!

I'm so almost there. Just a few more places, a few more tweaks, a few more long nights, and this thing is on its way to Editor.

In an effort to make this not only an informative exploration of Alaska with kids, but a fun read, I've decided to add one more cool feature - voices from kids, themselves.

Called "KidSpeak," and similar to to the ParentPoints concept provided by willing grownups, KidSpeak will be real-life, honest, and hopefully endearing accounts by kids about their favorite Alaska stuff. Any stuff is acceptable; activities, restaurants, clothes, airplanes, fishing.....my only requirement is that it comes from their precious little hearts and mouths. There is NO age limit; any child who can utter a sound is welcome to contribute (although mom or dad may have to translate for me).

Specifically, I need KidSpeak about the following subjects: 

Favorite activities when it's summer, winter, and in between

Fishing quotes

Wild animal quotes (favorite/non favorite)

Weather

Driving on road trips (strategies/tips from big kids would be great, too)

Favorite restaurants (anywhere in AK)

Cruising (day cruising, and multi-day cruises)

Interested? Send me your kids' quotables, their first names and ages, to: togoak@gmail.com. 
Deadline to contribute is Friday, September 28.

Danke!

EK

Perma-Wrinkles and My Support Staff

Nobody told me writing a huge book would translate into permenant wrinkles upon my forehead and around my eyes. In fact, nobody told me that when I write, I frown and squint and purse my lips as if I were sucking on a straw filled with sour lemonade. It would still be a mystery to me, and quite an acceptable one, in my thinking,  had my husband not taken a sneaky photo while I wasn't looking last weekend.

This past month has been full of words, and with an end of the draft manuscript of Alaska On the Go: Exploring the 49th State With Children in sight (I still can't believe I actually wrote such a volume of information about Alaska), I'm pounding the keys in an effort to ship this book to the prospective publisher by December 1.

Anyway, back to the perma-wrinkles. Our family took a few extra days off over the Labor Day weekend holiday to explore the way-back wilds of McCarthy and Kennecott Mines National Historic Landmark, a long, long way from Anchorage. After eight hours of driving along first the Glenn, then the Richardson, then the ancient Edgerton highway(s), we arrived at a surreal example of how Alaska probably looked when miners and saloon owners held claim to much of the settled landscape. It was fabulous. We hiked, we mountain biked, we ate a lot, then we slept. Surprisingly in the midst of all this recreation and rest I found time to work, especially one rainy, cold day when I kicked my family out the door and spent a few hours with laptop, coffee mug, and an exceptionally personal view from the living room of Kennicott Glacier Lodge.

I was so involved in my feverish desire to finish "just this section" that I failed to notice my husband lurking near the doorway, bike helmet on head and smartphone in hand, repeatedly hitting buttons.

"Did you know you're cute when you're working?" he casually asked, flipping through photos he'd taken, like a talent agent perusing a portfolio. A muffled giggle from behind the door signaled an appearance by our son, 7, who is just beginning to think it weird that his mom and dad actually say things like that to each other. Ick. And Hardly.

Don't even ask to look.