I should probably write more on here about returning to America. That's the purpose of this blog, right?
Frankly, for the first eight months, I was in deep shock, so I couldn't really comment intelligently.
I do feel like I'm finally getting some distance.
I see signs of life: building my business actively, unpacking a few of those boxes from my shipment, making new friends.
So how do I like it here?
Interestingly, now that I'm going on more dates and meeting new people, this subject comes up a lot.
When people ask, I'm usually pretty honest. Sometimes, I feel like I should have nicer, more Pollyanna-ish things to say (especially on a date), but when I operate that way, I start to get really annoyed and want to strangle myself.
So I'm pretty honest. My answers to the 10 most common questions:
1. So. Are you happy to be back?
No.
2. What did you miss most about the US when you were away?
After the first two years away? Not much. Family and certain people.
3. What do you think about Fort Collins?
So small. So young. So ... white. I'm used to a city of 20 million people. What I'm used to doesn't even exist in the States. Though L.A. might be close.
4. Where do you see yourself in a few years?
I'd like to split my time between Asia and the US.
5. Do you want to move back to Asia for good?
Hell no. It's absolute torture coming back when you've been away a few years. I really don't want to go through this again.
6. If it's so great there, why'd you come back here?
Temporary insanity (just kidding). After six years, I was really looking forward to hanging out with family and old friends, and that's been great. I also thought it would be easier to execute a career change, but I think that part would have been just as easy (and less expensive) if I'd stayed in Asia.
7. Don't you like having good food again?
The food in Asia is better and cheaper. And it gets delivered to your door. And someone cooks it for you. And then someone does the dishes for you.
8. Don't you like having TV?
They have English TV in Asia. Which would be great if I ever watched TV.
9. Why don't you talk about it more?
If you've seen as many pairs of eyes glaze over in your life as I have ...
10. What's the best thing about being back here?
**sound of chirping crickets**
###
The question that rarely gets asked but that I actually like to answer is ...
So what do you miss most about Asia?
I could talk for hours. But see #9 on eyes glazing over.
###
So there it is. Status update at 10 months stateside. Maybe I'll answer all those questions in six months again and see what's changed.
Friday, April 15, 2011
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
I Survived Cold Calling -- And So Will You
So for folks in the copy/commercial writing biz (which is where I get the bulk of my income), cold calling (a.k.a. calling total strangers on the phone without an introduction) is considered one of the fastest ways to build your client list.
According to Peter Bowerman (author of "The Well-Fed Writer," an awesome book I highly recommend if you're trying to break into this area), making about 1,000 cold calls at start-up should have your business running along pretty smoothly.
One problem -- it's absolutely terrifying! Which is why despite knowing this, I've waited nine months to attempt it.
See the little ticker on the right? Did you notice how it's been at "0" since January? That's me being a cold-calling wimp.
After a busy first quarter, I finally ran out of work this week, so I bit the bullet and started my 25-a-day, two-month cold calling program.
And you know what? It wasn't all that terrible. It even had fun and interesting moments. And while we'll see what happens in the next few weeks, so far it seems like a great way to connect with people who hire freelancers -- fast.
I started out following the little "script" in the Well-Fed-Writer, but actually, after a few calls, I rewrote it so it was a bit less formal and better suited to my personality. That helped me relax a bit.
The first few calls were terrifying.
After five, I took a little break to calm down.
After ten, I was still freaking out a little.
Around twenty, it started to feel like I had been doing this my whole life.
My nerves were totally gone by twenty-five.
A few people said thanks but no thanks. Most were VERY nice. One was a little grumpy, but hey. I was often grumpy when I had a day job.
A few said they rarely hire copywriters, but to send something for the file.
A surprising number seemed quite enthusiastic and said to send over materials and follow up in a few days.
At least two acted like they had been sitting around all their lives waiting for a copywriter to call (highly gratifying, and kind of amusing considering they hadn't even seen my stuff yet).
No one yelled at me.
No one asked what the hell a copywriter is.
Though I tripped over my tongue a couple times, I didn't say anything too embarrassing.
So I have a ton of resumes, clips and links to send out tomorrow. It's a great feeling to have the first day over with (which I'm assuming is probably going to be the hardest by far).
It's only 4:00, but am having a delicious Dales Pale Ale now to reward self.
According to Peter Bowerman (author of "The Well-Fed Writer," an awesome book I highly recommend if you're trying to break into this area), making about 1,000 cold calls at start-up should have your business running along pretty smoothly.
One problem -- it's absolutely terrifying! Which is why despite knowing this, I've waited nine months to attempt it.
See the little ticker on the right? Did you notice how it's been at "0" since January? That's me being a cold-calling wimp.
After a busy first quarter, I finally ran out of work this week, so I bit the bullet and started my 25-a-day, two-month cold calling program.
And you know what? It wasn't all that terrible. It even had fun and interesting moments. And while we'll see what happens in the next few weeks, so far it seems like a great way to connect with people who hire freelancers -- fast.
I started out following the little "script" in the Well-Fed-Writer, but actually, after a few calls, I rewrote it so it was a bit less formal and better suited to my personality. That helped me relax a bit.
The first few calls were terrifying.
After five, I took a little break to calm down.
After ten, I was still freaking out a little.
Around twenty, it started to feel like I had been doing this my whole life.
My nerves were totally gone by twenty-five.
A few people said thanks but no thanks. Most were VERY nice. One was a little grumpy, but hey. I was often grumpy when I had a day job.
A few said they rarely hire copywriters, but to send something for the file.
A surprising number seemed quite enthusiastic and said to send over materials and follow up in a few days.
At least two acted like they had been sitting around all their lives waiting for a copywriter to call (highly gratifying, and kind of amusing considering they hadn't even seen my stuff yet).
No one yelled at me.
No one asked what the hell a copywriter is.
Though I tripped over my tongue a couple times, I didn't say anything too embarrassing.
So I have a ton of resumes, clips and links to send out tomorrow. It's a great feeling to have the first day over with (which I'm assuming is probably going to be the hardest by far).
It's only 4:00, but am having a delicious Dales Pale Ale now to reward self.
Thursday, March 31, 2011
Fukushima: Why I'm not filling my root cellar with iodine pills just yet
Well, today I went to the doctor and turns out I have a slightly enlarged thyroid.
