The only difficulty with leaving San Francisco’s Internaltional Airport at 7am is that you arrive at Paris’ Charles de Gaulle airport at 6 OMG’clock in the morning. This might not be bad if you possess the primal recessive gene that allowed a cave man to sleep while a T-Rex trounced outside his cave; I am not, however, one of those fortunate few. I occassionally fall dead asleep in my plane seat while the plane is at the gate. I can even nod off while the plane taxis. But the second the plane leaves the runway, I’m awake. Bugger!
So, because you haven’t slept for the entire trip, you land in Paris feeling like the plane landed on you, rather than the opposite. Then comes the chaos of immigration. In the United States, thanks to the terrorists, you might have to surrender your passport, fingerprints, a photo, your blood type and possibly your first born — but at least it’s orderly. Neatly formed, civilized, lines. In Paris, Immigration Control is more like a rush hour multicar pile-up. There are people everywhere, all trying to get through the one lane left unscathed by the accident. After not sleeping, it feels like the toothpicks that had been holding your eyes open have been removed and your fellow travelers are now using them to stab you. Ahhhh, the City of Love. Bienvenue à Paris!
Judy and I were beat, there was no food in the terminal, and the taxi line was quite long…just standing….waiting….trying to avoid the toxic cloud of cigarette smoke created by the 10 people who needed an immediate fix after the long flight. We were already missing California, specifically, the laws that confine smoking to designated areas. Why do the French smoke so much? Don’t they know that each puff is deadly? I was certain that it didn’t improve the taste of wine.
Judy and I were finally assigned a taxi for the ride to our Paris home, the Seven Hotel. From the pictures on the web, it looked promising — a plushy kinda art-deco mod motif. (even though it sounds like it should be sandwiched between a Motel 6 and a Super 8). Since we had arrived at 8 in the morning, our room was not ready. It was summer in Paris—the city was jammed to capacity. Nevertheless, we checked in, left our luggage behind, and headed out into the Parisian morning.
Honestly, I can’t quite remember what we did, probably because my brain cells were noodles from the lack of sleep, but I’m sure it involved wandering aimlessly. Eventually, though, we ended up in the Latin Quarter at the back of the Pantheon.
Being a tourist landmark, the Pantheon also meant that food would be nearby. Starving, we meandered from restaurant to restaurant trying to make up our minds about where to eat. Up and down the street we searched for the right restaurant, then up and down again. We just couldn’t come to a decision. Strangely, we finally settled on a Bavarian restaurant. Normally, we’d have no trouble picking a decent place to eat, but at this moment we just couldn’t do it. Here, in of the capital of wine and cheese and bread to die for, we ended up nibbling strange peanuts and eating what Napoleon’s chef imagined the Kaiser’s food should taste like.
Well, even if we were exhausted and off our mental peak, at least we were in Paris together…
Click here for Episode 29: More Than Soul Mates
It was now the end of April. Our manuscript was finally in the hands of an editor, but the cost of achieving that milestone had been high… and painful. The relationship with our publisher was taking strain as we attempted to bridge the gaps in our different modes of business operation, we had lost 6 weeks and slipped our publishing date from Valentine’s Day to May, and after spending months trying to write to an invisible target, I was totally frazzled and completely burned out.
So, when the subject of Judy’s upcoming early-July birthday arose, there was really no question about needing time away. When I asked where she wanted to go, Judy said, “Well, how about Napa?” In turn I said, “How about Paris!” It seemed like the right thing to do—romantic, restful, great food and just the two of just in the City of Lights. It meant that we would be in Paris for the anniversary of our second “first” date, as well as the anniversary of beginning to write our book. Paris it was!
On the last day of June, we boarded a 7am San Francisco flight to Paris.
It felt great to just collapse into an airplane seat and snuggle up to Judy—no writing, no deadlines, no interruptions. It was like the entire pressure of our project was breathed out in a single moment. Ah, this is what it’s like to feel free again. We nibbled on snacks (and each other), watched movies on the iPad, and talked about what we hoped it would be like in Paris at night under the stars.
