It’s the first day of our family vacation. Dad and all seven sons have rented an oceanfront house. I comb the beach with a few of my brothers: Bill, Chris, and John. I’m feeling cool, wearing my favorite shirt from CBGB’s, ready to let go of work and reap the rewards of a life well lived. My brother Bill asks, “What’s new?” “Well, I just finished my book.” “What’s it called?” asks Chris. “Carpe Diem, Manana.” “What’s that mean?” asks John. “Seize the day, tomorrow.” “That doesn’t even make sense,” Bill says. “Paul, I’m in marketing. People want to buy a book that makes them feel warm and fuzzy.” I say, “How about Carpe Cockapoo?” “How many pages is it?” asks Chris. “About two hundred.” Bill says, “Two hundred? Who wants to read a book that’s two hundred pages?” “I think it’s been done, Bill. Why? Are you still reading The Hungry Caterpillar?” Chris asks, “What kind of book is it?” “Humor and philosophy.” John says, “No one reads philosophy.” “Paul, no one is going to buy a philosophy book that’s two hundred pages with a title in Spanish,” says Bill, the marketing genius who is currently on my calling plan because of his anemic credit score. “Carpe diem is Latin. Manana is Spanish.” Bill gets animated: “How are they going to know the book’s in English? People make up their minds in ten seconds. Paul, you have to grab people right away.” “There are laws against that, Bill.” “So, what is your philosophy?” asks John. “It’s about living from your heart, not your head; seeking joy, not results.” Chris shouts over the pounding waves, “It take two hundred pages to say that?” “Why don’t you do a survey and ask people if they like the title?” Bill asks. “Because I love the title, Bill. I wrote this book for me. I don’t want to spend an ounce of time figuring out what other people might like. I’m going to give you guys one piece of unsolicited advice: stop giving unsolicited advice.” As I say this a woman walks by and compliments my shirt. Bill asks, “What’s your shirt say?” I tell him, “Carpe diem, manana.” We laugh. John asks, “How much are you selling the book for?” “Twenty bucks.” “Why not make it two books and sell them for ten bucks each,” Bill says, demonstrating why his skills pay some of the bills. “I might,” I say, “or maybe I’ll sell it by the page.” “How many hours have you spent working on it?” Chris asks. “I have no idea. All I know is I’ve loved every minute of it.” I didn’t expect this onslaught, but for the first time I don’t feel belittled, just amused. If Jesus were in my family he would have stuck with carpentry. Excerpt From my book, Carpe Diem, Manana: available at Amazon/carpediemmanana
Posted on: Mon, 15 Sep 2014 22:37:58 +0000