Joe Taylor

Because much of what I write is in the first person there is often confusion about whether the voice is “me” or “the narrator”. For better or worse, for acceptance or rejection, this blog will be “me”, the real me, writing about my attempt to publish a book. 

This isn’t my first attempt. About this time last year I was anxiously awaiting acceptance of a book of observations, recollections, and flights of fancy about my life that I had been encouraged to write. I was waiting…and waiting.

Gradually the responses trickled in, eventually a bucket of cold water poured over my head and with it the reality that nobody would want to buy a book about somebody’s life who they didn’t know. My only option seemed to be to Xerox 34 copies…the number of people I estimate will come to my funeral. 

During the process of writing my stillborn epic my editor, you know her as the lovely, talented, and now publisher of a book of her own, Jess Weible, suggested…actually forced me (it’s her teacher intimidation that cows us all) to write pieces about my lifetime in radio and include them in the book. I resisted, but threw them in. 

Along with the longer, more biographical pieces in the book, I tossed in many of my shorter, esoteric, some would say delusional flash and micro pieces. A very nice rejection letter (someone slices your finger off then picks it up for you to put back on) requested more of my short pieces and has placed me in very serious contention for a book of flash, which I will know about within six weeks.

So, technically that was my second book publishing effort. But, it would not be alive and pending if I hadn’t attempted to publish the first book. 

Jess continued to preach to me about doing a radio book. (Preacher, teacher…they’re all the same, try to make you do what’s good for you.) I continued to mope around, bemoaning the fact that no publisher wanted to hear about my life, my observations, my delusions…grandeur and otherwise.

Finally, one workshop Sunday afternoon, at what felt to me like an intervention, I was forced to admit that Jess might be right. When the wonderful woman I’m dating joined the crowd I had no choice. Grudgingly, I agreed there might be a market for a book about the business I’ve spent all but the first fifteen years of my life in. 

I asked Jess how many words would make a book. Why did I do that? She’s a teacher…she’ll make it a big number. And she did…60,000 words. I had serious doubts about a reader caring enough about radio, a medium that is gradually fading from prominence, to sit through 60,000 words.

I realized that the worst approach I could take would be to write a boring history of radio or get lost in the weeds explaining the industry in technical terms. Yet, I wanted to explain things that I imagine the average person wonders about when they listen to radio.

The four radio pieces included in my original book had been about the people, the characters I’ve worked with, about the situations, funny, threatening, perplexing, that they and I have found ourselves in. If it had not been for the ill fated attempt to publish my first book I would not have the foundation upon which to build a book that I believe will be successful. There’s a lesson here. 

Next Time: The Process