Tales of a Book

Retelling and Reprinting Q&A

2012-02-06T17:44:00.000-08:00

Original questions are great, but the repeat questions, the ones that keep coming up, are great at showing me where there are gaps in successfully conveying information. I have been asked repeatedly, mostly author-editor-types, "who is the publisher, who printed it, is it on Amazon.com" type questions. So here is a brief Q&A, in case it saves any would-be published authors some footwork. The long answer and related stories are below.

Who is the publisher? Me. I self-published, in the most stripped-down sense of the term.
So you did it all yourself? Well, I had 3 people pre-read early drafts and give in-depth feedback, then I asked a million questions of about 15 people, then it got a final proofread by Chris. But besides all that help, yes.
Who designed and layed out the cover? Me (the art degree does occasionally come in handy).
Same with the pagination, photos and formatting? Yup. And conversion to PDF, for which my printer supplied special drivers to create the finished print-ready format.
Who printed it? DiggyPOD (their link is in text below) and they did an awesome job with both customer service and quality.
Is it on Amazon.com? Nope. It might be someday, but my margin is too slim to kiss it away to them in this printing round.
Where can I get a copy? Direct from my website or at SoulFood Books.
Is it available as an e-book? Not now. More specifics about why in the text below.
What is your cut of the cover price? About the same as a traditional publisher gives to an author - 10% to 15% depending on how you calculate it.

And for the in-depth story of how the book became a physical book, read below:

During the writing process, once I decided that I actually would have to print this thing, I looked at traditional publishers and thought about pitching to a traditional press. I fast learned that the vision of what I had in my head: a novel-style story, interweaved with color, coffee table-style photos, was not something that any traditional publisher will touch with a ten foot pole (the exception being universal guidebooks and 'how to' books). So I looked at self-publishing houses. That, I thought, would save me the trouble of pitching to a publisher, cost me a bit, give me a decent marketing, some distribution, along with an ISBN and listing on Amazon.com and even final editorial, if I wanted to pay extra for it. Lovely. How enticing! But after a little more investigation, I found that not only do self-publishing houses want you to jump through a bunch of hoops and don't really do anything significant to market their authors, but none of them offered the finished print option I had envisioned either.

That's right, even if I payed them for the service, they would not print it the way I wanted them to. So much for "self-publishing". So I went to the version of publishing that would allow me to select my own printer, and thus allow me to print a mostly word-style book with a bunch of full color photos inside, exactly where I wanted them (not just 10 plates in the center) and not charge me for full 4-color press across every page of the book. (Those of you who care, will find it interesting that color printing is about 8-10 times as expensive as black and white, novel-style printing for both the publisher and the printer. And I found that most print houses won't split a print job into partial black and white, partial color because collating and bindery becomes unmanageable. They want to either print all color or all black and white).

Here is where I segued into considering digital-only mediums like e-books. But that was short lived. My vision was for a solid-state book that can be held in the hand and flipped through. An actual physical book, with paper pages feels more timeless, less disposable and more "completed" in my mind. These things were all important to me. I wanted my grandma to be able to read it, and my grand kids (without retro software). I realize that many readers think this is old-school and that I should buck up and allow the book to be sold for $4 in a digital format. I am not there yet. I am thankful that just as many of you have piped up and agreed with me that print is a "more fitting" medium for this particular book. When all of the standard digital readers display gorgeous photos by default AND e-book conversion prices go down (yes, you have to pay to license each of the reader-friendly formats so that they can convert your book) then I'll consider it.

Back in the world of print, I spent about 8 hours online (in bite-sized chunks) scouring the internet for a printer that would print color pages in black and white books and place them where I wanted. I have printed with Blurb before, and they do a decent job printing all-color books at a premium. I priced this book out and it came to $129 per copy - just my cost to print it. That didn't include shipping. I checked other similar printer/binderies and found $86 was the lowest price for printing each individual book in full color, regardless of quantity.

Then, one night while I was picking through print shops, distributions houses and 4 color presses online, I must have entered just the right combination of keywords into Google, because I magically found DiggyPOD and they somehow managed to fit all my criteria: Mostly black and white pages, but color pages too, as many as I decided, quality paper choices, perfect bound, manageable quantities, print from PDF, printed in USA. And they could do it for a price that I thought people could afford. Magic.

So nope, you can't get it on Amazon, you can't get it at BN, but you can get it right here. And I have about 40 copies left from the first printing. SoulFood Books is the exclusive retailer. They also have a few left last time I checked, in case you are a fan of in-person purchases. Once the first printing runs out, I do have a longer term plan, but you'll have to wait and see how that unfolds in a future post.

Small Flight

2012-01-12T08:28:00.000-08:00

A photo of us and the plane we took from Lukla to Phaplu. The runway is just behind the plane - yup gravel strip at 7800 feet. Pilots are in the photo and the only other thing missing is Numbur Himal. No, wait - half of the entire tour group is missing! But Numbur Himal was right behind the plane wing (looking back at the Himalaya here, to the North). The rest of the group was (seemingly) farther than that. It was a 7 minute flight that took hours to arrange and board. The story is, of course, in the book.

Names in My Head

2012-01-08T11:40:00.000-08:00

Are you one of those readers that likes to know what a foreign word sounds like before you read it in a book? I am. I'll stop reading in the middle, pay attention and repeat it out loud to myself until I can say it right. But it's an easy thing to take for granted once you've seen and heard the word.

I've been there, I've listened to Nepali for a solid month and when I read emails from my Nepali friends, I hear their accent on the English words as I read them. The conversion the other direction has been harder. It's very hard to convey to my American friends and family what Nepali sounds like, how their pronunciation works. I attempted to do this in the very first written page of the book (Linguistics and Pronunciation) but I know that it doesn't cure everything.