Without a direct flight, we had to stop at JFK. I know many people who are annoyed with having to stop, but Judy and I actually prefer to break up a long flight. I’m 6 feet, with fairly long legs. Judy is 5’ 9 and a half inches, with extremely long legs. For us, an airline seat might just as well be a medieval torture device that crushes knees and folds shins. Dividing a flight into two shorter segments works very well for our cramped extremities. Besides, on a previous trip we had discovered JFK’s Bobby Van’s Steakhouse–our mid-trip destination.
A faithful replication of the famous NY City Steakhouse, the JFK version offers true civility in an airport realm completely bereft of anything except MacDonald’s, frozen yogurt, and the ubiquitous convenience mart.
With two hours before the Paris flight, we settled into Bobby Van’s menu oh so easily: an excellent bottle of Napa Cabernet, succulent fried calamari, perfectly-cooked crisp green beans that snapped in our mouths, a delectable juicy burger for me, and a superbly seared medium-rare ribeye steak for Judy. Yes, this was the way to travel!
Half way through our meal I remembered that I had neglected to pay the power bill. Doh! Well, I guess this shouldn’t be a problem. I whipped out our iPad, logged into the power company’s website, made a new account and paid the bill–all whilst continuing to sip a robust, meat-seeking red wine. When technology works, it’s a beautiful thing…
With our legs stretched, tummies filled, and bill happily paid, we boarded the final leg to Paris….
Click here for Episode 28: The Only German Restaurant in Paris?!
We needed to get Heather up to speed quickly on the project, so a week after our first meeting, we hosted Heather at our home. On a slightly cool ocean summer day we sat in the backyard, discussed the book’s principles and laid out how we thought the book might be best executed. Fortunately for us, Heather already had some knowledge of our concepts–the different type of profoundly deep relationship that I had spent three years personally researching and refining. She was also an author, former publisher and ghostwriter. We felt certain that we had once again landed in the right place.
And it was a good thing. With just a little over 2 months left before the deadline, we were going to need all the firepower we could muster.
Our manuscript’s security also need to be addressed. Email was convenient, but messages are too easily forwarded to the wrong recipient–I did not want our intellectual property freely floating around the Internet. We needed a way to protect our manuscript even if it ended up in the wrong hands.
I decided that any emailed files were to be password encrypted—and the lock and key must be separated; therefore, the encryption password would be sent in a different email than the manuscript files.
Feeling that our universe was in order and secured, we sent Heather off with the latest copy of the manuscript. She said that it would take her some time to get the lay-of-the-land and return the first round of edits.
It was wait and see, but it didn’t feel like the Bookmuda Triangle. We had the feeling that great things were about to happen.
Click here for Episode 27: A Tasty Thing Happened on the Way to the Eiffel
The month of April 2011 had slipped through our fingers with no real progress and resulted in the publishing date of our book slipping from a market-perfect sweetspot of Valentine’s Day, 2012, to the ultra-romantic month of … May. Even with a three month shift in publications dates, the deadline to deliver the manuscript had only moved only four weeks. I chalked it up to a Bookmuda Triangle math anomaly.
Affairs between the Publishing King and his subjects were in tumult. Timelines, expectations, and business practices were misaligned; our project did not have an editor; and the King had signaled that he was unopposed to breaking relations.
The lone bright spot was that Steve had agreed to us using a local editor. Now we just needed to find one. After losing April and half of May, we weren’t in the mood to stand still.
In Santa Cruz, not more than 4 miles away from our house, we found Laura Davis hanging on a corkboard. Okay, it was a flier, not Laura herself. Laura was a well-known local writing teacher and author. Unfortunately, she was taking the summer off and was trying to divest herself of projects, not take them on, but she kindly supplied the name of an editor she had worked with in the past. Steve also supplied a couple of editors, including Heather Hummel, who lived in Carmel, about 40 minutes south of Santa Cruz.
As Steve had asked that the editor selection be a team decision, we set up interviews to speak with the candidates, but Steve was unavailable to join us. Instead, we received these instructions:
1. You want to find an editor who not only feels like a good match for you to work with but who also has a good feel for the material.