What, you say it's residual radiation from Fukushima? Should I rush out and buy iodine?
Good grief, you too?
Uh, no. Besides the fact that I have a cold (which is making all the glands in my neck puffy), the Centers for Disease Control has explicitly warned about the dangers of taking iodine unnecessarily. So if you're getting those panic-mongering spammy emails trying to sell you iodine tabs, report them to the FTC before you delete them.
Since I haven't blogged for awhile (and since lack of PhD + relevant experience isn't stopping anyone else on the planet) thought I'd weigh in on the subject of radiation, and whether we should commence global freak out now, later or never.
To tackle this, I'll rely on my undergraduate geology major and my extensive research for a novel I'm going to write someday.
(As a side to the main action, one loopy character is horrifying her friends by writing an erotic romance novel about two doomed Chernobyl first-responders who decide to live it up before they start, er, disintegrating. Don't steal my idea.)
I probably wouldn't feel the need to go crazy blogging about this, but seriously, if I see one more fearmongering, 3-day-late Tweet from the Drudge Report, I might lose it.
Radioactivity detected in food!
Radioactivity detected in milk!
OMG, we broke the universe.
Nah. Before you start hoarding iodine in your Nebraska root cellar, consider:
#1 Everything is radioactive. Even you.
Yup, you, your pristine little self. In fact, you give your own self a radiation dose of about 0.39 millisieverts per year, just from the radioactive potassium swimming around your body.
Did you sleep next to anyone last night? If he/she was human, they're radioactive too. In fact, they exposed you to 0.0005 millisieverts of radiation (according to this handy chart compiled on the fly by a couple reactor researchers. Almost all the levels quoted below are directly from this chart).
While there's some anecdotal evidence that some of us are getting more radioactive than we used to be, we're talking very tiny amounts of the bad stuff. And statistically, in America we continue to live longer, despite having an increasing chemical load on our systems and one of the worst health care systems in the free world.
#2 Like an earthquake, radiation exposure increases exponentially. But there's a wide spectrum that can be tolerated by the human body.
Other things that are surprisingly radioactive:
Because 10,000 times "normal" for the person sleeping next to you or Colorado is about 5 millisieverts, still less than one chest CT scan.
Not that you want to get one of those every night of your life, but also not terrible when you consider that the maximum year dose for US radiation workers is 50 millisieverts and the smallest amount clearly linked to cancer/genetic damage is about 100 millisieverts/year.
#3 Over time, environmental radiation might kill you -- if you hang out at one of three places on earth.
If you hung out next to the Chernobyl reactor (encased in its ever crumbling sarcophagus thing) on an average day, you'd receive an average of 6 millisieverts per hour of radiation.
This would amount to a clear cancer risk in approximate 16 hours, and acute radiation sickness in about 3 days. You probably wouldn't die, but might experience nausea and vomiting immediately, followed by weakness and fatigue in about a month.
To receive a theoretical 100 percent fatal dose of radiation (6000 millisieverts), you'd have to camp out next to Chernobyl for almost three years, and because the dose is spaced over a long time period, you still might survive (though you'd probably be a fright).
Since it's my blog and I'll digress if I want to, Chernobyl could have been worse, but by any objective criteria, it was (and continues to be) a human disaster of epic proportions.
The damage caused by Chernobyl was exacerbated by Soviet secrecy. Many who volunteered or were ordered to help with the containment efforts were not informed of the true risks they faced. Local people were warned late or not at all of the disaster and its health effects. Their health was permanently damaged, their lifespans shortened.
For more info see two (disturbing) documentaries The Battle For Chernobyl and Chernobyl Heart.
Continuing our tour of the world's major radioactive zones, we head next to the Ural Mountains near Kyshtym, Russia. The area was the site of an early Soviet nuclear facility called Mayak (which still operates). Mayak's underground nuclear waste storage facility exploded in 1957, dispersing radioactive material over a vast region.
Though not much is known about the lingering effects of the Mayak disaster, it was eventually estimated to by an INES level 6 event. Roughly half a million people were exposed to radiation, but statistics on death and illness are limited. Soviet secrecy at work again.
Before the explosion, Mayak also dumped high-level radioactive waste into local rivers and used unwitting prisoners to cover over the dry lake bed where early waste had been dumped with sand.
Early clues to the Mayak disaster surfaced in the US when a defecting Russian scientist described driving across the Urals in the 70s. On the way, he saw signs that warned him to "STAY IN VEHICLE" and "DRIVE FAST."
Disaster zone number 3 would of course be the immediate vicinity of Fukushima Daiichi, where radiation levels as of March 17 were hovering around 3.6 millisieverts per day. Not the worst the world has ever seen, but tragic if you live there and may not be able to return.
At that rate, a human would receive a potentially cancer-causing dose in just over a day. And as of this writing, the situation appears to have potential to get worse.
#4 So when should we panic?
In the US, never. Chernobyl was closer, and had far more widespread effects, and it really didn't impact American health at all.
For perspective, those containment buildings that have been breached in Japan? Chernobyl didn't even have one. Also, those cores that are "partially melting?" Chernobyl's exploded, caught on fire, and spewed high into the atmosphere.
Freaking out with Tweets and headlines about iodine tablets and radioactive milk (when all milk is radioactive) is not only an irrational response, it trivializes the plight of people in Japan who in addition to other traumas may not be able to return to their homes because of the radiation danger. Not to mention people who are sacrificing their health and their future at the Fukushima plant to keep the situation from getting worse.
If given objective numbers from reliable sources, you can calculate that you in the US are receiving more than 50 millisieverts of Fukushima radiation a year (half the dose proved to cause cancer), I'll go on 56 dates with your skeezy cousin Fred.
Until then Fred better find a hobby.
What, you say it's residual radiation from Fukushima? Should I rush out and buy iodine?
Good grief, you too?
Uh, no. Besides the fact that I have a cold (which is making all the glands in my neck puffy), the Centers for Disease Control has explicitly warned about the dangers of taking iodine unnecessarily. So if you're getting those panic-mongering spammy emails trying to sell you iodine tabs, report them to the FTC before you delete them.
