Day: December 16, 2011

I’ve often said you don’t really know the subject of your writing until people read it and tell you. I am learning much about the spirit of Rose and the impact she had on so many people around the world, especially women. As a man, some of this has been challenging to piece together, but the outpouring for Rose after her death has helped me to see it more clearly. I always said that Rosie always got it done. Yesterday, you got it done.

Last night, Battenkill Books sold its 1,000th copy of “Going Home,” to a single mother who lives in Brooklyn. That was just as well,  as orders came in from Singapore, South Africa, Berlin and most, if not all, of the 50 states. Since the 1,000 person was invited to visit Bedlam Farm, we were not sure how we would have gotten them here. I was very proud and excited to be part of this  successful beyond-our-wildest-dreams project, and Rose’s spirit took us over the top, her death sparking at least 400 book orders, with,  it seems, many more on the way.

To me the Battenkill Project was a story of amazing women. Connie Brooks and her mother Marilyn could easily have been overwhelmed by the calls and e-mails and visits to their small bookstore in Cambridge, N.Y. They were not. When the Battenkill Project began, the store was barely equipped to handle it. No PayPal, one phone line, often only one person in the store.  Marilyn designed her own forms, got her website organized, and by Friday, had five people in the bookstore taking orders, arranging signatures, talking to people on the phone, taking credit card numbers, arranging for the almost endless stream of shipping. I went to the store almost every day for the last two weeks, each day thinking things would slow down, but they only speeded up. And at the end, Rose’s ferociously determined spirit hovered over the bookstore and the people in it. Certainly over the people calling.

The women of Battenkill were patient, tireless and efficient. Everyone loved dealing with them. They got it done. When I suggested going for 1,000 books, everyone smiled, But I always knew we would do it, and after a few days, so did they. This, I think, is what so many people loved about Rose. She was brave and she was also always a bit vulnerable. And she always got it done. Can’t thank you all enough. I took many of the calls to the bookstore myself and I was very humbled by the good things people told me, and especially, about how much Rose meant to them. Battenkill will continue selling my books, and I will continue to sign them, but this experience has been one of the most meaningful of my writing life.  All over the publishing industry, people have seen what a bookstore means to people all over America, even in faraway places. It is clear now that bookstores can survive, and it is clear that those with energy and vision will survive. People want to connect with people. And the power of the virtual community, often talked about but rarely realized, was seen very clearly.

Wow. And I see that I was correct about one things, dogs may die, but they don’t have to leave.

 

A week has passed since Rose was put down, and time changes the shape and scope and feeling of things. Life has moved like a stream around her and reformed. There is a lot more to write about – the other dogs,  a beautiful communication with Jeannie Lindheim, my thoughts on how we live, how we die.

I’m used to the new rythyms. Walking outside without Rose, and I no longer have the sense of being watched and/or herded wherever I went on the farm. Simon, her nemesis, looks for her every now and then, I think. So does Lenore. I’ll write more about this. I am moving forward. Lots to do, lots to live. But I intend to write about Rose’s life in one form or another – trying to figure out what farm. I learned this week how powerful a notion Rose is and much she touched the hearts and souls of people. I guess I didn’t know that. I will not forget it now.

 

Marilyn, Connie and Kate are exhausted from weeks of taking orders, unpacking books, shipping them out. Another load came in today and we expect to meet our goal of 1,000 books this afternoon after 4 p.m. 518 677-2515. I’ll be on hand to thank that person and invite them to Bedlam Farm. It doesn’t look like this will stop anytime soon, which is remarkable but orders can’t be guaranteed for Christmas after today, although books can be purchased anytime. I will sign and personalized any book of mine purchased from Battenkill, no matter when it is purchased.  I am amazed at the grace and patience and good humor the people at Battenkill have shown through this long and wonderful and strange campaign. I passed some thoughts on to Rose today, congratulating on her remarkable ability to sell books.

It is a strange experience, as there is a ghost in the room, really, since the story of Rose is in between her and you and it is very gratifying to hear and feel that I have captured the spirit of this remarkable dog in such a way. Heading off to the store. This is one of the best things I have been involved with. You are all great, generous of spirit, loving and loyal. I do not feel worthy of it.

 

One of the proudest and most rewarding things I’ve participated in in my writing life is the Battenkill Book campaign, a fusion of a writer’s life, a book tour, and the struggle of an independent bookstore to survive and prosper in the Corporate and Digital.  Connie Brooks has faced challenges bravely and without complaint,  and we teamed up this fall to promote my book, “Going Home,” and to also think of ways – it seemed a bit hopeless then – to draw people into a wonderful local bookstore that seemed nearly overwhelmed by change. It was her idea to have me offer to sign books to people and personalize them if they bought them at her store. It turned out to be a good idea.

I was shocked when we got past 200 books, amazed when we got to 500 and astonished when we got to 700. Then Rose died and people began spontaneously ordering books in her honor and her memory. Some are for themselves, some for shelters and friends and animal support groups. Rose’s memory has sold nearly 300 books in 48 hours and this afternoon and evening we will almost surely soar past 1,000 thanks mostly to her.

