Encouragement

Throughout the entire process of writing, rewriting, and editing my novel, Deadly Portfolio: A Killing in Hedge Funds, I wanted, above all else, for my book to be accepted as an artistic success. Now that it is in print, I am thrilled with the reviews. They have been over the top, and I want to translate them into sales. Finding myself less than two months away from my 72nd birthday, I realize that the Internet is my best vehicle for promoting my work. I am still on the steeper slope of the learning curve. I want to get my book in front of others without sacrificing the other leisures of my retirement--which brings me to my point.

I am disheartened to discover that so many know so little about the fine art of offering encouragement. I find, for example, much of what others offer as a verbal pat on the back, however well-intended, to be nothing more than a discount. Consdier the following:

"But you have written a book. So many others just talk about it and never do write one."

"But you are in your seventies. Don't realize what an achievement it is to write a book at your age."

"Isn't it enough to know that your family and friends appreciate your work."

The psychologist have a term for this kind of a response. They call it "reframing." When my issue is trying to find time to promote my book, I don't care that others haven't even written one yet. When my issue is learning better ways to use the Internet, I am not complaining about my age. My intellectural stamina is a good as it ever was. Gerontologists tell us that creativity is one mental faculty that does not diminish with age. So talk to me as if I were young--say 45 or 50. Or better yet, forget my age altogether (even though I needed to bring it up to make my point). And, no, once and for all, it is not enough that my family members and friends appreciate my work. They love me. The book could be total bore, and they would praise it.

Don't minimize my concerns by suggesting that the lowest possible threshold of achievement should be sufficient to satisfy my aspirations.

I want people to read and enjoy my book. I want them to talk about it. I want them to feel perhaps, even in a small way, that their lives have been changed because of it, or that they have acquired an insight that will be helpful to them. I want readers. That is what motivates me to promote my book. I don't need the money. I probably spent less on my book than most retired guys spend on golf in one year. I am not rich, and after half a century of working for a living, I embrace and celebrate my modest lifestyle because I have so little at stake given the vissitudes of the American economy. Of course I prefer not to lose money, but making a lot of it is not among the top ten reasons as to why I write.

Above all else, please never, never use the bromide, "Hey, you're looking at the green side of the sod. How can you have a complaint?"  My concerns are a measure of my vitality. My frustration is a byproduct of my effort. Excuse me if I insist on a right to express either and expect a thoughtful response or none at all. When I do awake one morning on the other side of the sod, I want to know that somewhere in a eulogy it will be said, "Damn, he wrote a good book!" and everyone hearing it would nod enthusiastically and smile at one another.