Literary Daydream and Introvert Nightmare

On May 2, 2024May 2, 2024 By Sarah AngletonIn Books, Communication, Famous Quotes11 Comments

In 1936, Eleanor Roosevelt wrote in her nationally syndicated news column, My Day: “I wonder if anyone else glories in cold and snow without, an open fire within, and the luxury of a tray of food all by oneself in one’s own room? I realize it sounds extremely selfish and a little odd to look upon this as a festive occasion. Nevertheless, last night was a festive occasion for I spent it in this way!”

Eleanor Roosevelt, Public Domain via Wikimedia Commons

This from a woman who gave more than three hundred press conferences in her role as First Lady, served as a delegate in the United Nations, and averaged more than a hundred speaking engagements a year throughout her life in public service. In her own words, she was an “ugly duckling” who was a “shy, solemn child,” who eventually grew into the woman who insisted you should “do one thing every day that scares you.”

But even though Mrs. Roosevelt clearly conquered her shyness, she still enjoyed a quiet evening by herself from time to time, indicating that this first lady was probably a pretty good example of an introvert.

That’s not the same thing as shy, of course, though the two may go hand in hand. Introversion is a personality trait that demands moments of quiet introspection. The introvert may actually enjoy a good party or press conference as much as her buddy the extrovert. The difference is that after the speech has been given, the crowd has dispersed, and the extrovert is all keyed up and on the lookout for the next party, the introvert is feeling the need for a festive night in with a tray.

I totally feel Eleanor on this one. I am not a particularly shy person. Maybe I was when I was younger, though I’m happy to say I never really considered myself an ugly duckling. I generally enjoy getting to know others and I’m sure I could manage a good press conference if I ever had to. But after that’s all done, I tend to be pretty exhausted. And boy am I tired right now.

If you’ve been reading this blog for the last few weeks, then you already know I’m in the throes of a book launch. It’s going well. Compared to previous book launches I’ve done, it’s actually going really well. By that I mean there seem to be actual real people that I don’t personally know, buying and reading my book.

I’m sure it helps that this is the fifth book I’ve sent out into the world. and maybe just maybe I’m getting better at it. For this one especially, I spent a minute or two over the past several months lining up promotional opportunities, most of which have been more or less panning out now that the time is finally here. Because the book has a timely and local connection, I’ve lucked into a few opportunities as well. And then there’s my wonderful launch team that has been enthusiastically and generously hyping the novel all over social media.

I am truly grateful that because of these efforts, this book is off to a good start, winding its way into the hands of a wider audience than I’ve ever reached before. In many ways, I am living in a lovely literary daydream. I’m also fairly overwhelmed at all the attention coming at me and my book, which is kind of my introvert nightmare.

I just need like one minute and then we can talk about the book again. Image by Hans Kretzmann from Pixabay

There’s a part of me (a big part, if I’m being honest) that might rather everyone just go back to their previously scheduled lives and ignore me and my book as we curl up to enjoy a festive night in.

Of course I don’t really want that. I do want people to read the book. It’s just that because I have strong introvert tendencies, I’m tired and also totally excited to know readers are discovering the book and engaging with it and with me, and I’m tired and I’m enthusiastic and I’m tired and I’m grateful, and I’m tired.

Yeah, it’s been a long couple of weeks. If you’d like to see me doing one thing that scares me, you can hop over to the Paradise on the Pike book page and check out my first ever live radio interview on local station NewsTalkSTL, which didn’t end up being as scary as I thought it might be. You go on ahead without me. I’m just going to take a minute to sit with a tray in my room.

Avoiding Traffic

On April 11, 2024April 11, 2024 By Sarah AngletonIn Astronomy, History, Travel12 Comments

August 15, 1969 was a mild, warm day near the small town of Bethel, New York. It was the perfect day for a leisurely drive down State Highway 17B. By leisurely of course, I mean about an eight hour drive to move about ten miles with nearly half a million of your closest friends.

Just like in the classic children’s book Go Dog, Go! by P.D. Eastman, the place everyone was going on that pretty day in the middle of nowhere, was a great big party—in this case, the Woodstock Music and Art Fair that was to take place for “three days of peace and music” on a 600-acre dairy farm.

I have lots of friends who made the drive and took the pictures. This isn’t one of theirs, but they all look pretty much like this. Image by Dane from Pixabay

The weather didn’t stay nice, of course. The sky grew overcast and there was a fair amount of rain to try to soak into an already somewhat saturated ground. By the end of the event, which rain delays pushed into a fourth day, there was an awful lot of mud. And the road snarl to get there was bad enough the performers had to be brought in by helicopter. Nearly fifty-five years later it still makes the top ten list of all-time worst traffic jams in history.

But people who attended seem to think it was a pretty good time. The whole thing sounds like an absolute nightmare to me, but then my perfect day would more likely be spent on a dairy farm in the middle of nowhere with no one but the cows and a book. Well, maybe a few people could come with me. And I’d want at least three books. Also, no traffic.

There are probably a lot of things I’d choose not to do just so I could avoid traffic. Earlier this week I made just such a decision when a swath of my state experienced a total solar eclipse. From the vantage point of my driveway, the moon’s coverage of the sun was somewhere close to 98%.

If you do like to avoid a rush, you can still get a free advance digital copy of my new historical mystery by joining the launch team by April 15th: https://forms.gle/psi7ctZ6fNK88dbB9

A lot of people got pretty excited about the idea of traveling a smidge into the area of totality. I do mean a lot. The news reported that drive times doubled and even more than tripled in parts of the state. In many places, traffic completely shut down during the eclipse itself with motorists donning cardboard eclipse glasses and staring up at the sky.

Of those I know who traveled for the event, most say it was well worth it. I’m sure it was. If I hadn’t experienced a total eclipse seven years ago, I might have been excited enough to travel, too, but the traffic in my driveway was no thicker than usual.

At nearly 98% coverage of the sun, the sky grew noticeably darker, the air got cooler, the insect noise shifted a bit, and my dog grew a touch antsy. I had a pair of cardboard eclipse glasses and I did stare up at a sliver of the sun. Then I had a lengthy conversation with my four-year-old neighbor who was wearing a Spider-Man sweatshirt just in case the eclipse gifted him with superpowers.

It didn’t, which was disappointing for both of us. But the day was mild and warm, perfect for standing on the driveway, looking up at the sky, and avoiding traffic.

Shooting for the Moon with A Lot of Help

On April 4, 2024 By Sarah AngletonIn Books, History3 Comments

Even astronauts need a little help from 400,000 friends. NASA, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons

On July 16 of 1969, at 9:32 AM approximately one million people gathered on Florida beaches to witness the launch of Apollo 11. Many of them had camped out for multiple days to claim a spot. I imagine their enthusiasm was palpable.

Millions more people watched on television. Excitement mounted in the first few days of the mission and by the time Neil Armstrong took that first small step, 650 million people tuned in to see it happen, making the event the most widely watched television broadcast in history.

And it couldn’t have happened if NASA’s first female launch controller JoAnn Morgan hadn’t been in the control room, or electrical engineer Tom Sanzone hadn’t designed and monitored the backpack life support systems worn by the moon-walkers, or if astronaut Frank Borman hadn’t used a personal connection to assure that the Luna 15 Soviet spacecraft wouldn’t interfere with the Apollo mission, or if diver Clancy Hatleb hadn’t been on scene to welcome the returning astronauts to earth by whisking them into quarantine in case of space germs.

A new historical mystery set against the backdrop of the 1904 World’s Fair in St. Louis, for fans of *Water for Elephants* and *Devil in the White City*.

In all, NASA estimates that approximately 400,000 people contributed to the success of the Apollo 11 moon landing, from thousands of engineers working throughout the world to the janitors and caterers that kept the facilities running smoothly. Every successful launch requires coordinated effort from a lot of people.

That statement is true when applied to Apollo 11, and it’s true when applied to a new book. My fourth historical novel, Paradise on the Pike, a mystery set against the backdrop of the 1904 World’s Fair in St. Louis, will officially launch on April 18 and it’s taken a lot of people to get it this far, from critique partners, beta readers, and cheerleaders to cover artist, formatter, and editor. It maybe hasn’t taken 400,000 people, but it’s been a lot.

And I still need help to get the book off the ground because no matter how enthusiastic I am about this book launch, I can’t make it successful by myself. I could really use an enthusiastic crowd to camp out on the beach and cheer loudly in hopes that even more people will become curious enough to tune in.

If you are interested in being part of that first, important crowd, I would love for you to join my launch team on Facebook. Participation is simple. You’ll receive an advance digital copy of the book to review (along with some helpful guidance if you’re not too sure how to do that) and some graphics to share on social media, There will also be some fun and chances to win prizes along the way. Sign up to be part of the group at this link: https://forms.gle/psi7ctZ6fNK88dbB9

Or if Facebook isn’t your thing, but you happen to be a NetGalley reviewer, you can request a review copy of the book at this link: https://www.netgalley.com/catalog/book/354539

I probably won’t be able to pull together a million, or even 400,000, people to help me with this, though feel free to share the opportunity with anyone you think might be interested. Of course I also wouldn’t be terribly surprised if somewhat fewer than 650 million people eventually read my book. Still, it takes a lot of help to shoot for the moon.

Four Score and Seven Words to Go

On January 30, 2020January 30, 2020 By Sarah AngletonIn Books, History, Writing9 Comments

On November 2, 1863, a man named David Wills, writing on behalf of the governor of Pennsylvania, asked then president of the United States Abraham Lincoln if he might consider making “a few appropriate remarks” at the November 19th consecration ceremony of a new cemetery for the many soldiers who had died at the Battle of Gettysburg.

Gettysburg address — Lincoln’s in there somewhere making a few appropriate remarks. Just upper left of center, I think. Photographer attributions vary from unidentified (William Frassanito) to Mathew Brady (NARA) and David Bachrach (1845-1921) (Center for Civil War Photography). [Public domain]

The main speaker was to be Edward Everett, who allegedly spoke eloquently for nearly two hours, as everyone pretty much expected. History books rarely recount what he said. Then it was Lincoln’s turn. The president spoke relatively few words. Not even three hundred, in fact. And, diagnosed not long after with smallpox, he probably wasn’t feeling very well at the time. Still, most American school children could recite at least some of them.

Rumors have long circulated that the president dashed off the speech while on the train to the event, but that probably isn’t quite true. I don’t doubt that he fine-tuned and finalized a little of his phrasing on that train, but he’d known for a couple of weeks that he’d have to say something. Various observations place him scribbling notes between photo shoots and presidential responsibilities in the days leading up to the event. Most likely he thought a great deal about the words he would say.

I can’t speak for all writers and orators, but I know that for me much composition occurs in my head, swirling in the background of whatever essential tasks I’m completing. Sometimes I dash off a note or two to help me remember later, and then when I finally get a few dedicated moments, I have someplace to start and a great deal to pull together.

I think this is probably how it worked for Lincoln when he delivered what has become his most remembered address.

I was hoping something similar would happen with my blog post this week. You see, it’s been busy around here. I’m getting ready to launch a new book in a little less than a week, which means I have been spending a lot of time preparing. I’ve been upping my game on social media, sending off press releases, scheduling events, cranking out posts for an upcoming blog tour, and designing graphics. I even made a book trailer.

And then there’s my family, still busy doing all the many things they do while also expecting to occasionally eat and/or spend time together.

So, I was definitely hoping for some inspiration for this week’s practical history blog post. Unfortunately, if ideas were swirling somewhere in the background while I was busy elsewhere, I didn’t get them scribbled down.

But Abraham Lincoln is pretty inspiring as historical figures go. And though I think I can be fairly certain that “the world will little note, nor long remember” what I’ve written here, I can at least say I got it done.

5 more days until publication! Follow this link to check out more information about the book, or follow this one to sign up to receive occasional email updates.

One Brick at a Time: The Greatest Book on Earth

On May 9, 2017May 9, 2017 By Sarah AngletonIn Books, History, Writing16 Comments

I don’t usually post on Tuesdays. But today is a special day, because five years ago, on May 9, 2012, I posted for the first time in this space as the Practical Historian. I didn’t really know what the blog would be about back then. I mean, I had a vague notion that since I write historical fiction, I should probably blog about history, but that was all I knew.

bloggiversary cupcake — Five years of blogging means I deserve a cupcake, right?

I was also a little scared, because I never liked history all that much. That is, until I started to research it as a storyteller. When I did that, I began to discover all of these weird and wonderful moments that make up the story of this world full of weird and wonderful people.

But right away I had a problem. You see, I’m not a historian. And I certainly never wanted to claim to be one, so I decided to take a very lighthearted approach to the subject, and to do my best along the way not to claim any authority I had no right to claim. I started to slowly build up the blog one brick at a time until it took on a distinctive, if somewhat unusual, shape.

What I ended up with was a blog that was a little bit history and a little bit me, one that was kind of funny, and sort of smart, and occasionally silly. And then all you readers started to show up, and you turned out to be funny and smart and occasionally silly, too.

Week after week, I found myself laying down bricks, and more and more of you followed along to see what I was up to, winding through history with me, with really no rhyme or reason at all to the path, and usually ending up somewhere surprising.

It’s like what the fine citizens of New York found themselves doing one sunny afternoon when a few of them noticed a poorly dressed gentleman laying bricks. When I say he was laying bricks, I don’t mean he was a mason busy with a construction project. Instead, this man was laying a brick here and then moving down the walkway to lay another one there, lined up just so. Whatever he was doing, he did it with precision, and in complete silence. The crowd that soon gathered found him fascinating, and as the man walked on, placing his bricks, they followed.

They followed him around the block and straight into Barnum’s American Museum where many of them purchased a ticket and continued their pursuit through the unusual displays they found there. As the crowd became distracted by the wonders and oddities in P.T. Barnum’s museum, the curious man and his bricks slipped out the back to continue on the path, where he picked up and replaced each precisely set brick as he came to it.

PT_Barnum_1851-crop — P. T. Barnum, the publicist I would hire, if only I could. By unattributed – Harvard Library, Public Domain, via Wikimedia Commons

Earlier in the day, the man had asked Barnum for a handout and what the great showman and even greater salesman offered instead was a job. Directed by Barnum, the man’s nonsensical bricklaying drew a crowd so large that after a few days, the police forced him to stop because traffic couldn’t get through. And many of the people who flocked to observe the brick man, paid to follow him into the museum. That’s some clever marketing by a man who called his own circus, “The Greatest Show on Earth,” and got us all to go along with it.

Now, if you’ve been reading this blog for the last month or so, you may have seen that as I approached this big blogiversary, the way I decided to celebrate was to publish a collection of some of my favorite posts from the past five years. If you’ve enjoyed the blog, I think you’ll enjoy the book (which features much better editing and a lovely cover). And if not, then maybe you know someone who would.

LaunchingSheep-CoverImage — Available today from Amazon and anyone else who sells books. I think there are still a few others.

So, I want to ask you for a favor. If you have appreciated the blog at any point over the last five years, would you be willing to share this post, or tell someone about the book, or mention it on Facebook, or give it a shout out on your blog, or send out a Tweet, or pin it, or Snapchat it to your grandma, or whatever the cool kids are doing these days?

Because as much as I love to write and as proud as I am of the blog and the book, I’m no P.T. Barnum and promotion scares me silly. I’ll do my best, but I’m pretty sure I will never be bold enough to call this the Greatest Book on Earth (if you feel so compelled, please feel free). And I sure would be grateful if you could lay down a few bricks along your path.

Thank you so much for five years. You are, without doubt, the Greatest Blog Readers on Earth.

If you’re into Twitter, here are a couple of ready-to-place bricks you can use:

A quirky collection about history and family life and all the funny bits. #LaunchingSheep https://ctt.ec/7WXaq+

History meets modern day family life in this funny and heartwarming collection. #LaunchingSheep https://ctt.ec/UjzVD+

Author Sarah Angleton

Tag: book launch