I just left the store and we had past 900- and the phone was ringing and e-mail orders rolling in all day. So we expect to name the 1000th person around 4:30. Maria and I are returning to the store then. The 1000th person to buy “Going Home” will get a free book and an invitation to visit Bedlam Farm. It might not be simple. I took calls from South Africa, Nebraska, Iowa, Canada and England yesterday and this morning. So there is an hour or so to go if anybody wants to purchase “Going Home” in honor of Rose or for any reason from Battenkill, which is having a great Christmas season. You can call 518 677-2515 or e-mail the store at [email protected] Connie had the whole family in there this morning taking calls. Connie will be taking orders beyond today, but this is the last guaranteed date for Christmas orders. What a satisfying thing to be a part of.

Can’t thank you enough. This is a powerful statement for lots of reasons. I am just overwhelmed. Happily so.

 

Since I’ve been with Maria, I’ve gone to a number of art and craft shows, author and artist’s nights, gallery openings and fairs. Being an artist is very different from being a writer, and art is marketed very differently than books. Sometimes these events are dispiriting, artists sitting alone with their work for hours, writers sitting behind tables with their books lined up, trying not to make eye contact or seem to be pressuring people to buy their books.  Art and jewelry is stuffed in baskets, books stacked up in piles.  People move awkwardly past the books and the art and the crafts, not sure what to say, where to look. I often feel discouraged leaving these events, but that might just be me. I wonder about the way these works are presented so indirectly, so tentatively, with such little enthusiasm. It rarely seems to work.

We went to one of these evenings last night, an “author-artist” night in a Glens Falls cafe and my eye was drawn to one writer sitting alone in a corner, a table of her books in front of her. She was alone.  Something about her energy caught me, drew me over to her table and she smiled and looked away, to be polite. I picked up her book, a lovely looking paperback called “Backyard Beekeepers of the Bay Area,” and I asked the woman if she was the author and she said she was. Her name is Judith Adamson, and I asked her if she was a beekeeper and she said no, she was a writer, a personal historian who writes the histories of people and their families  – she just wrote a book (with beautiful illustrations by her sister, Lisa Adamson)  about the backyard beekeepers of San Francisco Bay, who are working to save the declining honeybee population by maintaining hives.

What are you doing in Glens Falls, N.Y., I asked her, and she told me she was from Berkeley, Calif. and in this area for a year for personal reasons. She missed the Bay Area, she said, and you could see that in her eyes. She said she wanted to go back, and she was seeking ways to sell her work, her books and her personal histories. Like many writers, Adamson is trying to figure out how navigate the new publishing world. Not easy.  Most commercial publishers would not think to publish so sweet and surprising a book as “Backyard Beekepers” – but that doesn’t mean it isn’t wonderful or can’t be sold or successful.

So then, this became a spiritual experience for me. Adamson had never thought of using a blog to sell her work, and she lit up at the possibilities. It’s great to go to fairs, I said, but there are also new and better ways to sell your work. She had never thought of using a blog that way, she said, something I often hear.  We made plans to talk about it. I bought her book for $15 and I was up half the night reading this very powerful, fascinating story about the lovely people who are fighting to keep honeybees in our world, and the mesmerizing stories they told Judith about these incredible creatures. I could not put it down. It was very touching to see these good but anxious people – gardeners, chefs, teachers – acquire their hives, and how much they came to love the bees they were trying to save,  often in face of disinterest and fear. Talk about buying local. Or healing the damage we have done to Mother Earth.  This is, I think, the new politics, perhaps the new writing.

“The comb itself is mind-boggling,” recorded one new beekeeper to Adamson. “It’s quite amazing that the bees can make these perfect hexagonal structures.  The hexagonal cell is the absolute best shape. Inside the hexagon is the circle that holds the egg…The hexagon is absolutely perfect. It’s the strongest, uses the least amount of wax and saves the greatest amount of space..” Subsequent passages on the mysterious life of the queen and her drones and field bees were almost hynpotic.

I hope to convince Judy Adamson to get a strong personal and professional blog going so she can sell her paperbooks and perhaps e-books too. She hopes to broaden the beekeeping idea and I know that could work. I am drawn to the idea of a writer who does personal histories, as Audio Cd’s, Video DVD’s, Narrative Videos and Bound Books. I bet that is just how writing was born. I also highly recommend her wonderful bee stories. I woke Maria up reading it to her this morning, and she loves it as much as I do. You can contact Judith Adamson on her website.  Or call her at 518-238-3806. Or e-mail her at [email protected]. Or buy “Backyard Beekeepers Of The Bay Area” on Amazon. Many of you have helped support the idea of the independent bookstore by buying your books from Battenkill Books. If you can, please take a look at “Backyard Beekeepers.” If you love animals and the natural world, it will touch your heart and stir your soul. And it’s cheaper than many e-books.  This is, I how, how the world will be changed. One good soul at a time.  And how good writers will emerge to tell their stories – one blog at a time. And let Judith know about the importance of blogs, too. She is ready to hear it, I think.

I believe that technology can bring writers like Judith Adamson, a pure writer in the most ancient tradition – telling the stories of people, and now, of bees – to the marketplace. It’s wonderful to sit at tables and talk to other artists. But there are new and powerful tools to sell our work as well. They work. Just ask Connie Brooks.