Moments after I got home from the book release party, it occurred to me that no one, including myself had said the name of the book out loud during the release. Yes, of course the pronunciation of Chomolungma is in the glossary, but that only helps a little. I really meant to say it out loud in my American accent as best I could, so it could be heard. And maybe that's not as big a deal to most of you as it is to me. I love paying attention to the correct way to say things. This is a Sherpa word, which derives from Tibetan. The first sound is slightly different in Tibetan than Sherpa, so you'll see it spelled with a Q instead of a Ch sometimes. Truth is, it's a letter blend sound we don't make regularly. But to get close, say Song of "Chum-a-lung-ma" with emphasis on syllables 1 & 3. And that's the closest we'll get with an American tongue. Happy reading.

Essence of Voice

2012-01-05T10:11:00.000-08:00

One of the things I really enjoyed in writing the book, was using words to describe sound. Music is, by definition, an aural experience. The challenge of conveying that in words was a fun one to undertake. But I also brought back video, which captures both the audio and some of the visual that I described as well. I have to admit that reviewing video was crucial for me in being able to reconstruct many parts of the book. This video was interesting enough to me that I described exactly what's unfolding on the video, and thought I did a pretty good job, but the video still eclipses it in my opinion. You just can't convey the essence of voice in words. And that's a good thing.

If you have the book, re-read the last paragraph on page 168, then watch the video and note the following:
-Pemba, is next to me on the left in the red cap distributing tea, no doubt
-The police officer on the far left was with our company and did the silly dance with Milan and Maina. Here he is doing his regular job as security at the concert.
-People have asked me what Nepali language sounds like. To me, it sounds like he is singing in Italian.
-Milan must have been standing just behind me because he shouts "Yes!" when the kids sing along.
-You can hear the kids behind me singing even before Mingma gives the ones in front a chance to sing.
-The orange light humming.
-Mingma singing at 12,000 feet - amazing voice and how did he do that (they all did) so effortlessly with so little air! He even has enough extra to holler out to the crowd in the middle of the verse. Heh.

Yes, I am still marveling! Hope you are too.

Visual Post Story #1

2012-01-03T16:45:00.000-08:00

[I know, the photo runs over the edge, but I needed it this size so you can see details]

I took this as a simple documentary photo. I meant to capture the group, pre-dawn, in front of Everest, getting ready for an event. I know it's nothing spectacular (or even close) visually, since I was shooting right into the coming dawn, against the mountains, but I got more than a simple document to remember.

When I looked back at this photo (after almost forgetting about it) I saw small story points in it that made it more valuable to my memory. They are things that I didn't catch while I was there, so it serves as a window into a place I have only partially been. It feels like a photo that someone else took. Here are some of the things that occurred to me only long after I'd been home:

-The repeating pillows of moss-covered rock at our feet was different than everywhere else we'd walked. It looks like pillow lava here and I remember how difficult it was to walk across. The spaces between some of the pillows were the exact right size to wedge a foot and twist an ankle.

-Everyone was moving slow - it was about 6 am, air was thin, but there is one of the musicians in the upper left, posing and playing to cameras even on the tough terrain at this hour. Typical and ticklish to realize. I guess I'd gotten used to that variety of theatrics by that point. It was all around me, but I didn't notice it happening at this moment until I saw the photo back home. It's even more amusing when you realize that the police man has been employed to take the posed photo (the kneeling guy in blue fatigues).

-The 12 string guitar is laying unattended on the rocks, half covered by the banner, in the middle of the activity, noted but unharmed. I think we were about 3 minutes from standing in a shivering pile and singing when I snapped this.

-Lhotse dwarfs Everest from this vantage (Lhotse on the right, Everest dark in the center behind the ridge). Chomolungma doesn't look like the tallest even from here.

Over East Asia

2011-12-26T23:06:00.000-08:00

On occasion I think of a description or passage that existed in one of my early drafts, and I don't remember if it made the final cut. Then I sprint to my nearest copy and flip through pages until I find the answer. Here is some description of the flight over China and Korea that is not in the book. It's one of my first impressions of Asia.

We pass over Shanghai at 38,000 feet. Neatly-placed blocks of repeating towers and towers of high-rise buildings cluster in impossible numbers. It resembles my living room floor after a full-blown Lego city event. Even from this far above I can see how tall the buildings are, and how plentiful and dense. Inner city circles of buildings crowd in perfectly spaced, packed rows.

The view of Eastern China from way up here is farmland, vast and repeating. Factories spread tendrils of white smoke along the coastline and high-voltage power lines reach from them in ordered rows, sprawling toward cities. An open pit mine reveals the heart of one unlucky mountain. Here and there, dams, breakwaters and irrigation run for miles. Blue-green roofs over long rectangular buildings must be greenhouses or shelter for livestock; they sit in small groups like stacks of bricks waiting to be built into a wall. Clouds below us thicken and cover the unfamiliar hills which sprout up organically out of the manicured rows of farms. They are the only reminder of nature from way up here. The rest is evidence of man’s heavy hand, working in all directions of view until it fades into the blue horizon.

A Thousand Words

2011-12-24T11:28:00.000-08:00

Larger version of the photo here

I have studied many of my photos over and over. This is one. It tells a million stories just in itself. For me anyway. I'll try to encapsulate a few of them here.

Visually this appeals to me. Textures were somehow more dynamic here. The grass wall texture against the stacked stones with the laundry is delicious visually. The porters' baskets add. And they sit across the frame from the 3 empty gas cylinders, which are already tied together, awaiting the next porter heading back down the trail. They are echoed in the rows of soda bottles in the shop window. The doorway divides the photo into 2 parts very plainly, while the center character and the stone wall beneath binds them all together.