2. You should feel free to ask for a sample edit of 5 pages just to see how the editor is planning to work with the material. Make sure different editors work on the same 5 pages to see differences in their approaches.
3. Make sure that you establish clear communication plans, costs and schedules.
And with those golden nuggets of royal wisdom, we, who knew nothing of writing or publishing, had been knighted into the Mystical Order of the Editors Templar–empowered by the Sovereign to scourer Silicon Valley for the perfect, local editor, and, when we had found that editor, to perform the ancient Right of Selection, a hiring ritual bequeathed by Gutenberg himself.
Well, we still didn’t know much about hiring an editor, but at least the ball was in our court.
Unimpeded, we went to work. We contacted all the candidates, and within four days we had signed NDAs, sample edits and prices from each. We beamed all the submissions into the publishing universe, but the Bookmuda Triangle was in full effect—-we received no reply. It didn’t matter; after losing all those previous weeks, we weren’t waiting. Within 5 days of receiving all of the sample edits, we met with Carmel’s Heather Hummel and on the next day, Monday, June 13, we hired her.
Thus a perfect example of one of my mottos in action: Movement equals Success!
Silicon Valley moves quickly. Time is money. We are always looking for the next methodology or the new, bright-shiny tool that will accelerate a project or increase collaboration. E-mail, cell phone, texting, IM, video conferencing, desktop sharing, file sharing, mutitasking applications—the latest, the newest; and always, the faster, the better.
With just 20 weeks remaining to finish the manuscript, Judy and I approached delivering our book within this mental framework of speed. The problem was that the space-time continuum in our Silicon Valley universe didn’t align with the Old World. We soon discovered that timeline days on one planet equaled months on the other:
On April 5th, we sent a hard copy of our manuscript to Steve. I had been working at breakneck speed, night and day, attempting to tighten the manuscript. If Steve was going to expend effort in reviewing it, I didn’t want to waste his time on an outdated revision. Unfortunately, due to an error at the shipping center, the manuscript wasn’t sent overnight as we had requested. This caused a delay of four business days. In the Silicon Valley universe, four days is an eternity–an enormous, very serious delay.
On April 11th, the manuscript arrived at White Cloud. Steve wrote that they would be ‘diving into it’ that night.
On April 14th, White Cloud delayed, until Monday, a conference call we had set for the next day.
On April 17th, I sent along another five pages of the manuscript that I had been furiously editing, purposely aiming to create clearer, more even writing (whatever that was).
I was ready and raring to go. All I needed were Steve’s detailed instructions on how to proceed with writing the manuscript. With his guidance, I was certain I could deliver the book on time.
On April 18th, we had our conference call. I suggested the following action items for the meeting:
- Contract prerequisites
- Editing Team
- Ghost writer
- Manuscript editing process and security
- Expedited publishing timeline
As an opening conversation, the phone conference went fine. We agreed to work on the list of items and meet again soon.
On April 26th, we received the following message from Steve:
I am walking out the door heading for Berkeley for a meeting with our sales reps on Thursday. I’ll be back on Monday (May 2nd) and we can pick up our discussions then.
On May 2nd, we heard nothing. Four days later we received the following message from Steve:
Troy and Judy,
Hope this note finds you both well. We are getting back to normal following this week’s media blitz over our new Islam book in the wake of Osama bin Laden’s dramatic death. We got a nice big media bounce with that and our Amazon sales ranking has been climbing fast.
I do agree that working with a Santa Cruz editor will be good. It will be great if we approach that decision as a team. We will be getting back to you early next week with more detailed comments on the new draft of the book you sent us. Once we get real clear on the editorial issues, to make sure that everyone is comfortable with the chosen editor and the book’s direction, scope, tone, voices, etc. then we can nail down a publishing agreement.
We remain very keen to work with you.
Cheers,
Steve
Wait a second…Hadn’t they received our manuscript almost a month ago?! What happened to “diving into it tonight?” I had spent the last four weeks killing myself, blindly trying to write to an undefined, mysterious target. Are you telling me that there still isn’t any feedback?
