Personal

I've been pondering an article by Writer's Digest blogger and editor Jane Friedman, who is "getting frustrated with people who say they're bad at marketing & promotion because they're introverts". In the age of social media, Friedman reminds us:

... introverts should be over the moon at how lucky we are to live in an age when we can effectively market and promote by

• staying at home
• using whatever tools suit our communication style best (e-mail, IM, Skype, Twitter, Facebook, etc.)
• crafting and controlling messages to our own satisfaction
• limiting interaction when needed

I see what she's getting at, and this is a good message for independent writers and publishers to hear. It's a message that feels relevant to me, because I've been trying to push myself to work harder on publicity and marketing since beginning an e-book publishing venture in April. I know how important this is, and I already knew (before Jane Friedman reminded me) that I wouldn't get where I needed to go without stepping way beyond my comfort zone in terms of self-marketing.

An NPR review by Jessa Crispin alerted me that a book I'd been awaiting with some dread is now published.

Janet Malcolm's Iphigenia in Forest Hills: Anatomy of a Murder Trial is about the trial of Mazoltuv Borukhova, a young woman who arranged the murder of her ex-husband Daniel Malakov, a young orthodontist in Queens, New York, in an attempt to gain full custody of their 4-year-old daughter. The reason I've been awaiting this book with some dread is that, a couple of months before this murder, I met the victim.

These are the books I kept. I probably threw out or lost about as many from the five years I spent earning a bachelor's degree in Philosophy from the State University of New York at Albany. But these books followed me in all my life's travels, and the ideas they held did too.

The University at Albany was a good school, and I got a strong education there. I didn't appreciate the college as much at the time as I do now -- but it's hard to feel special inside an education factory with a population of 18,000.

The Philosophy department was a small, slightly quaint and dusty retreat inside the giant factory, notable for its complete lack of career focus. I liked all my professors (though I find it odd to realize, now, that I never knew any of their first names). Prof. Cadbury taught the proverbial Philosophy 101; he introduced me to Rene Descartes, John Locke, Immanuel Kant. (These names thrilled me strangely, then, and they still do today. Call me a philosophy nerd, I don't care.)

So much to do! Like sneaking into Mr Jones' house late at night
and cover his golf clubs with 1920 Norwegian books
Like hanging a picture of Rimbaud on the lawnmower
like pasting Tannu Tuva postage stamps all over the picket fence
like when Mrs Kindhead comes to collect for the Community Chest
grab her and tell her There are unfavorable omens in the sky!
And when the mayor comes to get my vote tell him
When are you going to stop people killing whales!
And when the milkman comes leave him a note in the bottle
Penguin dust, bring me penguin dust, I want penguin dust--
... Yes if I should get married and it's Connecticut and snow ...
-- Gregory Corso, Marriage

Two very special people I know, including one person you've met here before, are getting married this weekend. I'm very excited and obviously not able to do much blogging -- but regular programming will return on Monday and I'll be back with the Book Review next weekend.