Cold or Allergies? Dulcinea Might Have Been Right.

Before dawn on Saturday, my publicist, Dulcinea Hawksworth, called me for an impromptu VampFest meeting. I had woken up congested, which, because I have asthma, food and seaonal allergies, and chronic hives, I attributed to something suspicious in the pizza I had eaten the previous night.

"Sounds like you've got a cold," Dulcinea said.

Forgetting also I have major throat and soft palate itching at a cold's onset, too, I insisted, "No, it's allergies."

I grew more tired as the day lengthened, and I muddled through just half of the work I had reserved for my Saturday. Far too soon, I weakly waved the white flag, showered, and went to bed, confident that an "early to bed" would mean an extra-early rising, which should be plenty of time to complete the tasks I had forsaken.

I awakened nine hours later to a sore throat and general body aches. I chastised my weakness as I fed the cats and made the coffee, and I find myself doing the same psyche-kicking this morning.

As usual, I have a full week planned, but less than a fraction of energy to accomplish it, although I'm cheering inside that my first deadline of the day has been successfully met. Well, it's early.

Today on the list: a church anniversary story to complete and follow-up phone calls for stories regarding a local sound artist, student ambassadors, parent coaching, and concussion treatment.

But first, I will pack up my "Bryony" displays, costume, makeup, and jewelry, then head over to the P. Seth Magosky Museum of Victorian Life in Joliet, where we shot the "Bryony" trailer and music video.

A digression: We are releasing the trailer on Wednesday, hurray!

At the mansion, a photographer from the Morris Herald will be taking a few pictures for an October 11 "Bryony" story. Then it's off to the warehouse, along with Rebekah and my backpack, for cleaning and writing.

Hoping the coffee kicks in soon!

I'm Behind and It's Getting Done Anyway, Go Figure!

"Well, in our country," said Alice, still panting a little, "you'd generally get to somewhere else -- if you ran very fast for a long time, as we've been doing."

"A slow sort of country!" said the Queen. "Now, here, you see, it takes all the running you can do, to keep in the same place. If you want to get somewhere else, you must run at least twice as fast as that!"
(Lewis Carroll, "Through the Looking Glass.")


Ever have days like this?

I'm having a few WEEKS like this. My family has gone from crisis to crisis, and everytime we think we're catching up, well, life tosses another little ball of trouble to play with.

It's only Monday and my "to-do" list is way longer than my "ta-da" list for all of last week. Just a few days ago, someone from Bryony's marketing team expressed real concern I'd have no time to attend events, etc. I assured him I would accomplish what I must accomplish.

This weekend, new challenges arose while others that loomed ferocious last week simply melted away. This morning, the weight of still more are pressing upon me, screaming for attention.

My publicist calls out of the blue, and I answer with a cheery, convoluted greeting I've already forgotten. No matter. She laughed and asked, "Do you invent these just for me?"

"No," I told her honestly, "They're to keep me sane."

Today, for all its stressors, has been a day of pleasant surprises.

For instance, erlier this month, I stepped out in faith and accepted an acquaintance's offer to shoulder a big project for me. I didn't understand the task, the time committment to her, and what the job entailed, but to outsource it would be expensive, so I reluctantly agreed, then stalled, figuring she'd forget about it.

She didn't. She called--many times--and insisted she could get it done for me in a timely fashion, so please, please, please do not outsource it. I prayed, then sent the information her way.

While she worked, I fretted. What if she had made empty promises? What if she exaggerated her abilities? After all, I only had her word she could do it. What if she an emergency on her home front prohibited completion? I was, after all, on deadline.

I even shared my fears with her. She just good-naturedly laughed at me and said, "God is in control." In return, I asked for step-by-step timelines and multiple reassurances of her ability to meet the deadline.

Then, this morning, there it was, sitting in my inbox. The most difficult part of the job was done, ready for my approval. It's beautiful and professionally formatted. She is now ready to tackle another project for me, out of the kindness of her heart. Is God not good?

So, with my heaping schedule overflowing, I squeezed an extra interview into my morning to help out a local pastor turned artist about his upcoming event.

I knew about the event months in advance, but the information I needed was not sent until Friday. His event is this Friday, almost too late to get a story sent in time, but I picked up the phone and called him anyway. Boy, am I glad I did.

Conversing with him was real joy. He fought depression after the death of a fellow pastor and found healing in painting. His delight in the process of creating spilled into his words. I knew that feeling from writing Bryony. I was happy I'd called.

A late afternoon appointment just cancelled, opening a door to dig into that stack of work. But first, I met with two lovely women to learn about a very special christening dress with an interesting "Bryony" twist.

Mums the word until the Herald News runs the story first.

How to be Funny in Three Hundred Words

If I find out, I'll let you know.

Last month, my publicist began the Heavenly Sinners Writing Guild and asked me to assist her. At that first meeting, Bryony got its first reading debut (Hurray!), but I left with an assignment: write a humorous event, short, about three hundred words.

I've been stewing on this all month.

As a family, we laugh a lot. My children are funny. My cats are funny. My life is often a joke. I, however, am not funny.

Needless to say, I've written nothing.

Now, I'm not one to annoy my publicist (at least, not on purpose), so I'll have to produce something. With the meeting exactly thirty-six hours away, I'm not hopeful I'll come up with something sidesplitting in that time, especially since the lord of the jester muses has been silent for the last twenty-nine days (or so).

Yesterday, I read a blog from WriteLife LLC about writing comedy (http://writelifellc.wordpress.com/2011/06/06/writing-comedy/), which I carefully studied. The overall message was not to be contrived, to find your own natural humor.

Although that almost brings me back to square one, it's the best advice I have.

Please, wish me luck.

Wigging Out and Writer's Groups

Converations with my publicist Dulcinea Hawksworth are always profitable. Yesterday, she had two surprises for me.

She has not one, but two "John Simons" wig for tonight's shooting of the Bryony trailer. I'm also going to help lead a writer's group, beginning next month.

For the wigs, Dulcinea shopped around. One is a regular, full-size wig, but the other is a modified hairpiece, that she stitched to a headband, which "John" can wear under his head. This gives "John" options, in case one doesn't fit or doesn't look right.

The writer's group is at a healing and wellness store that is already displaying the Bryony cards and will carry the book once it's released. She will give me full details later. I haven't led a writing group since I taught a high school features writing class at Joliet Area Christian Cooperative, so I'm really looking forward to it.

In the meantime, hoping I can squeeze a nap into the day. Rising at midnight followed by work, school, a Holy Week service, and an evening film shoot makes for a LONG day.

Still...this is gonna be fun!

It's a Luxury We Can't Afford

Obviously, Bryony will never reach the historical importance of the Declaration of Independence--not should it--but I'm finding parallels between the composition of the two that are giving me perception and contemplation.

Yes, I've hit a wall.

Although Bryony was a story in my head for decades, because of other distractions in my life--as Thomas Jefferson in 1776 had--it took much mental prodding to get a workable draft on paper.

Once done, my "declaration committee" (the family--even the ones that did not like me--and friends who read it first) rallied 'round the manuscript, thoroughly convinced others would feel the same ("It's a masterpiece, I say. They will cheer every word, every letter!").

Of course, I didn't feel the same way, but I submitted my draft to congress, gathered my rejections and, once accepted by a publishing house, made the suggested corrections, hoping the work would speak for itself.

When the process became grueling, I reminded myself these changes were coming from the people that championed the story. If that felt a little warm, how would criticism from Bryony's enemies feel?

Just as Bryony came into the home stretch, Edward Rutledge stood and said, "Just a moment, Mr. President."

And here we are.

The remaining concerns are few--they haven't the magnitude of slavery, granted--but they are huge. I could dig my heels into the ground, shout, wave my frustrated hands in the air, and give myself an attack of apoplexy. Instead, I have chosen to have a somewhat rational conversations with my editor, keeping in mind Mr. Jefferson objected, too.

All weekend, Benjamin Franklin was my conscientious voice of reason, "How dare you jeapordize our cause when we've come so far...I beg you to consider what you're doing."

It's no longer me and my manuscript. The "board of trustees" page on Bryony's website has grown. The choices I make with Bryony will affect more than me, and I am ultimately responsible for that. As a writer, I know stories come to print "half improvise, half compromise," but I'm getting a deeper experience of that now.

And that is not bad.

