I unofficially woke up much earlier than I’d intended, thanks to my mysterious smoke alarm that would start randomly beeping at thirty-second intervals for 5 minutes or so. Just when I’d fall asleep about 45 minutes later, it would start up again. I’d reported it three times, starting with last Friday morning.
A maintenance guy checked the battery and I thought the issue had been remedied, but a few days later, it started up again. I got up around 7:30 only because that was around the time I’d intended to get out of bed. I drearily gave the smoke alarm the finger as I dragged into the bathroom. Once I finished my business, I returned to the offending smoke alarm and pushed the test button as if I could miraculously fix it.
The real miracle occurred: I heard the alarm again, but not from the smoke detector that I was standing under. I entered my bedroom and to my surprise, a SECOND smoke alarm lie, flashing its red light. All I can say is that because I thought this tiny apartment only had one smoke detector, which was located in the hallway, I had not seen the one in my bedroom. I immediately took out the battery and felt a surge of energy that comes with being empowered over an annoying situation.
I preceded about my morning making breakfast, writing, painting and then waiting patiently for my friend to come over so we could hit the road to Houston to attend a “Getting Published” workshop.
Her good company made that 3-hour drive full of bad drivers bearable. We swapped war stories and discovered in many ways that we had had similar experiences although she’s more than ten years older than me, divorced with kids. It’s always a pleasure to find a kindred spirit, especially one who is far more spiritual than me.
As par for the course for me, I got a little turned around about ten minutes away from the destination, but I stopped at a gas station where, fortunately for us, I bumped into a mailman, who pointed me in the correct direction. We turned out to be one of the first of the thirteen participants to arrive.
We got situated and the 4-hourlong meeting started off with each of us introducing ourselves. I was delighted to have the opportunity to use my smartpen again. Thank goodness I had it, because there was so much information flying around the room, I could not have possibly caught it all. I discovered I was the only self-pub author in the room. (Rita, the facilitator, told us from here on out to refer to ourselves as “independently published authors,” but I’m not so sure if that’s just not swapping one stigmatized title for another. In which case, I’ll just stick to the original!)
During my intro, she asked me about how much money I’d spent on publishing my book. I told her around $3000. Then she asked if I got a ISBN through the company I’d published with or my own. I vaguely recalled getting one through the company. At that point she informed me that I’d made a $3000 mistake! Another woman, who represented one of the printers that Rita used, echoed that this is why it was important for new authors such as myself to attend workshops like this one.
I learned nearly two agonizing hours later that the reason indy authors want to purchase their own ISBNs is that there is a stigma associated with the “well-established” ISBNs that fall under the company I published with and some powerful people will not touch my book because they’ll recognize it.
I felt instantly relieved because I still see my $3000 investment as worth it. I have a sense of completion for that story and confident that I’m growing as a writer. Besides, I believe in the quality of my book. I just need to get motivated to promote it!
I was greatly disappointed that there were no healthy snacks available and anxiously looked for the conclusion of the workshop. Other participants started dropping off until only half of us remained. For one of the few times in my life, I actually heard and felt my stomach grumble.
I got a recommendation for a non-chain restaurant and was delighted that there was a huge steak place on our way out of town. We opted to eat at the bar in order to avoid the 45-min wait, which turned out to be an entertaining spot since the bartenders were fascinating to watch. Of course I had the inclination to flirt with one to get a free drink until I saw the security camera pointed directly at where all the drinks were made!
We both opted for a black Angus cheeseburger–I certainly was in no mood to shell out $30+ for a steak! And a much-needed glass of malbec was a sandalously-priced $12.50! I stuck to water, figuring I’d have a glass of wine at the birthday party I’d planned to attend once I returned to Austin.
The food was absolutely delicious and hit the spot. Again, I was happy to have such good company to curse at the other drivers on the highway and talk to in between.
I washed my face, put on my contacts, brushed my teeth, packed my wine paraphrenalia, including my impressive wine opener and headed for the birthday party, which was conveniently 5 min away.
I’d planned to stay about two hours or so, but hit my second wind and people started to arrive around that time. I got to talk with people I had not seen in a while. My only disappointment was that the designated DJ did not have any salsa on his laptop. Who does that? I would have figured that as a DJ, he would have made it his business to have a little bit of everything, especially here in Austin. I did manage to dance the bare minimum amount to justify going out to a party, but I still need to have a good salsa outing in the upcoming week.