The disparity in business practices between the New and Old Worlds hit us hard and left us spinning. Where on the planet did they live? The Bookmuda Triangle? It was inconceivable to us how any business could survive in an atmosphere where, “I’ll dive into it tonight” means “it might emerge from the void sometime next month.”
Still feeling like the lowly subject beseeching the King, I sent this note the same day:
Although we are obviously very loosely organized at this point, we consider this a team and have since our initial decision. If we’re honest, we’ve been awaiting input. We are very aware that WC has limited resources and thus have adjusted our expectations. Hopefully you both realize, too, that we do not move and respond quickly because we are eager authors, rather that is the way we operate in the Silicon Valley. We communicate and collaborate in *seconds* – IM, voice, video conferencing, desktop sharing, collative documents. The difference in our operating modes is a mild source of frustration…
It would be great to have some direction. I’m feeling very compressed in the timeline. Also, again to be honest, attempting to continue to edit without a target has left me pretty badly burned-out in the solitary struggle to find something that works. We *can* do this as a team, and I need your sage guidance and assistance.
From my perspective as the leader of this venture, we haven’t made any substantial progress in the 6 weeks since this portion of the team was formed. With less than 16 weeks to go in the timeline before the manuscript needs to be available for the 5 month publishing process, 6 weeks is a significant amount of time to be standing still. If we are to approach decisions as a team, then we all must execute and deliver; otherwise, I must make other decisions on the team’s behalf.”
A week later, May 12th, I received this reply:
…but the other aspect of our delay is that we are seriously grappling with this book and we still have some real concerns about the writing. Our biggest concern is that we think the book needs major recasting and rewriting to become clearer and more direct. I don’t think this can be done in a matter of weeks but that it will take several months. We think that the Valentine’s Day launch is not the way to go. That the book has too much potential not to take the time to do it right.
And to be absolutely honest, Stephen and I have some concern about us being the right press for you. We do wonder if it is in YOUR best interest to work with us vs. another press with more of a history in the field of relationships. I think if you did go with another house they would tell you the same thing I am saying, that the book has potential but is not ready for prime time.
So, what I can say is that we if you feel comfortable working with us with our limitations and on a slower pace, aiming for a book launch later summer or fall 2012, then let’s move forward. We don’t want to hold you back but we also don’t want to let you down by not being able to move at the lightning pace you are hoping for.
And thus with a snap of fingers–the sound echoing into a vacuum of nothingness–an entire month evaporated. We still did not have an editor or direction to even know how to source one. As Steve suggested, finding a different publisher might be possible, but there was also a slim chance it might never happen. It felt difficult to step forward, impossible to go backwards…
Judy and I weren’t worried that White Cloud would pull out. Everyone knew we had a hit. Besides, even with the differences between two universes, Steve and Stephen were good, honest, forthright guys. Yes, we were frustrated, but we still really liked them. Too, maybe for the first time in history, a Silicon Valley startup was attempting to mesh with the publishing world—deep, uncharted space. We likely confounded them as much as they did us.
In retrospect, the “recasting and rewriting” comment was the extent of the “detailed feedback” that we would receive on our manuscript. Regardless, we had to press forward, having learned our first very sobering lesson about publishing: In the publishing world, the author, to a very large degree, is on his own.
The publishing world was about to learn something too: How quickly the disciples of Silicon Valley adapt.
Click here for Episode 25: The Mystical Order of the Editors Templar
Wikipedia defines Stealth Mode as:
…a company’s temporary state of secretiveness, usually undertaken in order to avoid alerting competitors to a pending product launch or other business initiative.
After landing a publisher in just 15 minutes and discovering our project was a hit, I put the kibash on any further dissemination of, well, anything. Concepts surrounding the book, business plans, timelines—it all went into blackout. We entered stealth mode. Non-disclosure agreements (NDAs) were the first order of business. Our new friends at White Cloud, and even Stefanie (the team’s expert therapist) signed NDAs—all were bound to silence upon pain of death.