As my publisher, Cindy Grady, once said to me, "If writing a book was easy, everyone would have one."

Touche.

On the other hand, my publicist warned me not to remove a supporting wall and part of the foundation to accomodate an extra bedroom. The discernment here is which ooms in the house are absolutely necessary, and what, as Benjamin Franklin said, is luxury.

I think I know the answer to that. With gritted teeth and an attitude adjustment--for I truly want to be gracious and thankful--I have already rolled up my sleeves and begun to work.

Logo, Makeover, and First Appearances

Wow! Bryony is getting busy.

First, the official Bryony logo and tagline is complete, thanks to Bryony's illustrator, Kathleen Rose Van Pelt (http://www.imaginarylinesstudio.com/) and CAL Graphisc, Inc (http://www.calgraphicsinc.com/).

To view, click onto Bryony's Facebook page: http://www.facebook.com/pages/Bryony/115857775121196?ref=sgm

My publicist, Dulcinea Hawksworth, has scheduled a makeover for this Friday afternoon and is coming with TWO cameras in tow--I don't own one :(--so she can take lots of pictures of the "new me" to post on the Bryony sites.

Now, this a little daunting for me because I don't wear makeup (I have chronic hives), but Dulcinea insists it's part of my packaging (see http://bryonyseries.blogspot.com/2011/02/i-am-commodity.html), and that the make-up is very hypo-allergenic.

I trust Dulcinea's judgment and, besides, it's should be a nice bonding time with my two daughters. Rebekah, seventeen, can heckle me in person, and my web administrator, Sarah Stegall, who lives out of state, can heckle me long-distance, via camera phones.

I have a dressmaker!!!

Last week she came to my house and measured me for my first, three Victorian outfits: two walking suits (spring and fall), and a ball gown. Yesterday, we purchased our first patterns and several yards of shimmering burgundy/black fabric, on sale.

Her future plans--sooner than later--is to kidnap me for a day (sans her children--two small boys who "helped" us yesterday look for patterns) and flee to a much larger, out-of-town fabric store.

Last, but certainly not least, Bryony has two upcoming events. Because any profits of the Bryony cookbook will be donated to Big Brothers Big Sisters of Will and Grundy Counties (http://www.bbbs.org/), Bryony is supporting the 2011 Bowl for Kids' Sake in two ways, by helping to fund event costs and through pledge-sponsored bowling on March 25.

If you live in the area and want to become a sponsor, form a team, join an existing team, or pledge a bowler, visit http://bfks.kintera.org/ for details. It takes $1000 to match one child with a positive adult mentor, so any help is welcomed, appreciated, and put to good use.

Bryony will also participate in an April 10 event at the Universalist Unitarian Church of Joliet (http://www.uucj.com/). I don't have details, but will share them when I do. Although WriteLife LLC does not yet have a release date for Bryony, the entire Bryony team is eager to start spreading the word.

To view sketches and biographies of the Bryony team, visit our website at http://www.bryonyseries.com/ or click here: http://www.bryonyseries.com/About_Us_FFC4.html.

I wonder if the spring walking suit is appropriate for April 10. I certainly hope so!!!

I Am a Commodity

I didn’t say it. My publicist, Dulcinea Hawksworth, did, about me.

I argue that my writing is a commodity, and she agrees with that, but also insists that I, too, as Bryony's author, am a commodity. Because I trust Dulcinea’s judgment, that’s why I’m at the mall with my mother and my daughter Rebekah, 17, when I should be huddled under the covers nursing my cold.

They have talked me into finally using the gift card one of my older sons gave to me four Christmases ago. My throat burns, my head hurts, and my body is really aching, but my mother, armed with credit cards and coupons, is definitely on a mission, since I only do this shopping thing about once every five years (No, seriously).

My oldest daughter, Sarah, who lives out of state, is serving as consultant via cell phone cameras. Rebekah has a supply of water bottles in her purse and feeds me an occasional cough drop. My mother buys me a coffee.

I am a commodity.

In JCPenney, the racks are full of jeans with pre-made holes. Before I decide I’m in style, after all, I catch a glimpse of my image, still dressed in route clothing, as I pass a mirror. I resemble a waif from an Oliver Twist orphanage. I decide to keep my mouth shut.

