Literary Daydream and Introvert Nightmare

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’ll take it!

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.

One Brick at a Time: The Greatest Book on Earth

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:

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

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