A few years back I decided to take a 5 week intensive Book Proposal Masterclass. I could afford it because I had earned 700$ in rewards from my credit card so instead of spending it on something useful or practical, i invested in my writing dream. It was full on. it was intense. it had too many participants in my opinion. It was a wealth of knowledge, overwhelming, boundary pushing. Overall a great learning experience. I am trying to take this book writing thing seriously, even if i only write my one hit wonder. I hadn't thought about a book proposal or what it entailed until taking the free 5 day mini taster class the week before. I had no idea how daunting it was to get one's writing/book out in to the world and SEEN. I barely socialized during those 5 weeks; as I worked through the assignments, i tried to figure out the best category for my book - memoir, self help, hybrid of the 2? Biography? I began to realize that for my genre, I didn't actually need to write a proposal! How frustrating to pay 700.00$ before learning that. Determined, I worked on the proposal nonetheless (couldn't get a refund). I gained clarity on the direction of my book but my biggest takeaway was how difficult it is for writers to make a living from this craft. If we weren't so damn obsessed with putting pen to page, there isn't much reason to pursue a career writing . It was a difficult pill to swallow - but - still I write. I must. I will finish this creation I started. Probably self publish. Working towards getting a book published isn't for those who crave instant gratification. It's a labor of love. The reward is seeing it through.
Here is mine. Hope ya'll are well. I was able to order Deborah's book from our local Indie. Can't wait!
"Writing from the trailer school, the week after a student is deported" (279 words)
I’ve decided we’ll each write a diary. Every morning, 15 minutes. Free-write, in what we call their recipe books. Friday we’ll put it all together. It’s cold, late November. A government shutdown just ended, SNAP’s been off. It’s a trailer school for prior drop-outs, some have felonies, they’re all hungry, not just for food.
On Friday I bring bagels, cheese, bananas. The center pantry is lean, but M found baked beans, his favorite. I ask him if that’s why he’s happy. He’s eating them out of the can.
But he says it’s not that. He has a proposal. In fact, he says he LOVES his proposal. He and his brother have figured out hope. It’s all here, in his diary. I’m all ears, I say.
When it’s time to share, we draw numbers. M goes last. In one long, run-on, rapped, and danced sentence, he performs:
HOPE IS THIS !!! [loud drum roll on the table] MAGA gonna make us GOOD, you know why? cuz it gonna blow everything up, destroy the whole country, think of it this way, we’ll be out of food, get bombed, nothing left and we’ll all get sick. America won’t be anything, but we’ll all be EQUAL.
Long, deep breath, his eyes circle the room. BUT:
After that, we gotta start over. Maybe we build ourselves back up the way we should, not built by killing or slaves, and we won’t be powerful anymore but that’s OK because we will be [dramatic pause, a whisper behind his hand ]: kind.
So listen, for real - let’s do it right next time.
M takes a bow. The kids decide next week we'll write about what "right" would look like.
It’s always inspiring to learn another writer’s process. Deborah’s prep work reminds me of my own, although I lie on a yoga mat versus the chair! Thanks for sharing her work.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” I asked my mom.
“Yes.” she replied, sleeping an arm to the backyard. “I can’t keep this up. Your father worked so hard out there and I just can’t keep it up. I am letting him down by neglecting this place.”
We sorted through 50 years of memories, and boxed up the things she wanted to keep the most. A distant cousin bought the house, he and his wife giving it another chance to raise a family.
My sister brought Mom to her new home, a fairly spacious one-bedroom apartment in an independent senior living facility not too far from my house. The facility that boasts dozens of weekly activities for residents. The one where my boys taught technology classes in middle school. The one home to more than a few members of my church.
“If this doesn’t work out,” Mom told my sister, “I will have only myself to blame.”
Three years and several medical problems later, Mom leaves her apartment for lunch with friends and a regular card game on Saturdays. I am her on-call taxi service and courier. Her daily phone call.
I don’t know if she regrets moving, but shamefully, I do.
Kim, such an honest piece. It’s definitely a lot: that intertwining again! I liked seeing the way the family home was left, but mom suddenly was planted in your community!