This was one of my very favorite high villages. We stopped and had lunch here, so I had time to get briefly acquainted with this place. The people were active and engaged. I was able to photograph several of them just going about their daily activities before we moved on again. The girl with the baby just out of frame to the right was one of the most intriguing. The "porter in training" photo from page 107 in the book was from this town. She is just a bit further right, out of the frame. Women were washing clothes near the creek, a row of men were lined up on a wall on a break, smoking and watching people pass through their town. Porters rested their baskets on the stone wall before continuing up the trail.

This is AC in the center of the photo. When I first went to take this photo, I was struck by the way he fit so naturally into the setting. He walked up the steps and sat among the villagers as they passed by behind him, occasionally stopping to talk. He sat quietly, indifferently surveying the village, perhaps taking a solo moment away from the chaos of his gregarious trekking group.

I took 3 other photos before this one. Then he saw my camera and flashed the deuces and stuck out his tongue (can you see that in this photo?). He's being playful. For me it shows how comfortable he was with the camera, with me and his surroundings. But photographically it also adds the variety of levity that was prevalent here. I often found the gravity of the living conditions very serious as I passed through, but here is it punctuated with the playful humor that is just as prevalent.

Then I remember that AC bridges two cultures so very gracefully, humorously and naturally just as his figure connects the 2 sides of this photo.The juxtaposition of these is what makes me look back at this one.

One Off the Cutting Room Floor

2011-12-22T17:17:00.000-08:00

Some of my early drafts had stories that I later cut for various reasons. Most were cut because I felt they didn't add to the story or to anyone's character. But I forgot that I cut this one. And in retrospect I probably should have left it. It serves to close a small loop from the beginning of the book, and perhaps fleshes out a few of the characters in minute ways, but is otherwise inconsequential.

~~

Time moves slowly here. There are not even any rushed tourists on their way to somewhere, and I feel the beat of rural Solu full force. It moves me. But beyond that, I have been hiking for 5-ish hours every day for the last 2 weeks, and now we are sitting, resting, not moving all at once. My muscles are itchy and want some exercise. I find a quiet corner of the patio to turn some cartwheels and press into a few handstands. Young Sonam finds it interesting. I know he has done some yoga, and I caught him in Tengboche flipping around in the grass beside the trail. “Handstand contest, Sonam?” I challenge him.

“Ok, handstand, go!” he grins at me, kicking up in the middle of the patio. We spend several minutes upside down, walking on hands across the open cement area. Sonam drops back to his feet.

"Again!" I challenge, giving him a second chance. It occurs to me then that he's half my age. I probably shouldn't have done that. We kick up again and I drop down first. Mausami is watching intently, calling the winner each time.

Sonam misses my meaning when I call "best of three."

“Do it again!” Mingma calls over the rest of the guys at the table on the opposite corner of the patio, Mausami encourages him as well. We oblige. I notice it’s easier to do handstands than usual. I am lighter. I wonder how much weight I’ve lost along the trek. He falls a short second before I do, and nods to me conceding the win before grabbing a stock pot to aid the cooks. Muscles happily exerted, I return to a seat in the sun.

Trash Talk

2011-12-16T07:29:00.000-08:00

This is a long one with a moral. Grab a cup of tea and get comfy. A story that didn't make it into the book:

Off the Everest Highway, away from the tourists and the more "primped" towns that are on display for all (still nothing near Waikiki) there is noticeably more trash along the roads, in the streams, well, everywhere. It's clear to me that this country is in a state of change, between adopting Western practices and utilizing their own traditional means. I never did get used to the trash and the way it collected in waterways and ditches.

One of the medical NGO workers I spoke with one day spelled it out plainly, and for the first time I totally understood why there seems to be so much trash. "Traditionally, they eat a potato or an orange and the peel goes on the ground, to be turned in and used to fertilize the next planting. There is no harm in dropping a banana peel or even a chicken bone on the dirt road because it degrades and even benefits the land it came from. But our Western culture has imposed plastic wrappers and cellophane covering everything, and tin cans and water bottles." And now it lives in high villages of Nepal, where there is no garbage removal, no system or service in place to routinely remove the waste that it creates. I took pictures of some of the most disturbing images I found, but have resisted showing any of them. I am not sure that is my place.

One day our group was out along the road waiting for things to happen. One of the younger guys on the trek who I'd gotten to know pretty well was standing above the road on a stone wall. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a snack, then tossed the wrapper down into the muddy ditch along with 2 dozen others of the same. Without thinking, my knee-jerk, mommy reaction blurted out, "Oh, no-no! Pick that up!" Exactly like I would say if my own kid did such a thing here.

But I was not here, I was in Nepal. John and Clint had been talking with me in a close triangle and John abruptly stopped, grabbed my wrist and chided me for yelling at him. "No, no... it's not our place.. no, no Sis...." I felt terrible. I knew John was speaking from a place of cultural sensitivity, and I was intruding. I was completely out of place to bark like that. Not that they agreed with the action. They both spent the entire trip hauling used cigarette butts in their pockets until an acceptable rubbish can was found. Sometimes that was an entire day or more. So I wrestled internally with the issue of culture versus progress. Was it better to overstep and perhaps make a positive difference, or resist imposing more of my Western eye on the situation?

The offending trash-tosser climbed down the wall and approached the discarded wrapper, carefully considering it. It was mud-covered, yak dung-covered, certainly not anything you'd want to touch or carry around. But I got the desired result. He saw an outsider's reaction and considered what he'd done. I expressed to John that this is all I wanted, that it was important to me, for this young Nepali to understand that he had another choice. And I think he did. But the guilty feeling of yelling at him, of stepping out of place and over cultural bounds really gnawed at my insides for a long time afterwards.