I am a commodity.

I stand in front of the mirror at Christopher & Banks with an armful of clothes my entourage selected for me and repeat those words. It’s not working. I'm still not believing it. The words of the White Queen from Through the Looking Glass echo in my head.

“Try again,” I hear the White Queen say. “Draw a long breath, and shut your eyes.”

Nope, I still don’t believe it, and it’s not because I haven’t had much practice, either. In a household as lively as ours, I have sometimes witnessed six impossible things before breakfast. I open the door, show off a very nice purple skirt and sweater combination and stare in horror at the khaki pants my mother is holding up.

“I can’t wear that color,” I protest. “I’ll look like I have yellow fever.”

But she pairs it with a navy blue sweater, which offsets the sallow color. The combination actually looks quite nice. It’s one of many clothing battles I will lose that day. The biggest conflict concerned the skinny-leg jeans at Carson Pirie Scott.

“My legs are too bony for these,” I said.

Rebekah and my mother look at each other and roll their eyes. “Some of us would love to have those legs,” my mother said.

“I can’t even move. I feel like I’m wrapped in cling plastic.”

“I’ll get a bigger size,” my mother said and returns with a 6.

I try them on, but they’re too baggy, so it’s back to the 4’s. Once the they’re are paired with a cream-colored turtle neck; a quilted, reversible vest; and a pair of nice, suede boots, I’m relaxed enough that I try on, for a lark, mind you, the size two leopard dress someone had abandoned in the dressing room.

My mother and Rebekah take bets on whether or not I’ll get into it. Ha! I do.
Triumphantly, I open the door. My mother looks pleased (she’s the one who found the dress), and an amazed Rebekah takes my picture with her cell phone and sends it to Sarah. Arghh! Too late!

“Did you include terms of use?”

Rebekah looks blank.

“Great. Knowing Sarah, she’ll probably post that as my new profile picture on Facebook.”

I check when I get home, to be sure, but the only thing Sarah has posted is a link to the music room on the Bryony website (http://www.bryonyseries.com/). The page looks great, and Sarah is highly pleased with her efforts. She's also had a highly productive phone consult with Ed Calkins, the Steward of Tara, but that's for another post.

However, I've been out way too late when I have to get up at midnight and deliver newspapers. Rebekah has offered to put away the entire wardrobe, so I drag myself up the ladder stairs to my attic office to check mail. My oldest son is gone for the night, but offered his chauffeuring assistance for the following night, after the blizzard starts, if I’m still sick.

Oh, and did I mention my mother gave Bryony’s website to every salesperson we met? So, I guess, whether or not I’m a commodity at this point is irrelevant. Right now, I’m feeling pretty blessed with my very supportive family. Even though, my mother's parting remark was, "Next, we'll have to do something about your hair!"

Not the hair!!!

We'll Be Skipping the Boiled Calves Head

My publicist, Dulcinea Hawksworth, assured me yesterday that any Bryony events that include food will only feature eye and palate-pleasing food, so boiled calves head probably will not make the menu.

The challenge will be making the dishes appear authentically Victorian without duplicating the less appealing meals served up at Simons Mansion, post-concert receptions, and balls. I think that's where we will have to rely on Melissa's judgment here, for who better to evaluate an item's appropriateness than Bryony's main character, since she's known both the nineteenth and twentieth centuries?

Considering Melissa's imaginary, Dulcinea might have trouble reaching our heroine for comment. Anyone out there volunteering to be taste-testers?

I Got an "A," Hurray!!!

Yesterday morning, Bryony's publicist, Dulcinea Hawksworth, and I reviewed a video she had sent me on branding and marketing. Dulcinea had urged me to watch it because she felt it contained some future networking opportunities for us, and we once again discussed goals for Bryony.

Two parts in that video really leaped out at me. One compared effective and ineffective logos and taglines, which reinforced my confidence that what we were designing was spot on. The other was a section about "giving back," which has been part of my marketing goal for Bryony since the beginning, and I triumphantly reminded Dulcinea of it.

"Congratulations," she said. "You have passed Marketing 101 with an 'A'."