I was serious about it, too. Throughout my life, I had repeatedly witnessed the phenomenon of companies coming up with the same idea I did. My thoughts would typically precede theirs by two to five years…but, invariably, someone else would eventually mimic my thoughts. What is it they say? “Great minds think alike.” When it’s time for an idea to surface, it often surfaces in more than one place at a time. And, as I wrote earlier, nefarious forces are always gathering against you. There are always people out there ready to run with your ideas. Our project needed to be three things, fast, silent, and first–lest the competition scoop us.
Our meeting with Steve took place in the beginning of April, which left us, if my calculations were correct, 20 weeks to complete our manuscript to make our planned Valentine’s Day 2012 launch. 20 weeks! Jeez, I had already been writing for nine months. 20 weeks would come and go in the blink of an eye.
My mind spun at warp 9 with the list of items about which I was completely ignorant. Book covers, printing, contracts, reviews, editing. Added to that mind-numbing list was Steve’s feedback. Uneven writing. Lacks description. Unclear message. Inconsistent voice. What the hell is a voice? Get an editor. Yeah…that makes sense…clearly the first step. I needed to find a local editor. But, I didn’t have a clue how to accomplish that task either. I needed Steve’s help…desperately. Forget 20 weeks. If I didn’t get a burning bush from on-high soon, I’d wander the desert for 40 years.
So, I did the only thing I could do under the circumstances. I went into a writing frenzy.
I chopped like a hairdresser on meth. The manuscript soon resembled the floor around a barber’s chair—chunks here, strands there. Still not having a clear target, I attempted to tighten the content as much as my feeble skills permitted. Every day entire sections moved, new bits were written, and everything between was madly edited. This wasn’t a novel, so I couldn’t stream-of-conscious-it-from-beginning-to-end. It was a combined reference and how-to; the flow of the material wasn’t obvious.
There was one thing that was obvious. Our original concept of writing the book from three voices was not going to work. Even though it would have been great to have the viewpoint of the unbridled romantic (me), the converted skeptic (Judy), and the provoked thinker (Stef), it was just too complicated for us to execute. I have would have to write the entire book from my viewpoint with Judy and Stef providing input as to the content as I created it.
20 weeks…
How in the heck were we going to pull this off?
Judy and I have always had ‘first luck’—the first thing that comes along is almost always the right selection.
Just after our return from Mendocino, Judy and I crafted an email to Steve informing him that we had selected White Cloud to publish our book.
Steve was excited to receive the news, but replied with a bit of a sobering message:
“…however, I do feel that the book is not ready and that there is a fair amount of work to be done to get it ready. To be totally up front with you guys, the book is not clear in its message and the writing is uneven. There are some great moments but there is too much writing that just is not ready for prime time. For example, you tend to assume that people have more knowledge about all sorts of things, from online dating to psychology. One of the things you tell people as an important thing they need to do is to know themselves and to be clear about who they are. Now, major spiritual, psychological, and philosophical tomes have been written on this topic, and though you are not expected to recapitulate all that wisdom down through the ages, you are going to need to some tips or guidelines on how they might go about it, etc.”
Steve’s message wasn’t a total surprise to us; we had known that the manuscript wasn’t ready for the Publishing King to read when he asked for it at our first meeting. We knew it required work–a lot of work. What we needed was help improving it. Although Steve’s message might have been enough direction for an experienced writer, for me it was like receiving an address without a map. I was lost. I needed detailed directions to the destination.
Steve suggested an editor/ghostwriter in Hawaii whom he had worked in the past. My instincts told me that a far-flung collaboration would be less than optimal. Our material was new, unique, and unconventional. It redefined the last 50 years of thought surrounding relationships. Face-to-face interaction had always been necessary in order for us to effectively transfer the core of our theories and methods. Even though Steve was predisposed to using editors White Cloud had successfully worked with in the past, I knew a long-distance collaboration would make for hard work.
Still, I was loath to argue with the King. He knew everything…had vast experience. I was nothing more than a scribbling hack — a novice author-supplicant petitioning the all-powerful, all-knowing Sovereign. At least that’s what it felt like to me. Who was I to tell Steve that his years of experience didn’t apply to our project?