Today AC and I were talking about volunteer cleanups and trash removal in that very area of Nepal. He said to me, "I am so glad you yelled at that guy for throwing his trash..."
"Really?" I blurted, cutting him off, "because I felt really bad after I did that."
Then AC went on to explain how the locals will have to be educated on trash collection, most likely from the youth upward, instead of the other way around. And I think he is right. He has plans to implement a repeating cleanup program for some villages in Solu. I think that's a mission I can get behind, so I'd like to help. I can see myself standing in galoshes in the streams of Solu, picking out wrappers and broken bottles. And I can also see myself talking (not yelling) to the local youth about how they can make their home village more beautiful, in hopes that they will tell their elders.

I do believe that one person can make a difference, particularly when they are driven by the heart. But I think it also multiplies when the sentiment is taught, learned and spreads as a result of that one person. Let me know if you want to join me.

One That Got Away

2011-12-14T07:00:00.000-08:00

Not all the stories that I brought home made it into the book. Some were just not complete enough or interesting enough to put in. Some were interesting, like this one, but really didn't fit in any specific place without disrupting the overall story flow. Others I wriggled the best bits from and put them into others. It's a lot like weaving. You pick the best threads and put the necessary filler threads where they must go.

Following are some of my notes, direct from my journal of a few visual experiences I had early in the trek.

There are close to 3200 photos now. 3 concerts to go and new landscape from here to Salleri. I have many more to take, but there are several that I have not taken and until I pound them out in words, they’ll haunt me. There are photos that I have resisted taking out of respect, but others I was not allowed. Words will serve to describe them when my camera cannot.

-There are signs on the outside of police buildings in Kathmandu that say “No photographs here” in English, of course. Just outside, near the razor wire and tall stone walls, stands a single officer in camo gear with a semi–automatic weapon across his chest.
-Along side a stream in a village, a baby sits alone and plays with yak dung and a crushed Snickers wrapper.
-A limbless beggar, crumpled up (probably from polio) near a stone wall at the largest Buddhist temple in Kathmandu, leans longingly out toward tourists with a string and bucket around his neck.
-My friends praying in monasteries, bowing to the floor multiple times, uttering words I don’t understand, but sentiments that breach all barriers.
-Old ladies in local villages, ever watchful eyes who seem so tired of cameras being pointed at their weathered, weary faces.
-2 ladies in dresses and fuzzy, fur, 3-flap hats (just like the ones in Raiders of the Lost Ark, Nepal scene), walking into a lodge for a celebration.

Release Redux

2011-12-11T16:38:00.000-08:00

Yesterday was the official book release party. It was an emotional, fun, energetic, soulful way to kick off a book. I am pretty sure it was unique as book releases go. You can see the live stream here. Then skip the first 10 minutes. The stream started on time, we started late.

We sang, we read from the book, we cried. Really. It's very strange to read your own emotionally crafted words out loud to a room. New and scary experience. Remember, I come from a photography background. I am not used to being the one on stage. But I wasn't the only one who cried. Which helped me validate my unruly emotions and showed me that perhaps this book is about a subject that many people will be able to relate to on some level. I hope so.

But now the book is out and had been distributed. Lots of people spent today diving in. I can't wait to hear the feedback whether it be negative, positive, commentary, confusion or empathy. But regardless of what it is, I want to hear it. Because one of the things I learned about this whole project is, the hardest part about putting yourself out there is listening to the silence afterwards. Find me here.

Reconstruction

2011-12-08T14:21:00.000-08:00

There are several stories in the book that were inconsequential when I first heard them in Nepal. Once I was home, I could reflect differently on the experiences and this helped fill out the skeleton of notes in my journals. Much of the time I spent in writing stories into the book involved talking to the people who were there, getting the story straight and complete. This process was a joy for me. I loved hearing how other members of the group perceived the encounters we had.

When I got to Gambu's story I found a bunch of scrawl in my notebook. Much of it didn't make sense and none of it was complete, but I knew it was an important bit and needed to be in the book. Luckily Gambu is in the same hemisphere as I am (New York) and I am able to call him pretty easily compared to the other Nepalis in the story. Through about 3 phone conversations I was able to reconstruct the story that Gambu told me in Nepal. I scribbled more notes each time we spoke on the phone, then went off to write and organize thoughts. Then I had to call again to get facts straight. Finally I completed the story as it exists in the book and tears ran down my face when I read it in context for the first time. I think it's one of the strongest parts of the book in illustrating many of the important themes that run through it. In case you are wondering where to find Gambu's story in the book, don't worry, you'll certainly know it when you get there.

Related Tales

2011-12-02T23:00:00.000-08:00

I was dropped off at SEA-TAC airport a couple hours early the day we flew out to Nepal. So I had a couple hours to kill after security and bag check. I decided to call my mom (bad decision) and let her know that today was the day I was leaving the country, "and my cell phone will be off for a month," you know, little last minute reminders. We'd had several conversations about the trip and she knew the specifics already. But my mom doesn't do last minute the same way I do, and she took the opportunity to panic about her daughter flying to the other side of the globe instead. The conversation went something like this:

-Hi Mom, I'm at the airport, just about to fly to Nepal. Thought I'd say 'bye' and remind you that I'll be out of touch for a while.
-You're leaving now? A whole month? Will you be in contact with Chris? How will we know if...
-Yes Mom, we have it all worked out. Call him whenever you want. I just wanted to remind you of the day so you know I won't have my phone on for a while.
-Ok, so who are you're going with anyway?
-A Nepali climber who lives the next town over from us, a couple American musicians from the same town, and a whole bunch of Nepalis.
-But do you know any of them?
-I interviewed the lead guy and I've met the Americans.
-So you don't really know any of them. Are you...
-Mom...
-It sounds like you don't really know anyone you are going with and you're going to be far away. I'm just...
-Mom, I am sure that in a week or so I'll have 30 new hiking buddies. Don't worry! I'll be fine.