222 wbh no need for book proposal
A few years back I decided to take a 5 week intensive Book Proposal Masterclass. I could afford it because I had earned 700$ in rewards from my credit card so instead of spending it on something useful or practical, i invested in my writing dream. It was full on. it was intense. it had too many participants in my opinion. It was a wealth of knowledge, overwhelming, boundary pushing. Overall a great learning experience. I am trying to take this book writing thing seriously, even if i only write my one hit wonder. I hadn't thought about a book proposal or what it entailed until taking the free 5 day mini taster class the week before. I had no idea how daunting it was to get one's writing/book out in to the world and SEEN. I barely socialized during those 5 weeks; as I worked through the assignments, i tried to figure out the best category for my book - memoir, self help, hybrid of the 2? Biography? I began to realize that for my genre, I didn't actually need to write a proposal! How frustrating to pay 700.00$ before learning that. Determined, I worked on the proposal nonetheless (couldn't get a refund). I gained clarity on the direction of my book but my biggest takeaway was how difficult it is for writers to make a living from this craft. If we weren't so damn obsessed with putting pen to page, there isn't much reason to pursue a career writing . It was a difficult pill to swallow - but - still I write. I must. I will finish this creation I started. Probably self publish. Working towards getting a book published isn't for those who crave instant gratification. It's a labor of love. The reward is seeing it through.
so what is your book about? in a very micro-sentence! I'd love to see it.
A Mixed media memoir : Plain Jane. Adhd. Reckless decisions. Leaps of faith. Elephants. Cult behavior. Finding oneself again.
love it!
Here is mine. Hope ya'll are well. I was able to order Deborah's book from our local Indie. Can't wait!
"Writing from the trailer school, the week after a student is deported" (279 words)
I’ve decided we’ll each write a diary. Every morning, 15 minutes. Free-write, in what we call their recipe books. Friday we’ll put it all together. It’s cold, late November. A government shutdown just ended, SNAP’s been off. It’s a trailer school for prior drop-outs, some have felonies, they’re all hungry, not just for food.
On Friday I bring bagels, cheese, bananas. The center pantry is lean, but M found baked beans, his favorite. I ask him if that’s why he’s happy. He’s eating them out of the can.
But he says it’s not that. He has a proposal. In fact, he says he LOVES his proposal. He and his brother have figured out hope. It’s all here, in his diary. I’m all ears, I say.
When it’s time to share, we draw numbers. M goes last. In one long, run-on, rapped, and danced sentence, he performs:
HOPE IS THIS !!! [loud drum roll on the table] MAGA gonna make us GOOD, you know why? cuz it gonna blow everything up, destroy the whole country, think of it this way, we’ll be out of food, get bombed, nothing left and we’ll all get sick. America won’t be anything, but we’ll all be EQUAL.
Long, deep breath, his eyes circle the room. BUT:
After that, we gotta start over. Maybe we build ourselves back up the way we should, not built by killing or slaves, and we won’t be powerful anymore but that’s OK because we will be [dramatic pause, a whisper behind his hand ]: kind.
So listen, for real - let’s do it right next time.
M takes a bow. The kids decide next week we'll write about what "right" would look like.
Wow. And that kid seems to have got it right! Thanks for a great micro read.
✨🫂🙌💓🙏💗🌌✊🏻 absolutely love everything about this.
It’s always inspiring to learn another writer’s process. Deborah’s prep work reminds me of my own, although I lie on a yoga mat versus the chair! Thanks for sharing her work.
Thanks for your comment, Amie! Whatever works, right? :)
Regret
“Are you sure you want to do this?” I asked my mom.
“Yes.” she replied, sleeping an arm to the backyard. “I can’t keep this up. Your father worked so hard out there and I just can’t keep it up. I am letting him down by neglecting this place.”
We sorted through 50 years of memories, and boxed up the things she wanted to keep the most. A distant cousin bought the house, he and his wife giving it another chance to raise a family.
My sister brought Mom to her new home, a fairly spacious one-bedroom apartment in an independent senior living facility not too far from my house. The facility that boasts dozens of weekly activities for residents. The one where my boys taught technology classes in middle school. The one home to more than a few members of my church.
“If this doesn’t work out,” Mom told my sister, “I will have only myself to blame.”
Three years and several medical problems later, Mom leaves her apartment for lunch with friends and a regular card game on Saturdays. I am her on-call taxi service and courier. Her daily phone call.
I don’t know if she regrets moving, but shamefully, I do.
Kim, such an honest piece. It’s definitely a lot: that intertwining again! I liked seeing the way the family home was left, but mom suddenly was planted in your community!