But I had to. There was one thing I knew in my bones. I needed proximity; a partner I could see and sit down with over the manuscript. I needed a hands-on, face-to-face editor.
The first round of arm wrestling between the Old World and New World had begun…
Judy and I decided that the peace and quiet of Mendocino would help us divine the best direction for our project. It was our second time heading out to the Howard Creek Ranch, so we knew just what to pack—and pack we did. Our hatchback was jammed to the gills: barb-q grill, boom box, a huge cooler filled with our favorite foods, candles, clothes (not that we would need any), iPads, computers. It felt like we had everything and the kitchen sink.
It was windier this time when we arrived at our little oceanside love shack. But that didn’t stop us from dancing to music, walking down the beach, cooking steaks outside and savoring candlelight dinners next to the ever-toasty wood-burning stove.
Between our long-lingering kisses, we tossed around ideas about how to proceed, weighing pros and cons as we strategized how we might best bring our big idea to the world. Large publisher versus small. Time to market. Timelines for publishing. Editing…marketing…publicity….budget. There were a million things to consider.
The Chinese philosopher Lao Tzu wrote, “The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.” That ancient philosophy had been reinterpreted for me time and time again as I cut my teeth in Silicon Valley start-ups. The modern incarnation is do something and correct as you go. Even imperfect decisions bring the goal closer.
Whether it’s the proverbial first step of the journey, or the concept of constantly moving forward, my mantra is the same: Movement equals Success.
That weekend in Mendocino, between the kisses and the barbeque, walks on the beach and flapjacks from Sally’s 100 year-old stove, Judy and I decided to put our project in the hands of Steve and Stephen at White Cloud. As first timers, we needed help in every way and the overarching thought was that they would deliver. Besides, we really liked Steve. He seemed honest, trustworthy, and there was a good connection on a personal level.
These characteristics would become key selection criteria for bringing future members to our team and make a founding principle for our enterprise.
On a day in late November 1972, Nolan Bushnell and his partner, Ted Dabney, installed a prototype video game in Andy Capp’s Tavern in Sunnyvale, CA—a location that was surrounded by cherry orchards at the time, and is smack dead in the heart of Silicon Valley. In a makeshift console with the coin box from a kiddie ride, the pair placed the game atop a wine barrel, then sat back and watched. A few of the braver patrons took their chances at playing the game, intrigued by Bushnell’s new-fangled invention. After a few drinks, with the game operating well, the pair departed with the feeling that their test system was off to a good start.
Two weeks later, the bar owner called to say that the machine was broken. It had also garnered quite a following. People actually lined up at the door before opening just to play it. The bar owner suggested that they might want to repair it quickly.
When the repairman arrived to diagnose the failure, he opened the system to give himself a free game…and was caught in a flood of quarters. The game had broken because the coin box had filled to overflowing.
Nolan Bushnell knew immediately that he had a hot property on his hands. PONG was a hit…
And now, with the avid interest of the publishing seminar attendees on our project and White Cloud’s response to our book proposal, Judy and I suddenly knew what Nolan Bushnell must have felt like. We knew we had a hit. All we had to do is not screw it up.
The problem was what to do next. We needed to figure out the best way to move forward–how not to screw up. Should we send the manuscript to other larger “big name” publishers? A publishing house like Random House, HarperCollins, or Simon & Schuster would be able to provide clout…and contacts. But they also had what I call a “spray and pray” business model. These ginormous publishing companies spit out a thousand books a year. All they need is a small number of runaway hits to ensure the ink on the balance sheet is the winning color. As a result, the giant publishing companies offer little or no help to the author, and we were certainly going to need sage assistance to be successful. We also knew that submitting our manuscript to other publishers would delay the project. Silicon Valley projects abhor delay—nefarious forces always gather against you. Most large publishing houses take months before they will even read your proposal. Although we were certain that we could garner the interest of a larger publisher, there were drawbacks.