That tactic worked and I wriggled my way off the phone. I said what I said to get my mom off my back, but honestly I had no idea how it might go. I wasn't worried, I knew it would all work out fine. But I didn't anticipate how wrong I could be. In the end, I didn't end up with a bunch of hiking buddies. I ended up with a bunch of people that I used to call strangers but they became close enough that now I call them family.

Book Release Specifics

2011-12-01T13:37:00.000-08:00

We're getting close! The books are in motion, in a truck, making their way here! I am guessing you'd like to hear one more story before they arrive, but I don't have a story today, so I'll spell out my approximate plan for how the books you have purchased will be received.

December 10th is the first day anyone will have a book. The people who come to the Release Party will get their paws on their purchased copy there. Yippee!

Now, to make it kind of fair for those of you who are not local, I will do my very best to get your books in the mail so you have received them on Dec 10 (or maybe a day earlier or later). But they will come in a flat book-box VIA US Mail.

You can purchase a book at the release party as well.

Now I know there is another story somewhere.. I guess I'll go find it and follow this post with it.

As We Speak

2011-11-22T14:59:00.000-08:00

(Actually as you read...)

The book is uploading... being sent to the printer RIGHT NOW! Aak! If ever I deserved a freak out moment, this might be it. I have combed and scoured, looked and re-looked, had it checked and rechecked. I think it is the best I can do at this particular time, in this particular place. There are only so many times you can look at the same words, regardless of how many it is.

So I'm done. I sent it. I pushed the button. I couldn't change anything else if I wanted to. Now I am taking the biggest deep breath that I can remember in the last 9 months. That's how long it took to get all the words and photos out that I needed to. Of course there are more stories. There are always more stories. As my head spins down from the execution of the ones I chose to share, I am sure more and more like the Irish gal story will reveal themselves to me. I'll share them with you here in case you are interested.

For now, think about clearing your schedule on Dec 10 at 1 PM PST at SoulFood Books. That's when you'll have the best chance to put paws on the finished product! Even if you aren't local, you can share in the fun and help us celebrate. That's right - everyone who can read this is invited! SoulFood has a live stream where you can watch what's going on in their shop while they stream! Check this link to go there now. If that doesn't work, check soultribetv.com and follow the link to the live stream. We'll be there on the date and time!

I'm a little excited, can you tell?

Final Dates

2011-11-19T23:03:00.000-08:00

I am truly beside myself. I keep telling people that completing this book feels like I am standing outdoors naked (in this weather). I am overwhelmed by the support and positive response I've had to this project. It is unnerving... no, terrifying to think that people actually want to read this, and that people ARE actually going to read my words, my thoughts, my personal story. Terrifying. But it is really going to happen. No turning back now.

Wheels are in motion! I have a final date for the local book release and signing party. Mark your calendar for Dec 10 (Saturday) from 1-3 PM at SoulFood Books. It's going to be a fun afternoon - I'll sign your book, we'll read a couple bits, do some songs that were written in Nepal, and share some stories from the trip. Please come, even if you don't think you want a book. We'd love to have you there to help celebrate with us! John and Clint will be there and it is perfectly set up for an event like this. We may even stream it live to Nepal. Wouldn't that be a fun twist.

See you there!

The Slow Reveal

2011-11-11T17:25:00.000-08:00

Obviously it can't be too slow, since I told you two days ago that we're down to less than 10 days (eeks)! I spent a full day cussing at Word Press to remake my photography website and now I have a page or two that will serve to tell you about the book and give you a place to order. (yippee... at long last... thanks for hanging in there.)

First, it shows you the title and pretty cover. (insert oohs and aahs here please.)
Second, it runs down the price, payment options and has you fill out a little form.
If you aren't already sold and chomping at the bit to get yours right way, that's cool. Here's a little excerpt so you can read a bit before committing.

Other tidbits:
My printer promises about an 8 day turn around, so this will be back long before Christmas, Insallah. (Read this if you don't know what insallah means.)
If you are local I will be doing a distribution in Bellevue about a week after they come in. I'll arrange a location and let you all know in advance of the date so you can meet me there. If you don't include shipping $, I'll assume you are meeting me to pick up your book(s) but click the radio button on the form anyway since I went to the trouble to make it for you.

Last time I checked, my signature is worth squat, but of course I'll sign your copy if you really want that. (I am flattered that I've been asked that question so much already!)

If you have questions, fire them off to erika@frommyart.com
Timi haru ko nishcaya dhanybhad - thanks for your confidence in me. It has carried me far.

A Book by Any Other Name

2011-11-11T06:56:00.000-08:00

Once I had 30,000 words down, a title came to me. It jumped into my head, curled up in my lap and smiled at me like a big-pawed puppy. I liked it. It sounded big but not too big. Nothing to compete with Krakauer or Viesters anyway. But my story isn't a hard core climbing story, so I was ok with that. The title was just about perfect. So I shared it with a couple people enthusiastically and with a big proud grin. The return fan fare was less than stellar. No one was thrilled, but particularly when I shared it with AC, he turned up his lip and shrugged. Hmmm.

I spent about 2 weeks uninvesting from this sweet little puppy, and was title-less for a while. I thought of different ways to refer to to the things that happened in the story, the area we traveled through, and I dissected a couple languages for inspiration. But titles are (or can be) make-or break items. No worries, at this point I was still writing the book ONLY for me. No one else was even going to see the darn thing, save my immediate family and a couple close friends who apparently "love my writing!"

I picked it up, put it down and picked it up again. Then I got frustrated and quit thinking about it. Lo and behold, that method seems to really work for my brain. A new title jumped into my lap and this puppy was even more fluffy and happy. So I kept it and it's on the cover right now. I'd type it out here, but it's easier to put in a link so you can see the pretty cover too. If you love it, great, I am happy for you. If you don't, bummer and sorry, but too bad. It's my puppy and I am not giving this one back.

Last Thorns

2011-11-10T06:07:00.000-08:00

I can actually feel the last days of this 9-month-long project ticking down. It's refreshing and necessary and kind of sad. I can see the finish line, I just need to reach and claw a bit longer to get across it. Here is my first unofficial timeline estimate: 10 days until printer. Just 10 days until it is out of my hands and will magically become a finished thing. I am just sure I'll miss working on the book once it is done. Of course, holding a copy in my hand should quell some of that, but the act of working on a project that is basically completely self governed is pretty amazing. I am not even using a self-publishing house. I am going straight from author to printer. (I am not a big fan of middlemen.)

The final thorns are mostly minor. I ordered an ISBN today (woot!). That was weird and made everything feel kind of official. Then I attempted a bit of the last formatting steps. I really thought I would be able to format this whole puppy in MS Word. I called my printer and got all the details on margins, bleeds and set everything up splendidly. Problem is, I have apparently maxed out MS Word's margin, section and footer capabilities. I need about 5 sections to be full bleed (no footer, margins, header or any white space on the page) so I can cover it with photos. Word doesn't like to do that more than once per document, apparently. In my version anyway. I guess you learn something every day.

So one of my final thorns will be finding a layout program that allows this sort of thing AND exports to PDF in the format that my printer needs.

But this is all small apples. After what it took to get this far, ain't no formatting issue gonna stop this girl.

Unfinished Business

2011-11-08T10:02:00.000-08:00

Once I was back home, I spent days and long hours in the thick of madly writing out detailed descriptions of the places I'd just been before they vanished from my memory. Through this process, I couldn't help but keep wanting to "go back to that place" for just a split second to see if my memory of the ambiance was the same as reality. Time does strange things to memories. And the idea of teleporting (just for a second, please, please!) entered my mind on several occasions. I knew when I was leaving Nepal, that in a perfect world, I'd spend a month in a tea house in Kathmandu writing everything out while still in the culture. That would have maximized being able to access the feelings, sounds, experiences of places as I was describing them. It felt very unfinished to be leaving without a moment to do that, knowing I'd have to do it back home.

The best I could do was talk to my friends back in Kathmandu about the places I'd been, to hear it from them, and double check my memories through their lenses.
One such memory was of the bathroom of a beautiful restaurant we went to as our "welcome dinner" the night we arrived in Kathmandu. In the book I name it, describe it and then rest on the description of the bathroom. So in checking my memory, I'd forgotten to take a photo of this memorable bathroom. I remember being completely taken with the entire restaurant, the food, the conversation, the sounds of the city, but I was, for some reason, enamored with the beautiful bathroom. The hand-detailed tiles were more stunning than all of the rest of the restaurant, in my opinion. So once I was back in the US, I asked one of the ladies on the trek to go to the restaurant and take a photo of the bathroom for me. And she did.
"It is a pretty bathroom, right, it's not like all the others??"
"Yes it's pretty nice, yes, I'll take photo for you, didi." (I imagine her rolling her eyes at me)

Of course she politely excluded the portion of the bathroom that I was looking for, but the photo served its purpose and besides refreshing and confirming my memory, it served to remind me of yet another, unrelated memory of Nepal. She sent it to me in September. Check the date on her photo for a hint.

Photo Prophecy

2011-11-06T10:10:00.000-08:00

When I sat down on Christmas eve last year to interview AC about his seven summit climbs, I felt really honored. I was actually in disbelief that I had pulled off an interview with this guy. In the car on the way to the meeting, I kept running through my head: He is a world record holder, he is a formidable persona, and he's meeting with "lil ole me" for an interview!

After the interview, I realized I had not brought my camera (I was a little unnerved while preparing) and couldn't take a photo of the two of us. I really wanted one of those "here I am with a celebrity" photos, and though it would have been in a coffee shop, against a bland white wall, at that moment, I'd have taken it and been thrilled.

In going through my photos for the book, I ran across this one which is one of many like it that I now have. And looking at it for the twentieth time brings back memories of the trek, but also of that Christmas eve interview and all the distance that has dissolved since then. I think about how uncomfortable I would have been to ask him for a photo after the interview. I think about what that coffee shop photo would have looked like and it makes me giggle.

Untold Dailies

2011-11-04T09:50:00.000-07:00

When I was an art director, we created an animated product based on a feature film. Our product was to be released along with the movie. As such, we received "dailies" from the feature film production crew, meaning we got a VHS (yes it was a while ago) of all the film they shot in a day, uncut, unedited, unfinished, so we could see exactly what the characters looked like and how the scenes progressed. We got dozens of snipits of the story as they were created.That was a wonderful window into almost being in the film production crew and served to help us create our product, since it was the only real visual reference we had to work from. But since movies are shot in a non chronological order, it was wholly confusing to try to put the parts into a semblance of order to understand the story line. Some days we were left piecing bits together and filling in the gaps with our imagination.

I found I was applying the same methods as the film crews in getting the stories out for this book. A story would be forefront in my mind, and I'd tap it out without regard to chronology. That makes for a bunch of snipits that then need to be woven together. So getting it all out was the initial draft phase. Then the weaving began... and it took twice as long to weave it all together than the story-telling phase. But it had to be done that way, because it was too big of a thing to all fit in my head (or an outline or notes) all at once, in one place.

Another thing I learned (again) while telling a story this long is that you can't tell it all. There are things that were interesting at the time that simply don't translate well. There were simple moments that are insoluble in their beauty, but don't go down on paper or in photos. In other words, they were real moments, simple and direct as part of life. Things that expressing in words functions to destroy, rather than embellish. The funny thing is, it is important as I look back at these snipits to realize this fact. I have a deep desire to include them, and that would be to the detriment of the book as a whole. Some stories serve to embellish others, some denature the ones around them. And I suppose this is all common knowledge and trivial study among the literarily-trained folk out there who might be reading this, but it was something I learned along the way. And it happens to be one of the things I like best about storytelling. But you all didn't want to see the dailies anyway. There is a finished feature out there and it's a lot easier to tread through.