Since I haven't blogged for awhile (and since lack of PhD + relevant experience isn't stopping anyone else on the planet) thought I'd weigh in on the subject of radiation, and whether we should commence global freak out now, later or never.
To tackle this, I'll rely on my undergraduate geology major and my extensive research for a novel I'm going to write someday.
(As a side to the main action, one loopy character is horrifying her friends by writing an erotic romance novel about two doomed Chernobyl first-responders who decide to live it up before they start, er, disintegrating. Don't steal my idea.)
I probably wouldn't feel the need to go crazy blogging about this, but seriously, if I see one more fearmongering, 3-day-late Tweet from the Drudge Report, I might lose it.
Radioactivity detected in food!
Radioactivity detected in milk!
OMG, we broke the universe.
Nah. Before you start hoarding iodine in your Nebraska root cellar, consider:
#1 Everything is radioactive. Even you.
Yup, you, your pristine little self. In fact, you give your own self a radiation dose of about 0.39 millisieverts per year, just from the radioactive potassium swimming around your body.
Did you sleep next to anyone last night? If he/she was human, they're radioactive too. In fact, they exposed you to 0.0005 millisieverts of radiation (according to this handy chart compiled on the fly by a couple reactor researchers. Almost all the levels quoted below are directly from this chart).
While there's some anecdotal evidence that some of us are getting more radioactive than we used to be, we're talking very tiny amounts of the bad stuff. And statistically, in America we continue to live longer, despite having an increasing chemical load on our systems and one of the worst health care systems in the free world.
#2 Like an earthquake, radiation exposure increases exponentially. But there's a wide spectrum that can be tolerated by the human body.
Other things that are surprisingly radioactive:
- Eating a banana (0.001 millisieverts)
- Hanging around a more-radioactive-than-normal area like the Colorado Plateau for 1 day (.0012 millisieverts). Hey that may sound small, but over the course of a year, it adds up to a whopping 0.44 millisieverts. Still, we're not exactly glowing in the dark here.
- Flying from NYC to LA (0.04 millisieverts). Preliminary studies of flight crews have failed to isolate an increased cancer risk.
- Living in a stone house (0.08 millisieverts/year)
- Maximum external dose from 3-Mile Island (1 millisievert)
- Mammogram (3 millisieverts)
- Average yearly background dose (3.65 millisieverts, including medical procedures)
- Chest CT Scan (5.8 millisieverts)
Because 10,000 times "normal" for the person sleeping next to you or Colorado is about 5 millisieverts, still less than one chest CT scan.
Not that you want to get one of those every night of your life, but also not terrible when you consider that the maximum year dose for US radiation workers is 50 millisieverts and the smallest amount clearly linked to cancer/genetic damage is about 100 millisieverts/year.
#3 Over time, environmental radiation might kill you -- if you hang out at one of three places on earth.
If you hung out next to the Chernobyl reactor (encased in its ever crumbling sarcophagus thing) on an average day, you'd receive an average of 6 millisieverts per hour of radiation.
This would amount to a clear cancer risk in approximate 16 hours, and acute radiation sickness in about 3 days. You probably wouldn't die, but might experience nausea and vomiting immediately, followed by weakness and fatigue in about a month.
To receive a theoretical 100 percent fatal dose of radiation (6000 millisieverts), you'd have to camp out next to Chernobyl for almost three years, and because the dose is spaced over a long time period, you still might survive (though you'd probably be a fright).
Since it's my blog and I'll digress if I want to, Chernobyl could have been worse, but by any objective criteria, it was (and continues to be) a human disaster of epic proportions.
The damage caused by Chernobyl was exacerbated by Soviet secrecy. Many who volunteered or were ordered to help with the containment efforts were not informed of the true risks they faced. Local people were warned late or not at all of the disaster and its health effects. Their health was permanently damaged, their lifespans shortened.
For more info see two (disturbing) documentaries The Battle For Chernobyl and Chernobyl Heart.
Continuing our tour of the world's major radioactive zones, we head next to the Ural Mountains near Kyshtym, Russia. The area was the site of an early Soviet nuclear facility called Mayak (which still operates). Mayak's underground nuclear waste storage facility exploded in 1957, dispersing radioactive material over a vast region.
Though not much is known about the lingering effects of the Mayak disaster, it was eventually estimated to by an INES level 6 event. Roughly half a million people were exposed to radiation, but statistics on death and illness are limited. Soviet secrecy at work again.
Before the explosion, Mayak also dumped high-level radioactive waste into local rivers and used unwitting prisoners to cover over the dry lake bed where early waste had been dumped with sand.
Early clues to the Mayak disaster surfaced in the US when a defecting Russian scientist described driving across the Urals in the 70s. On the way, he saw signs that warned him to "STAY IN VEHICLE" and "DRIVE FAST."
Disaster zone number 3 would of course be the immediate vicinity of Fukushima Daiichi, where radiation levels as of March 17 were hovering around 3.6 millisieverts per day. Not the worst the world has ever seen, but tragic if you live there and may not be able to return.
At that rate, a human would receive a potentially cancer-causing dose in just over a day. And as of this writing, the situation appears to have potential to get worse.
#4 So when should we panic?
In the US, never. Chernobyl was closer, and had far more widespread effects, and it really didn't impact American health at all.
For perspective, those containment buildings that have been breached in Japan? Chernobyl didn't even have one. Also, those cores that are "partially melting?" Chernobyl's exploded, caught on fire, and spewed high into the atmosphere.
Freaking out with Tweets and headlines about iodine tablets and radioactive milk (when all milk is radioactive) is not only an irrational response, it trivializes the plight of people in Japan who in addition to other traumas may not be able to return to their homes because of the radiation danger. Not to mention people who are sacrificing their health and their future at the Fukushima plant to keep the situation from getting worse.
If given objective numbers from reliable sources, you can calculate that you in the US are receiving more than 50 millisieverts of Fukushima radiation a year (half the dose proved to cause cancer), I'll go on 56 dates with your skeezy cousin Fred.
Until then Fred better find a hobby.
Saturday, March 19, 2011
When You're Too Tired to Run, Pretend There's a Tsunami Behind You!
So just finished the Canyonlands Half Marathon (13.1 miles) and feeling pretty good! Jen's off hiking, and I'm sitting in the hotel room drinking my victory beer.
So how was the run? I wouldn't call any half-marathon I've done fun (especially the last third), but this one was relatively painless as they go. My big injury was some chafing on my cleavage (I was carrying an emergency goo in my sports bra -- bad idea).
We were assured the very worst mile on the whole course would be Mile 9 -- huge, steep hill and all that. As you can read in the post below, 9 was the mile I dedicated Japan/Libya, so I decided that while I was running up the monster hill, I would pretend I was running from the tsunami -- and that I was chasing the 83 year-old grandma on her bike (see video for details).
I have been thinking about that Japanese lady a lot this week. Every time I watch the video above, it made me cry. This lady is such an inspiration to me. I should have given her her own a mile!
But when I got to killer hill (could see all he people going up), there was Coach Jen from TNT, and we just started talking, and suddenly she says, "Hey! Good Job! We're at the top!" And my response was something like, "Don't f### with me." (I know, not great language, but if you've ever run 13 miles, you'll understand).
And she says, no! It's a huge downhill from here. And just then, we started to hear this drumming -- there was a native American drum group way, way down at the bottom of the valley. So for the next mile, it was all downhill, and getting drummed along, which was a huge pick-me-up.
But then when we got into town, it was all uphill again, and I was getting a little tired. So I pretended I was chasing the tsunami lady, and then I pretended I *was* the tsunami lady. Because by that time, I was feeling about 80 years old. Or older!
So long story short, finished (about) 2:16:45 and that's 5 minutes off my previous personal best. Thanks again (I can't say it enough) to all who supported the run -- friends, family, donors, TNT team, Jen Nauck (who gave up half a day in Moab to cheer me on -- and brought me beer at the finish. This is Utah, so we had to hide behind the car and pour it into metal bottles. V. naughty =)
Thursday, March 17, 2011
Time to Run! And I've dedicated each mile to a hero of mine ...
So I can't believe the Canyonlands Half Marathon will be FINISHED in less than 48 hours! It's been such an adventure running in strange new places, running backwards in the freezing wind, doing speed workouts in the graveyard ... best of all, it's helped me reconnect with some wonderful people and meet some new ones through my wonderful and very dedicated TNT team!
So to keep me running during the race, I'm dedicating each mile to a hero of mine -- someone who has inspired me personally or supported me during this training season. It's also a trick I use to keep my butt moving, I wouldn't want to let any of you down by dropping out during your mile!
Mile 1 - To Jennifer Gessner, someone I haven't seen in person since high school who made the very first donation in honor of her friend Marti, who has been kicking lymphoma's ass for many years.
Mile 2 - To my aunt Patty Ryan Miller, who chased down donations from practically everyone she knew!
Mile 3 - To Kelly Kotary and Phil Haynes who donated generously to the cause even in the midst of starting their own businesses, remodeling a house and other financial craziness.
Mile 4 - To Valerie Keller, my patient, positive and encouraging roommate who has never complained that our house has been filled with stinky running clothes for four months straight.
Mile 5 - To the Hulses (Rob, Holly, Austin, Jason and Chelsea) who were hands down my biggest donors this season. They are an awesome family I met while working in Shanghai.
Mile 6 - Jen Nauck, my friend who will be accompanying me to Canyonlands on her birthday! Just having her watch is making the whole experience so much more gratifying.
Mile 7 - Kim Herzog, my friend in Cleveland whose grandma has lymphoma.
Mile 8 - My only Fort Collins teammate at Canyonlands, Donna McGovern. It's her first half marathon, and when she started training, she had just finished chemo for Hodgkin's Disease. She also just found out she's the biggest fundraiser in Colorado TNT this season.
Mile 9 - The people of Japan and Libya who are dealing courageously with respective disasters.
Mile 10 - To my TNT Fort Collins teammates, and especially to coach Jen, mentor Mary and team captains Johanna and Kristina who put so much time in for all of us.
Mile 11 - To our team heroes Kim and Annabel. Kim is a leukemia survivor who was diagnosed while pregnant with her daughter. They're both doing great!
Mile 12 - To my Dad, Greg Maurer, who is now walking on the treadmill at rehab doing his own brand of training. It probably feels like he's running a half-marathon some days.
Mile 13 - To my Mom, Kathie Maurer, who is a 10 year survivor of lymphoma in 2011 and inspires me every day. I was thinking of you on all those long, freezing, unbearable runs, mom! You just never quit, so I couldn't either.
I wish I had more miles to give away, because I could go on and on! So many people contributed and altogether we've raised about $2,500 for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society and donations are still coming in. Thanks to everyone who contributed. You'll all be with me out there running in the desert!
By the way, for all those who want to send their good vibes, the race starts at 10:00 a.m. US mountain standard time on Saturday, March 19. If you want to send extra vibes during your mile, I'm going at about at 10:15 - 10:30 pace.
Okay, I'm off to tattoo all your names on my arm (in Sharpie marker) so I can remember who's when!
So to keep me running during the race, I'm dedicating each mile to a hero of mine -- someone who has inspired me personally or supported me during this training season. It's also a trick I use to keep my butt moving, I wouldn't want to let any of you down by dropping out during your mile!
Mile 1 - To Jennifer Gessner, someone I haven't seen in person since high school who made the very first donation in honor of her friend Marti, who has been kicking lymphoma's ass for many years.
Mile 2 - To my aunt Patty Ryan Miller, who chased down donations from practically everyone she knew!
Mile 3 - To Kelly Kotary and Phil Haynes who donated generously to the cause even in the midst of starting their own businesses, remodeling a house and other financial craziness.
Mile 4 - To Valerie Keller, my patient, positive and encouraging roommate who has never complained that our house has been filled with stinky running clothes for four months straight.
Mile 5 - To the Hulses (Rob, Holly, Austin, Jason and Chelsea) who were hands down my biggest donors this season. They are an awesome family I met while working in Shanghai.
Mile 6 - Jen Nauck, my friend who will be accompanying me to Canyonlands on her birthday! Just having her watch is making the whole experience so much more gratifying.
Mile 7 - Kim Herzog, my friend in Cleveland whose grandma has lymphoma.
Mile 8 - My only Fort Collins teammate at Canyonlands, Donna McGovern. It's her first half marathon, and when she started training, she had just finished chemo for Hodgkin's Disease. She also just found out she's the biggest fundraiser in Colorado TNT this season.
Mile 9 - The people of Japan and Libya who are dealing courageously with respective disasters.
Mile 10 - To my TNT Fort Collins teammates, and especially to coach Jen, mentor Mary and team captains Johanna and Kristina who put so much time in for all of us.
Mile 11 - To our team heroes Kim and Annabel. Kim is a leukemia survivor who was diagnosed while pregnant with her daughter. They're both doing great!
Mile 12 - To my Dad, Greg Maurer, who is now walking on the treadmill at rehab doing his own brand of training. It probably feels like he's running a half-marathon some days.
Mile 13 - To my Mom, Kathie Maurer, who is a 10 year survivor of lymphoma in 2011 and inspires me every day. I was thinking of you on all those long, freezing, unbearable runs, mom! You just never quit, so I couldn't either.
I wish I had more miles to give away, because I could go on and on! So many people contributed and altogether we've raised about $2,500 for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society and donations are still coming in. Thanks to everyone who contributed. You'll all be with me out there running in the desert!
By the way, for all those who want to send their good vibes, the race starts at 10:00 a.m. US mountain standard time on Saturday, March 19. If you want to send extra vibes during your mile, I'm going at about at 10:15 - 10:30 pace.
Okay, I'm off to tattoo all your names on my arm (in Sharpie marker) so I can remember who's when!
Friday, March 4, 2011
Why I need a right-wing survivalist to write a book with!
Okay, so in response to all the hilarious and helpful comments from my latest Facebook post and hash listserve, here's why I'm seeking a right-wing coauthor who knows how to survive the apocalypse. (Interesting position to be in as a left-wing girl, believe me).
For friends interested in publishing their own books (I know you're out there!), this might be an eye-opener about the publishing industry as well. Certainly was for me.
NOTE: Most of the following applies to non-fiction publishing. Fiction is a different process.
Okay, so this all started when one of the freelance newsletters I subscribe to included a blurb from an agent seeking writers for some very specific non-fiction projects.
That surprised me -- I always thought the author seeks out the agent, not the other way around. At least with legit agents.
Turns it's pretty common for a publisher who wants to jump on the latest hot trend to turn to agents. The agent then finds an author with the expertise/voice/platform that fits the publisher's project.
In this case, the agent was looking for someone to write a survival skills book. Squee! Right up my alley.
I knew I was a long shot -- I've never published a book, and I didn't even have a national journo credit at the time, but I loved the idea. So sent her a brief e-mail, making my case and linking to my clips and blog.
I figured I'd never here back from her.
To my vast surprised, the agent asked me to put together a proposal package for a Big 6 publisher. This meant, among other things, researching all other survival books on the market (and a whole weekend at B&N).
Here are the current big sellers in the survival genre. Notice a trend?
* How to Survive the End of the World as We Know It (John Wesley)
* When All Hell Breaks Loose: Stuff You Need to Know to Survive When Disaster Strikes (Cody Lundin)
* Bug Out! The Complete Plan to Escaping Catastrophic Disaster Before it's too Late (Scott B. Williams)
Agent and I agreed there was a definite need in the market for a book that focused less on the apocalypse and showed people how to survive the everyday scenarios they saw on the news. We also saw a need for a serious survival book in a female voice, because the existing survival books by women tend to be a bit schoolmarmish in tone and approach.
That's how I spent three days of my Palm Springs vacation with my face buried in the laptop pounding out a book proposal (I'd never recommend doing this in three days, by the way).
Proposal went off, and then for a month, I didn't hear anything.
Here's a funny aside: right after I sent in the proposal for the survival skills book, I went camping with my friend Jen. Neither of us brought a lighter. Shh. Don't tell =)
Here's what happened to my proposal behind the scenes.
Editor at Big 6 Pub really liked it. Called it fresh, smart, original, well-written (all these words that made me very happy when I heard them secondhand).
Then he pitched it to the Big 6 editorial board for final approval.
As fate would have it, Borders had just filed for bankruptcy and the publishing world was in a bit of a panic.
So Big 6 bean counters and editorial board ultimately decided that rather than blaze into brave new territory in the survival genre, they wanted to buy another book that dealt with an collapse-of-the-dollar, anarchy-unleashed, end-of-the-world type scenario.
Because that's what was already selling.
Proposal got rejected. But all is not lost.
Regarding the original proposal, agent and I will try to repackage it and sub it to smaller pubs.
And we still haven't completely given up on landing the Big 6 project.
"What if you found a coauthor?" agent said. She suggested someone who was right-leaning, male, possibly ex-military, and had a bunker in their house (I can't remember the exact words she used, but it was hilarious).
I told her that living in Colorado, I was pretty sure I could find such a person living within a mile of me. Though I wasn't sure said person would want to write a book. But I resolved to try.
So that's where things stand now ... I've put out my SOS on Facebook, Twitter and every listserve I belong to. Here's a recap of suggestions so far ...
* Bear Grylls (On whom I would have a raging crush, and wouldn't mind spending months in collaboration with. Probably a bit too famous, but hmm)
* Ted Nugent (Bingo. This is pretty spot-on the kind of person I need. Wish I had stopped by his restaurant on my way through Arizona and introduced myself. Possibly too famous, though)
* Sarah Palin (Also not far off the mark. Though concerned Sarah and I would end up in a puddle of blood by the end. Also, way too famous)
* Aron Ralston (Would be awesome, but probably not pessimistic and scary enough. Also, an excellent writer in his own right)
Thanks to the people sent spot-on suggestions of folks we both know. I'm going to float the idea with a few of those guys later today (so far, they're all guys).
If you have more ideas for coauthors, please send them along! Or have them read this blog first and see what they think. To recap, here's the flavor I need:
* Solid survival skills expertise (military, special forces, extreme survival experience a huge plus)
* Somewhat pessimistic worldview (believes some sort of cataclysmic social meltdown is feasible, if not imminent)
* Right-leaning (Think the Glenn Beck show and all those ads for gold investments and food insurance)
* Aggressive approach (prepare now or face the consequences!)
* Existing following is a plus (an industry expert, blogger, etc. But probably not TOO famous)
* Doesn't need to be a writer - I'll handle most of the writing. But should be interested in helping promote the finished book.
* Has personality and color (be it funny, intense, mildly abrasive, etc.)
* Open to the idea of spending A LOT of time working together (no joke - it's going to take some heavy lifting)
* Very different from me. That's the real kicker that makes this mission impossible. I have a ton of friends who are probably more qualified than I am to write on this topic. Unfortunately, the person I need to find is probably not someone I would run into in my usual social circles.
If the project sells, coauthors split the advance and royalties. Not all the money in the world, but not terrible if you have fun doing it.
Thanks again for all your help. I'm off to SoldierOfFortune.com to troll for potential coauthors ...
For friends interested in publishing their own books (I know you're out there!), this might be an eye-opener about the publishing industry as well. Certainly was for me.
NOTE: Most of the following applies to non-fiction publishing. Fiction is a different process.
Okay, so this all started when one of the freelance newsletters I subscribe to included a blurb from an agent seeking writers for some very specific non-fiction projects.
That surprised me -- I always thought the author seeks out the agent, not the other way around. At least with legit agents.
Turns it's pretty common for a publisher who wants to jump on the latest hot trend to turn to agents. The agent then finds an author with the expertise/voice/platform that fits the publisher's project.
In this case, the agent was looking for someone to write a survival skills book. Squee! Right up my alley.
I knew I was a long shot -- I've never published a book, and I didn't even have a national journo credit at the time, but I loved the idea. So sent her a brief e-mail, making my case and linking to my clips and blog.
I figured I'd never here back from her.
To my vast surprised, the agent asked me to put together a proposal package for a Big 6 publisher. This meant, among other things, researching all other survival books on the market (and a whole weekend at B&N).
Here are the current big sellers in the survival genre. Notice a trend?
* How to Survive the End of the World as We Know It (John Wesley)
* When All Hell Breaks Loose: Stuff You Need to Know to Survive When Disaster Strikes (Cody Lundin)
* Bug Out! The Complete Plan to Escaping Catastrophic Disaster Before it's too Late (Scott B. Williams)
Agent and I agreed there was a definite need in the market for a book that focused less on the apocalypse and showed people how to survive the everyday scenarios they saw on the news. We also saw a need for a serious survival book in a female voice, because the existing survival books by women tend to be a bit schoolmarmish in tone and approach.
That's how I spent three days of my Palm Springs vacation with my face buried in the laptop pounding out a book proposal (I'd never recommend doing this in three days, by the way).
Proposal went off, and then for a month, I didn't hear anything.
Here's a funny aside: right after I sent in the proposal for the survival skills book, I went camping with my friend Jen. Neither of us brought a lighter. Shh. Don't tell =)
Here's what happened to my proposal behind the scenes.
Editor at Big 6 Pub really liked it. Called it fresh, smart, original, well-written (all these words that made me very happy when I heard them secondhand).
Then he pitched it to the Big 6 editorial board for final approval.
As fate would have it, Borders had just filed for bankruptcy and the publishing world was in a bit of a panic.
So Big 6 bean counters and editorial board ultimately decided that rather than blaze into brave new territory in the survival genre, they wanted to buy another book that dealt with an collapse-of-the-dollar, anarchy-unleashed, end-of-the-world type scenario.
Because that's what was already selling.
Proposal got rejected. But all is not lost.
Regarding the original proposal, agent and I will try to repackage it and sub it to smaller pubs.
And we still haven't completely given up on landing the Big 6 project.
"What if you found a coauthor?" agent said. She suggested someone who was right-leaning, male, possibly ex-military, and had a bunker in their house (I can't remember the exact words she used, but it was hilarious).
I told her that living in Colorado, I was pretty sure I could find such a person living within a mile of me. Though I wasn't sure said person would want to write a book. But I resolved to try.
So that's where things stand now ... I've put out my SOS on Facebook, Twitter and every listserve I belong to. Here's a recap of suggestions so far ...
* Bear Grylls (On whom I would have a raging crush, and wouldn't mind spending months in collaboration with. Probably a bit too famous, but hmm)
* Ted Nugent (Bingo. This is pretty spot-on the kind of person I need. Wish I had stopped by his restaurant on my way through Arizona and introduced myself. Possibly too famous, though)
* Sarah Palin (Also not far off the mark. Though concerned Sarah and I would end up in a puddle of blood by the end. Also, way too famous)
* Aron Ralston (Would be awesome, but probably not pessimistic and scary enough. Also, an excellent writer in his own right)
Thanks to the people sent spot-on suggestions of folks we both know. I'm going to float the idea with a few of those guys later today (so far, they're all guys).
If you have more ideas for coauthors, please send them along! Or have them read this blog first and see what they think. To recap, here's the flavor I need:
* Solid survival skills expertise (military, special forces, extreme survival experience a huge plus)
* Somewhat pessimistic worldview (believes some sort of cataclysmic social meltdown is feasible, if not imminent)
* Right-leaning (Think the Glenn Beck show and all those ads for gold investments and food insurance)
* Aggressive approach (prepare now or face the consequences!)
* Existing following is a plus (an industry expert, blogger, etc. But probably not TOO famous)
* Doesn't need to be a writer - I'll handle most of the writing. But should be interested in helping promote the finished book.
* Has personality and color (be it funny, intense, mildly abrasive, etc.)
* Open to the idea of spending A LOT of time working together (no joke - it's going to take some heavy lifting)
* Very different from me. That's the real kicker that makes this mission impossible. I have a ton of friends who are probably more qualified than I am to write on this topic. Unfortunately, the person I need to find is probably not someone I would run into in my usual social circles.
If the project sells, coauthors split the advance and royalties. Not all the money in the world, but not terrible if you have fun doing it.
Thanks again for all your help. I'm off to SoldierOfFortune.com to troll for potential coauthors ...
Friday, February 4, 2011
The double-edged sword of PMS
Okay, so just returned from two weeks of fun and adventure in Palm Springs with lots of stories to tell, but since I have raging PMS right now, I'm gonna write about that instead.
I've never been a PMS apologist who claims it doesn't exist and gives anyone crass enough to mention it the hairy eyeball. Frankly, I couldn't hide my PMS if I tried.
Anyone who knows me more than casually knows how my hormones can hijack me faster than a 747 over Libyan airspace.
Back in college (when Beavis and Butthead was all the rage), I used to pull my T-shirt over my head and chase my friend Rachel around our dorm shouting, "I am the great Hormonio!"
(Remember that Beavis? I call her Beavis. Still. She calls me Beavis too).
Anyhow, last night was kind of a typical PMS night for me. I was a cranky, bitchy wreck of a human being. Valerie, be glad you weren't home!
I went to Wal-Mart to get some groceries. I had just run a bunch of mile repeats and was STARVING! The only thing I wanted was Morning Star brand Buffalo Wings (my grown up PMS food).
When I got home, I realized that I had somehow left the bag with both my buff wings and my garden burgers at Wal-Mart. So being both PMSsy and also hangry, I proceeded to have a massive meltdown.
It didn't help that when I opened the back of the Honda (still crowded with all my unpacked vacation crap), my case of Pabst Blue Ribbon came sliding out and landed on my toes.
Then I saw a box of Jen's hand-blown glass bees ($80 a pop) teetering on the verge of crashing to the pavement. Fortunately I caught it before it fell, but it only made me even more strung out.
I began to tear the car apart in search of the missing wings and burgers. When I didn't find them, I swear to you, I started cursing inanimate objects. I was like, bleep you Honda! Bleep you garden burgers! Bleep you, Wal-Mart!
Fortunately, my next-door neighbor was in Wyoming, so he didn't call the cops. But that was a pretty typical PMS evening for me.
But you know what? PMS can cut both ways. And on vacation just a few days ago, it actually worked in my favor for once.
It happened when Jen and I went to the "Amazing Animal Show" (or similar ridiculous spectacle) at The Living Desert in California. The retired volunteers at the park assured us it was a must see.
I said to Jen, "The second an animal dances, I'm outta here."
She said, "Let's sit over there by the exit." We weren't so optimistic, see.
At the start of the show, the trainer held up her glove and out of nowhere, this beautiful great-horned owl came flapping over the audience and landed on her arm. There were lots of oohs and ahs.
"Ladies and gentlemen," said the trainer. "I'd like you to meet ... Boob-o."
At the mention of this name, some synapse in my brain misfired on apocalyptic scale. I looked at Jen and said, in my best Butthead voice, "His name is Boob ..." And then I was laughing about as hard as I've ever laughed in my life.
Laughing loudly and obnoxiously and doubling over in spasms and gasping for breath. Laughing so hard tears started pouring down my face. Laughing harder than I've ever laughed at anything that was actually funny.
"Oh god," I sobbed and laughed. "Do you have a Kleenex, Jen?"
All I could picture was the trainer stopping the show to scold me for my interruption. Which made me laugh even harder.
Or getting escorted out by security, or the medical team. Which was pretty funny too.
It took me about five minutes to compose myself. But throughout the show (in which I'm happy to say no animals danced), periodic snorts of obnoxious laughter erupted from my nose.
So what set me off? I'm 99 percent sure it was PMS. It was the same overwhelming tidal wave of emotion that hits me when I'm watching the news at that time of the month and suddenly I'm crying over a dog stuck in a cave or a kid giving his allowance to the homeless.
But for once, instead of irritability, the emotion was pure, unbridled mirth. Delight. Lightness. Joy. Because for a just a minute, that poor owl's name was the funniest thing in the multiverse.
I wish I had more months like that.
POSTSCRIPT:
Okay, I realize the owl's name was actually probably spelled Bubo (though Boob-o, complete with hyphen, was the spelling that popped into my head). So when I went home and googled Bubo, this was the first link I got:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bubo
Seriously, this poor owl can't win.
I've never been a PMS apologist who claims it doesn't exist and gives anyone crass enough to mention it the hairy eyeball. Frankly, I couldn't hide my PMS if I tried.
Anyone who knows me more than casually knows how my hormones can hijack me faster than a 747 over Libyan airspace.
Back in college (when Beavis and Butthead was all the rage), I used to pull my T-shirt over my head and chase my friend Rachel around our dorm shouting, "I am the great Hormonio!"
(Remember that Beavis? I call her Beavis. Still. She calls me Beavis too).
Anyhow, last night was kind of a typical PMS night for me. I was a cranky, bitchy wreck of a human being. Valerie, be glad you weren't home!
I went to Wal-Mart to get some groceries. I had just run a bunch of mile repeats and was STARVING! The only thing I wanted was Morning Star brand Buffalo Wings (my grown up PMS food).
When I got home, I realized that I had somehow left the bag with both my buff wings and my garden burgers at Wal-Mart. So being both PMSsy and also hangry, I proceeded to have a massive meltdown.
It didn't help that when I opened the back of the Honda (still crowded with all my unpacked vacation crap), my case of Pabst Blue Ribbon came sliding out and landed on my toes.
Then I saw a box of Jen's hand-blown glass bees ($80 a pop) teetering on the verge of crashing to the pavement. Fortunately I caught it before it fell, but it only made me even more strung out.
I began to tear the car apart in search of the missing wings and burgers. When I didn't find them, I swear to you, I started cursing inanimate objects. I was like, bleep you Honda! Bleep you garden burgers! Bleep you, Wal-Mart!
Fortunately, my next-door neighbor was in Wyoming, so he didn't call the cops. But that was a pretty typical PMS evening for me.
But you know what? PMS can cut both ways. And on vacation just a few days ago, it actually worked in my favor for once.
It happened when Jen and I went to the "Amazing Animal Show" (or similar ridiculous spectacle) at The Living Desert in California. The retired volunteers at the park assured us it was a must see.
I said to Jen, "The second an animal dances, I'm outta here."
She said, "Let's sit over there by the exit." We weren't so optimistic, see.
At the start of the show, the trainer held up her glove and out of nowhere, this beautiful great-horned owl came flapping over the audience and landed on her arm. There were lots of oohs and ahs.
"Ladies and gentlemen," said the trainer. "I'd like you to meet ... Boob-o."
At the mention of this name, some synapse in my brain misfired on apocalyptic scale. I looked at Jen and said, in my best Butthead voice, "His name is Boob ..." And then I was laughing about as hard as I've ever laughed in my life.
Laughing loudly and obnoxiously and doubling over in spasms and gasping for breath. Laughing so hard tears started pouring down my face. Laughing harder than I've ever laughed at anything that was actually funny.
"Oh god," I sobbed and laughed. "Do you have a Kleenex, Jen?"
All I could picture was the trainer stopping the show to scold me for my interruption. Which made me laugh even harder.
Or getting escorted out by security, or the medical team. Which was pretty funny too.
It took me about five minutes to compose myself. But throughout the show (in which I'm happy to say no animals danced), periodic snorts of obnoxious laughter erupted from my nose.
So what set me off? I'm 99 percent sure it was PMS. It was the same overwhelming tidal wave of emotion that hits me when I'm watching the news at that time of the month and suddenly I'm crying over a dog stuck in a cave or a kid giving his allowance to the homeless.
But for once, instead of irritability, the emotion was pure, unbridled mirth. Delight. Lightness. Joy. Because for a just a minute, that poor owl's name was the funniest thing in the multiverse.
I wish I had more months like that.
POSTSCRIPT:
Okay, I realize the owl's name was actually probably spelled Bubo (though Boob-o, complete with hyphen, was the spelling that popped into my head). So when I went home and googled Bubo, this was the first link I got:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bubo
Seriously, this poor owl can't win.
Friday, January 21, 2011
Show me love, darling. Join this blog!
So I've got an exciting new opportunity in the works -- today I talked to a literary agent about writing an non-fiction book! Can't say too much at this point, except that it's about a topic that I live and breathe (and so do many of you!).
In order to sell me as a writer to the publisher, the agent needs to show I have an existing platform (or base of readers who are interested in what I have to say). Two platform areas where I could use some help are my blog and Twitter.
Here's who you can help:
* If you enjoy reading this blog, please consider joining by clicking the "Follow" button on the right. See? I put it on top just for you!
* If you're on Twitter, let's be friends! Visit www.twitter.com and search for maurer_kg. Click the "follow" button.
* If you know others who are interested in writing, outdoor sports, survival, international travel, etc., please share the links above with them so we can connect.
BTW, I post about once every two weeks, so I won't clog up your email with RSS feeds about the funny face my cat just made and what I ate for dinner. Promise.
Thanks for your help!
Fingers crossed on the book deal ...
Monday, January 17, 2011
Give it to me baby! (rejection)
Just because one of my New Years resolutions is to get more rejections, I've added a rejection meter at right. Sounds kind of weird, but in this business you have to be okay with rejections if you ever want to sell anything. So when I get one, I'm going to let it be counted and remind myself that at least I'm getting stuff out there.
And yup, got my first bong of 2011 today from Backpacker! He was actually pretty nice and gave me the name of another ed to pitch.
Anyone got any good skills ideas I could pitch to Backpacker?
Sunday, January 2, 2011
Query Phobia
Want to write for magazines or websites? Learn to write kick-ass query letters. A query letter (which is now usually done by email) is like a sales pitch to the editor. It outlines your story idea, why it would be a great fit for the magazine, what angle you'll take and who you'll interview. End with a bio.
Easy enough, right?
Shudder.
I'm just wrapping up a class on how to write better query letters. One thing's for sure -- when it comes to querying, I'm not alone in my absolute dread of hitting the send button. I think every freelancer dreams of the day when magazines are chasing her down with lucrative work. The sad truth is, most of us newbies spend a large percentage of our time querying -- and getting ignored or rejected. A decent acceptance to rejection ratio for a novice freelancer is, oh, 1-25.
I have several non-ingenious strategies for delaying the inevitable cold shoulder or rejection each query may bring:
* Spend hours perfecting each query. Rework it to death. Decide to send it tomorrow so you can review it with fresh eyes beforehand. Repeat this cycle for several weeks until the story's out of season or someone else gets the same idea published.
* Scan trade pubs and message boards, subconsciously praying that the market you're about to query has folded or the editor you're about to query has left. It happens all the time in this economy -- and it will buy you at least a week of guiltless procrastination.
* Send it to nine or ten writer friends to get their feedback. Give them at least three weeks to respond. Don't give them a deadline and for god's sakes, don't remind them.
* Work on everything else you can think of besides queries. Billing. Updating your website. Record keeping. Defragging your hard drive.
* Instead of querying, read a lot of message boards about how to write better queries.
Follow all of the above and you will find yourself in the same position I am today: completely out of paying work with nothing on the horizon. Since I started freelancing full-time in July, I've written exactly 13 queries. That's an average of one every 2 weeks. And seriously, this is something that takes maybe half a day to research and write well.
No more! If you'll glance to the right at the newly installed "Productivity Meter" you'll see that I'm planning to send out 31 new queries in the month of January -- one a day. If I can pull it off, I will have increased my productivity by, oh, 1400 percent. If I sell any of them, I'll put up another ticker to show that.
So now I have to figure out what to write about. My idea list is not terribly rich at the moment. But these are REAL IDEAS so please promise you won't steal them:
* Why smart women fall for scams
* Why smart men fall for scams
* Why smart retirees fall for scams
* Pink guns for girls
* Durians (you knew it)
* How to survive a tsunami
* How to survive a riot
* How to hike without getting a scabby nose (Does anyone else have this problem?)
* How drinking LESS water can make you healthier (Ha!)
* Profiles of people who have been hit by lightning
* Adventures in pet sitting (can interview roommate)
* Adventures in painting outdoors in the dark (friend who was attacked by elk and fire ants)
* Adventures in glass blowing (with sidebar on how to superglue your wounds shut)
* 27 ways to poop in the woods (remember the digger is not a putter)
* Should you let your daughter play Roller Derby? (YES!)
* Is your cat the damaged product of a dysfunctional family?
* Profile of a woman who tried to do the Eat, Pray, Love thing and it went terribly wrong (know one?)
* How to race an endurance event with a partner and NOT end up in a pool of blood
That's only 18 -- insufficient. Anyone else have an idea? Or an 8-12 year-old kid I can feed a durian to?
Cheers,
Sar
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