White Cloud represented a fantastic opportunity to shave many, many months off the project’s timeline. Since they only publish about 10 books a year, and were still in business, we knew that each of their manuscripts had to be carefully selected. In essence, they had a track record of picking and crafting profitable books. If we selected WC, we also felt sure we would receive the help we needed to make the book fulfill its promise. Steve, and his partner Stephen Sendar, even suggested that they would be prepared to write a publishing contract that would be structured more like a film deal than the standard publishing contract—meaning a greater percentage in royalties for our side of the ledger.
It was a huge decision. We needed to get out of town to clear our heads…
Click here for Episode 21: Which way to turn?
Click here to start with Episode 19, Part 1: The King and I
Finding a publisher to publish a book is synonymous to finding a venture capitalist to fund a startup. VCs see a tsunami of ideas and business plans; publishers are up to their armpits in book proposals and manuscripts. Everyone has the next bazillion dollar Facebook site or Harry Potter book. In both worlds, people queue up for their chance to pitch their ideas–all but a rare few leave empty-handed. The shark-like VC dispatches his prey up close and personal: teeth-to-face in an air-filled, aquarium-glass conference room. Publishers, more like monolithic government bureaucracies, rebuff their suitors via correspondence—the ominously foreboding rejection letter. Just ask Tim Westergren (Pandora) about being turned-down by 300 VCs, or Jack Canfield (successful author of over 200 books) about being rejected by 140 publishers. They would both likely agree that landing a first VC or publisher is next to impossible.
Judy arrived home from her business trip just hours after the publishing seminar had finished. I filled her in on the amazing alignment between our project and the list of essentials Steve had ascribed to making successful books.
One of the items Steve supplied was an outline for a book proposal. The next morning Judy and I awoke and slapped our proposal together. Because we already had a project plan, the resultant document was half book proposal, half abbreviated business plan. And so we printed off a copy. With the ink still wet, we hurried off to the meeting.
The Publishing King was holding court at a local bookstore cafe. I guess a bookstore is a fitting throne-room if your supplicants are all writers. Surrounded by books on their shelves, his faithful subjects reading, and the smell of rather pedestrian coffee, Steve was just ending his previous appointment as Judy and I walked up to his table.
I introduced Judy to Steve and we sat down to hopefully learn the secrets that would eventually propel our little book into stardom. Before he spoke to us, Steve wanted to first take a look at our proposal. As he read, a large smile grew on his face. I took that as a good sign. Then he asked us to speak about the project. I spoke for maybe 8 minutes, Judy for another 4 or 5.
After Judy finished, Steve looked at us and said, “I’m not going to bullshit you. I want to work with you on this project.”
Holy crap! Had I just heard what I thought I heard!? Did the King just utter that he wanted to publish our manuscript? Monks, by candlelight and quill, were actually going to copy our words so that everyone might have a chance to read them? I thought we were coming here to gain some sage insight on where the project stood, and how we might increase our chances, not to find a publisher! You could have knocked me over with a feather.
Where it took Tim Westergren and Jack Canfield forever to hear those words, it took us a grand sum total of 15 minutes.
If it all went well, Steve said, we could be ready to launch our book by the next Valentine’s Day. We just needed a contract and an acceptable manuscript. I looked Steve right in the eye and said, “You know, we’re going to sell a million copies. What do you think are the chances of that?”
After he had spent the entire previous day saying that no one sells a million copies, he looked back, shook his head, and said, “I can’t believe I’m saying this. But I think you have a 50/50 chance.” Um…wow! A couple of days later, we received an email from Steve telling us that his business partner, Stephen Sendar, had read our proposal and said, without prompting, “This is a million book concept.”
Steve left with a copy of our book proposal and manuscript. I felt badly giving him the manuscript. I knew it was in no shape for anyone to read, especially the King.
Still, I left the meeting floating on a cloud of euphoria. Judy, who has always had amazing luck, departed saying, “I knew that would happen.”
It was pretty darned exciting.
And it was also the beginning of a gargantuan clash between the Old World business of Gutenberg and the New World Silicon Valley.
But for this moment, life was, once again, perfect.
The Death of Online Dating 