It Was All Sherpa

2011-11-02T10:58:00.000-07:00

(Yeah, songs again in the title.)

Sherpas are the culture of people who live in the high Himalaya, in the shadow of Mt Everest. The group I traveled with was predominantly Sherpa. They are a jovial, friendly, very social people and thrive on connecting in their own community and others. One of them from the trek lives in New York and I have kept in good contact with him since returning. About a month after I got back I recorded this:

Gambu called me today. He's in New York so it's not an international call. I sent him some raw video the other day and he was calling to thank me for it and catch up. He is typical Sherpa in that he actively pursues connecting with his friends and family through phone and Facebook and any means available. He does it just to say hi, or to chain the "news" of what's going on in the Sherpa world. I love being an extended part of that.

We've had several exuberant conversations since we both arrived back in the US. Today was no exception, and the verbal gymnastics that goes on is sometimes entertaining enough in itself that I thought I'd try to capture the miscues and misunderstandings. I don't think you need to know expressly who each of these characters is, but know that Sherpa families name their babies for the day of the week they were born. Which leaves a lot of re-used names, and a little bit of confusion. Oh, and 'didi' isn't my actual name. It means 'sister' in Nepali, and that is how Gambu has always referred to me.

"I talked to Pemba and Dawa, you know, Mingma's brothers?" Gambu began after our bubbly greeting in both English and Nepali.
"Yes I have spoken to Pemba on the phone for Mingma's music video." I'd been head-down working on a video for one of the other Sherpa musicians on the trek.
"Dawa's wife just came here from Kathmandu to visit for a while. Pemba and Dawa, they both saw your video. Pemba, he is my neighbor, you know. Dawa, he writes the lyrics and some music for Mingma, you knew that right."
"Yes, I did know that, so they saw my music video that I put together for Mingma?"
"Yes and they both say, 'Oh, how clear and beautiful the video is!' They like it very much!"
"Great, so they like it? I got the feeling from Mingma that he thought it needed more work."
"Oh yes, they say 'very nice, but keep going'.."
"I think I met Dawa at the airport on the way out of Kathmandu...Mingma introduced me to him as we were leaving...."
"No, Dawa has lived here 2 years, you meet a different Dawa... oh, you mean the other Mingma Sherpa, long-hair Mingma? I know that Dawa Sherpa, he is a different Dawa..."
"No, not long-hair Mingma, Music Mingma! He met us at the airport and gave me his CD for the video, and he introduced me to a Dawa... at least I think it was a Dawa... I might have misunderstood his name. He was very excited to meet me. He said he was with Mingma's music company."
"Okay, I know that Dawa, a short guy, right? Yes, he is another Dawa in Mingma's music."
"Oh, that was not his brother, Dawa Sherpa then?"
"No, different Dawa."
"What's his last name?"
"Sherpa."
"Another Dawa Sherpa and 2 Mingma Sherpas...?" I giggle.
"Didi, we are all last name Sherpa! Don't you know??"

Six Thousand and a Sieve

2011-10-30T12:41:00.000-07:00

Besides the writing itself, I have about 6000 photos in my arsenal to add imagery to the book. The hardest part isn't what to include, it's what not to include. There comes a point when the description that appears in the reader's head is better than any image that could be added to embellish it. Or at least I hope that's how it works out.

I've gone through the set of 6000 about 7 times. I keep thinking I'll make a master subset and just pick from those, but every time I need to grab a batch, the subset I picked last time isn't complete enough. Some aspect has been left out. When I spoke at Soul Food Books to the group who followed Clint and John, I knew they wanted to hear the music part foremost, so I focused on that portion. When I selected photos to go up on my photo share, I tailored it to the photographers and what I think they most want to see. When I spoke at REI in Seattle, I didn't mention music once. I focused on the trekking, the culture and the people of the area. But this book is the first time I'll be able to incorporate all of the different aspects of the story which means another run through the 6000 photos.

Regardless of how many there are in the book at the end, only a tiny fraction will be seen. This is a story, not a coffee table book. But there will be photos and they'll be my favorites and they'll be in color.

Insallah

2011-10-28T09:02:00.000-07:00

When we returned to Lukla (back down to 10,000 feet from the top), we had a couple days to rest. One evening in the common room at dinner, I talked to an Irish gal who was staying in the same lodge as we were. About my age or a little younger, she had been traveling solo through India, and now Nepal. Before that she had spent time traveling in Pakistan and working there in an office to make money so she could travel some more.

We were discussing the different cultural tripping points, things we found interesting and most different from our own cultures. She helped me draw parallels between what I knew of Pakistan culture, and this one I have come to know in Nepal. But the differences are vast, too. I asked her about conducting business there and she replied, "Very little work ever appeared to get done the way we Westerners think of 'done'. I'd ask if a document had been completed, or a product shipped and the answer was invariably, 'insallah', which means 'God willing' or 'If Allah wills it' which isn't a very cut-and-dried way to do business, if you ask me. They would answer 'insallah' to your every query....'Are you going to lunch? Is there a meeting now? Have you heard an answer from the director?' and the answer is always 'insallah.'"

When I looked at her with a vague glimmer of understanding, specifically from the things I had just been through along my trek, she continued and went into specifics. She gave me a good idea of what they consider an agreement, a contract and a method for working. But the interesting part is that they get business done, they just get it done differently. Very differently than we do, in fact. I have had to embrace this set of thoughts in working through the end of this book.

In looking back, it helped me so much to hear her words. They must have fallen at just the right time. I had forgotten all about her until I was wrestling through the cultural stopping blocks that I am at this point in the book. It's intriguing that part of the story which seemed unrelated as it happened, is becoming part of the answer. Is the book done? Insallah.

Initial Acclimitization

2011-10-26T08:38:00.000-07:00

Stepping back in time, here is a bit of story...

When I arrived in Kathmandu, I had already been gone from home for 36 hours. Three days later, I felt like I had been there for a month. So much had happened already: I met about 50 people, I learned new places, new foods, new streets and buildings. I had to figure out new toilets, new ways of dealing with electricity, internet, air and sleep. I learned how to be a female person in Asia, which, by the way is a whole different animal than here in the US. I can lead just fine, it's the following that I have a little trouble with. But the whole thing, every step of every day for those first 3 days was new and different, and a cultural shift in the largest sense.

I wasn't the only one who felt this way. Clint and John both remarked that it felt like a month in 3 days. When the trip was over and I was back at home, I shifted time zones again and unwound all of the cultural shift that had taken place over the previous time. I have been home 6 days. My hubby remarked this morning that it felt like I had been here a month. Of course he said it in the most positive and supportive light: "She's just slipped right back in where she was."

But now it feels like a month since I have seen my Nepali friends, and I am left wondering why. So I pick apart the reasons that time seems to stretch so extremely when shifting between cultures and spaces. When I travel inside the US, it doesn't feel this way, but I remember my trips to the Caribbean and Central America being a similar experience. The learning-while-traveling process tends to lengthen life in some respect. And I love that. Life is and will always be too short.

Character Creation

2011-10-24T10:50:00.000-07:00

I am just sure that most novel writers spend the majority of their waking and sleeping hours developing characters. I was spared that since my book is NOT a novel - it's non fiction. My characters were already developed and it was just my job to call it like I saw it. The main character in my book (ok, besides me, I am telling the whole story from my point of view) is a guy by the name of AC Sherpa. I met him for an interview of my magazine. Any of you who have been following the magazine since February already know this. If you haven't, here is the article that came from meeting my protagonist. And yes, it will give you a little back story about me as well.

http://seattlebackpackersmagazine.com/2011/02/01/seven-summits/

For You and for Me

2011-10-22T07:44:00.000-07:00

For the record, I like hiding song lyrics and titles in my blog writing, so feel free to begin singing when you see a title, if it strikes you.

I spent the first 2 months writing with reckless abandon. It was a purge, a way to capture all these fresh ideas and thoughts and memories that were fading away too quickly. Once that purge hit a sort of equilibrium (or maybe I just finished my reacclimitizaton to US culture) I began asking questions of myself about the book.

"Why am I writing this?" is always first. That was answered in the first 2 posts of this blog. "Who am I writing for?" immediately followed. Because if you don't know who your audience is, then your voice gets fuzzy. If you are speaking an unintelligible language to those hearing your message, then you've failed. But changing the language wasn't as hard as figuring out who I was directing my story toward.

Initially this was a journal. I keep journals on almost every journey I take, whether it's a single overnight camping trip just up the road, or a month in Nepal. Sometimes a good day hike or trip to the mall even warrants a journal entry. I have a lot of words, I guess.

After bending several people's ears nearly to breaking, (thanks guys!) I quit thinking I was writing this just for myself, just as a remembrance of a month of my life, and began thinking of it in terms of the people who might be affected by the story if they were to run across it. All you non-writers out there are wondering why that is such a big deal. I won't go into it, but believe me, it is a huge shift when you are writing words for your own psyche versus spelling things out for anyone else's. Huge paradigm shift.

So after mulling it over and getting plenty of support from people who really, honestly wanted to read it, I rewrote the purge. So now it is a better book, for you and for me.

So, What's it About?

2011-10-22T07:32:00.000-07:00

I spent the first 2 months that I was asked this question, trying like hell to answer it. It's hard to encapsulate, and that is part of the reason a whole entire manuscript was warranted. If I could tell it in a Facebook post, it probably wouldn't be too compelling of a story, now, would it. Here's my attempt to catch even those who don't know anything about it to get a glimpse.

I am a mom who lives in the suburbs of Seattle. I live a pretty normal life in that vein. I run a business, I run kids to soccer, I run to the mountains to photograph and write about them.

This is the part where the normal goes away. I ended up in Nepal, walking up the Everest Highway on a fund raising mission. I lived there for a month with a handful of Nepalis, and a few Americans. And they weren't normal. They were musicians and mountain climbers - extraordinary ones. And it wasn't a normal trek. Some pretty extraordinary things happened along the way.

So the month that I lived there changed my life. And I don't mean it in the ethereal, touchy-feely way (though that's true too). I mean that I learned some pretty ground breaking things that I never would have learned if I hadn't done it. When that happens I have to write it down. Have to. For fear that it is a dream and if I write it down, well, at least I'll be able to read about it later and pretend it was real, right?

So the book is my attempt at grabbing that dream by the tail and pulling it back toward me, and onto a page where it can be enjoyed, remembered and shared. Thanks to Elizabeth Gilbert and TED for that amazing description of the creative process.

The First Step on the Trail

2011-10-22T07:17:00.000-07:00

My book is in its final stages. The writing portion is complete, save a couple thorns at the end, but we'll get to those later. 220 pages of text have materialized after 7-ish months of driving my family mad. I have been on a mission of sorts, and it came to me in the form of this book.

So now I have a bunch of stuff left over and needed a place to put it. If you decide to follow this trail, you'll read some stories that didn't make it into the book, you'll find out things that it's hard to convey in 125 words on Facebook, and you may well get a window into a warped but determined mind. But since I have completed writing on the book, I needed a place for the overflow (you don't just shut a machine like that off with a switch) so the tailings will end up here until publication is complete.

Welcome to the final chapter.