I hadn't had anything to eat or drink since midnight and for the first time ever, the dentist was running late. So I sat in the waiting room for 20 minutes with a parched mouth and rumbling stomach. Grr.
However, I read a very interesting article in Vogue magazine, after leafing through scores of advertisements for expensive ugly stuff. (A cobalt blue fur hat? What is Ralph Lauren thinking?)
Once I was finally ushered inside, the dentist informed me that today's procedure would have to be done in two sessions. He'd finish up in mid-January, when I'd be knocked out again--for an additional non-reimbursable $500 because my dental insurer considers IV anesthesia "optional." Grrr.
The session went well enough; then with the left side of my mouth numb and rubbery, I slid into a taxi and went to Presbyterian-St. Luke's medical center, for yet another MRI of my right arm and shoulder (still giving me trouble after 2-1/2 years and 3 surgeries). They had me fill out the exact same 3-page form as I did yesterday, when I had an MRI of the right brachial plexus (upper chest by armpit) at P-SL hospital directly across the driveway. Why couldn't they just have that form faxed over? "Oh, we can't. It's been sent to Records." Grrrr.
After spending 2+ hours in a narrow, banging tube (thankfully, still drowsy from the morning's anesthesia), I took another taxi home. There I found that the Boy Wonder hadn't:
- brought my bag of holiday gifts to the post office;
- walked Jenny;
- left to take care of business at Metro State Denver (he's starting there next month) until 3:30, rather than in the morning as I'd requested. So I was left alone--hurting and nauseous--to contend with the guys who were installing additional cabinets in the kitchen.
- checked to see whether the microwave was empty when he moved it to make way for the cabinets Wednesday afternoon. I'd forgotten a large open jar of honey in it, and BW didn't bother to look inside when he heard it fall over. "It's just the tray banging around." You would not believe the sticky mess all over. (You would believe how I blasted him when he got home.) ARGH!!!
Jane wanted to know:
- whether I'd be giving a Book Promotion 101 workshop any time in her area, as she is "also working with a few writers who are thinking along these lines (self publishing) and I think they would be interested";
- "I'm especially interested in creating and developing a website (related to my book and my consulting work) that is itself a revenue stream. Is that something you cover in your workshops -- or can cover?"
- "I am on a brutal budget, so if there's an opportunity to help you publicize it and/or help you with it logistically in exchange for a discount, that would be great."
After turning the air blue, I wrote Jane that she's crazy to ditch her editor for self-publishing in the current economic climate. More to the point, if her "brutal budget" won't cover my workshop, how can she afford a book designer, editor, website designer, publicity materials, postage, etc? And that it's critical to have not only a marketing plan, but a distribution system to get her book into people's hands [which is where most self-published authors fall face flat]. And that unless the workshop is sponsored by an organization, I take care of all the logistics myself. Finally, as prominently stated on my website: I only work with authors of commercially published trade books.
The crux of the matter, which I didn't put in my response, is this:
Why should I give away my hard-earned expertise (not to mention my time) to help someone, whom I barely know, to make more money?
I'm not the only one who was pissed off today. See: