A big thank you to Rachel and Mary for allowing me to blog with such a great group of writers. What fun!
I’ve never considered myself to be obsessive compulsive . . . until now. My first trade book (Hot Flashes & Cold Cream) hit the shelves in November. Our area Christian bookstore rose to the occasion and ordered twenty-five books. I should have been thrilled. Instead, I was mortified! What if they don’t sell? Will these nice people be stuck with all my books? Worse yet, will they have to return them, and we’ll forever be ducking from one another in grocery aisles, too embarrassed to talk about “it”?
At first, the bookseller and I spoke favorably as we admired my “baby” on the shelves. We discussed its future and went our separate ways. Frequently, I work at the coffee shop in the bookstore, so a few days after they got my books in I meandered through the aisles until I found myself face-to-face with “the” book.
That’s when it happened. Something came over me that I couldn’t explain. A need to do something--like take an inventory.
Looking around to make sure no one was watching, I fingered my way through my books and counted how many were left. Twenty-two. Whew, three had sold (relatives had been in). I was satisfied--until the next day.
I came back and repeated the routine. One had sold. Mom bought it.
This went on day after day until I caught some of the coworkers giving one another a “knowing” glance when they’d see me walk in. I thought about wearing a fake nose and glasses the next time I went in, but my husband said that would be too obvious. So I sent him in instead. The employees didn’t put the two of us together—YET. He counted for a while. The books slowly dwindled and I started to relax. Just when they got down to a respectable amount, I walked in to find a fresh order of my books! This time they were placed on an end cap, visible right when you walked into the store!
Now the whole town would see my books languish on the shelf.
The pressure overwhelmed me. I ate a two-pound bags of M&Ms for lunch. Every day. Without fail.
Relentlessly, I would count those books, followed by prayer and fasting (dinner, not lunch, couldn’t give up the M&Ms) that they would disappear. I ran out of relatives, so I begged friends and strangers to go buy a copy.
I gave some of them money.
Now there are only a few remaining. I may send my daughter in to buy the last copies, but I’m afraid if I do, they’ll order more. A sick way to think, I know, but there it is.
Okay, maybe I’ve slightly exaggerated this story, but you get the idea. It’s easy to get caught up in “the numbers,” the pressure of the business and get my focus off the things that truly matter. Pleasing my Lord: writing the story He lays on my heart and leaving the rest up to Him. Besides, if I don’t, I’ll eat myself into a chocolate coma. There’s not a whole lot I can do about the outcome anyway—short of mortgaging our home and buying the whole inventory. But I can rest in Him and trust that He knows what’s best for my future, come what may.
So that’s where it is—with Him. Still, if you happen to see Hot Flashes & Cold Cream languishing on a shelf . . . .
Hey, nobody’s perfect.
--Diann
Turning Wrinkles into Laugh Lines
www.diannhunt.com
www.girlswriteout.blogspot.com
Hot Flashes & Cold Cream, WestBow Press
RV There Yet? WestBow Press, May 2006
Hot Tropics & Cold Feet, WestBow Press, November 2006
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