Needless to say, I felt pretty good about that, considering my head is spinning with press kits, period costumes, strategy briefs, creating a music box for the trailer and CD cover, checking out locations for the trailer and music video, completing the cookbook, and CD cover art, including locating a model for John Simons, etc.

I'm not sure what's involved in the next marketing class, but with such an enthusiastic professor leading it, I'm definitely looking forward to it.

Maybe I Should Have Written a Poem Instead

A university English professor contacted my publicist with a request to review Bryony. My publicist hesitated because this professor has an editing background, and the manuscript is still going through the editing process.

So they made deal. My publicist would give her the most recent draft if the professor agreed to stop reading if she found more than three mistakes. You guessed it. She has stopped reading.

GRRRRRR..................

Copy editing is not my best talent. In fact, it's safe to say it doesn't even rank as a talent. In college, the teacher would distribute these handouts with copy mistakes for us to correct. I'd read through those assignments until I was half-blind, but it would always come back with all the ones I'd skipped circled in red ink. I seriously think I'm missing the part of the brain that sees punctuation glitches.

With Bryony, although I conscientiously fix each error, I consistently introduce new ones whenever I make a content change. It's a 525 page + manuscript. I figure by the time it's mistake-free, my grandchildren will be the ones signing copies. In the meantime, I'm practicing more patience and persistence. At some point, the only changing left will be "copy and fix." Boy, am I looking forward to that day.

"For what I do is not the good I want to do; no, the evil I do not want to do--this I keep on doing." Romans 7:19.

I figured Paul wrote this while he was copyediting Romans.

Branding Logos and Taglines, Grrr....

Coming up with ideas for a logo was easy, thanks to the previous creative efforts of Bryony's illustrator Kathleen Rose Van Pelt (http://www.imaginarylinesstudio.com/) and Christine A. Lindenberg, president and founder of CAL Graphics, Inc. (http://www.calgraphicsinc.com/).

An effective, snappy tagline, however, is eluding us.

Just when the majority of us like a particular verse, someone else comes along and slams it, either for the phrasing, the cadence, a solitary word, of all of the above. Sarah Stegall, Bryony's web administrator, has had fun creating really awful taglines and randomly posting them on Bryony's Facebook page (http://www.facebook.com/pages/Bryony/115857775121196?ref=sgm).

Yesterday afteroon, Sarah had a brainstorm of an idea. As I wavered between skepticism and cluelessness about certain concepts, Sarah very carefully explained how the process could work to me until I had sufficient understanding to be able run Sarah's idea past my publicist.

I don't want to say any further unless we go with it, at which point I'll fill in the blanks (once I grasp them enough to explain them). I never realized creating an image for a book was so complicated. I wonder how long it took McDonald's to do it.

Branding for Dummies

That would be me.

I ran downstairs to get the morning chores done (what better time than two a.m.?) and returned to find an email from my publicist to the Bryony team about an upcoming a trailer meeting. Confirming a date was the easy part. Then, I read the rest of the message.

Attached to that email were some concepts to ponder-in question format, of course--regarding branding, promotions, marketing, and communications. It was like walking into a pop quiz and quickly remembering you had forgotten to read that chapter.

I had figured once a publicist was on board, I just had to agree with her ideas and show up. She, however, is not letting me off that easy. I guess this means I'm supposed to be part of the process. She even suggested I write a blog post on branding. (Accomplished).

Actually, I see this as a series of blog posts that will give updates on my adventures into the world of marketing, sort of like ye olde school progress reports.

I have two weeks to formulate answers to her questions. Time to dig a new furrow in the aging brain cells, because this is definitely, for me, the untraveled road.

Wish me luck!

Writing's Greatest Award

Yesterday afternoon, I met with Bryony's publicist and Sarah Stegall, Bryony's web presence. Most the conversation revolved around Bryony's Facebook page, so they did the talking, and I did a lot of listening, since I have little to do with the Facebook page except enjoy the banter Sarah initiates.

The publicist had quite a number of posting ideas, which I was happy to hear. Sarah has been marvelously creative in both the number and variety of posts, and it was fun to hear the two of them brainstorming.

The best part for me, however, was a wonderfully joyful and upbeat afternoon, all because of Bryony. It was obvious from their comments how much they enjoyed story and loved talking about it. That, to me, is the greatest reward of writing.