CreateSpace vs. Ingram Spark

Any of you following along will know I am trying to self-publish a Print-On-Demand (POD) genealogy reference book on my family in particular. I had decided to use Amazon’s CreateSpace because so many people suggested it and it has been around a while. What I found was that because of the length of my book, I could NOT use CreateSpace (more on that below), and so I went over to Lightning Source, another POD company people had suggested. Lightning Source’s POD arm for small or self-publishers is called IngramSpark.

The following comparison of the two resources is necessarily incomplete, as I could not complete the process with CreateSpace and have not yet completed the process with IngramSpark. But it’s what I have found so far.

CreateSpace is very easy to use. However, I found their Submission Guidelines to be missing or misleading in key areas. When reading how to format your book’s interior, it tells you the gutter margin for 3 different pages count ranges, all the way up to 1,000 pages. What they don’t tell you anywhere in the Submission Guidelines (it can be found elsewhere on the website) is that there are maximum page limitations based on trim size and color vs. black and white options. Based on their Page Count table, the maximum number of pages anywhere is 828 (not 1,000) and if you choose to do full color, 480 is your limit. My full-color book, unfortunately, is 508 pages. Due to the nature of the content, there is no way I can cut 30 pages out. Which is why I went to IngramSpark. (I did confirm with CreateSpace customer service that I was correct and I COULD NOT print this book with them.)

IngramSpark is also not difficult to use. However, it will require more money for you to get started. At this point in the process, I have run across several fees:

  • $49 one-time set-up fee per book (waived if you have a 50 book drop order within a certain amount of time after setting up your book)
  • $11 annual distribution fee (if you are simply printing for your family and do not want distribution, this fee is waived)
  • ISBN fee. IngramSpark requires you provide your own ISBN number. You can purchase one for $125, or you can purchase batches of them for less per unit through Bowker. CreateSpace allows you to either use an Amazon ID number (not the same as an ISBN) or to purchase an ISBN through them (I think it was $10) or to provide your own.

So it is more expensive to use IngramSpark. The question you need to ask yourself is: Can I make my book fit CreateSpace’s limitations in a way that will not compromise the book’s quality? In my case, because I have a lot of photos and documents and charts, the answer was “no.”

The actual interior design process is the same–upload a PDF to their website. I will say that IngramSpark’s gutter margins are MUCH smaller than CreateSpace’s, probably due to manufacturing differences, which allows me to have larger photos and charts.

I have not used the cover designer for either system yet, so cannot know how they compare. I also don’t know about the quality of the final product or the tracking and royalty payment facets, since I haven’t finished the book yet.

Having to switch to IngramSpark has set me back, because with the much smaller gutter margins I need to re-size all my photos, graphs, etc. The text, of course, was easy to readjust. Still, I am pleased that I have an outlet to get this book out there in the way I envisioned it, instead of having to present it in a non-optimal way to force it into CreateSpace’s limitations.

I am slowly exploring this self-publishing world, both in ebook and now POD. It’s a fascinating journey! I will bring more info on IngramSpark after I have completed the process and have more to share.

Have you done POD? What has your experience been?

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Snow Days

I don’t know about you, but whenever it snows, I slip back into that school-kid mentality of a “snow day.” A day off. A day to relax and read and sleep late and do whatever I want. My distracted mind is not helped by the fact that I work from home. So I am home on a snow day, making it feel…like a snow day.

Except that doesn’t work so well now that I’m not a kid anymore.

I work from home. The key word is work. Meaning snow-covered or icy roads are no excuse for not getting to the office. I’m already there. The work is waiting on my laptop, or just an internet connection away. So I still need to hunker down and work, in spite of the holiday that’s happening in my head.

Add to that my preschooler. A snow day really is a snow day for her—no school. So I have an external distraction to trying to get work done. Not to mention she has this insane idea that going out to play in the snow is fun, and that we should do it. (I used to like it, too, as a kid. When did that change?)

Still, the work got done, so no harm done.

As distracting and unproductive as that “snow day” feeling is, I still relish it. There is something peaceful in watching the snow pile up while knowing you are safe and snug inside. There’s something about the white flakes drifting down and the cold wind howling around the house that makes me want to break out the board games. Family time.

So maybe that snow day feeling isn’t so bad. Maybe it’s Nature’s way of telling me to slow down. To take a break and enjoy life a little more. To pay more attention, as I have vowed to do more this year. To be that kid again.

And maybe it’s good I realized that now, because it’s only January. We have a lot of winter left to go, and it looks like it’s going to keep bringing us snow like we haven’t seen in years!

Does snow make you feel like you deserve the day off?

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Even Kids Can Change the World

A while back, Roni Loren talked about author themes—recurring themes that happen in almost all of an author’s work, regardless of genre jumps, etc. And recently Jami Gold talked about finding an author tagline to help with branding—a tagline to let people know what you write about.

Now, I am not great with titles and pithy taglines. So I still don’t have an author tagline. But I did start thinking about what I write and what it’s really all about at the bottom line.

So here it is: I want kids to know that being who they truly are is powerful, and that their power can change the world.

Sounds kind of lofty, doesn’t it?

When people, especially kids, hear about changing the world, they think big. Becoming President or curing cancer or brokering world peace. And doing any of those things is intimidating, overwhelming, and must wait until they grow up.

But here’s the secret: little things change the world, too.

Making a difference in just one person’s life can change the world in ways you may never see. It will certainly change that person’s life. And that causes a ripple effect as his changed life impacts other lives.

Kids can do that. They can make a difference to one person. Every child has the ability to perform an act of kindness or generosity. They can reach out to the new kid in school. They can help tutor other kids. They can shovel the sidewalk of the elderly person next door. They can volunteer for causes they are passionate about. They can speak up for people being bullied. They can smile at someone who is sad. They can give their birthday money to a cause they want to support. By listening to their hearts and following their passions, they can make a difference today in their own world.

Make one difference; you change the world.

This may sound overly-idealistic to some. Sometimes it sounds that way to me, too. I’ve been around the block, I know how cynical and hard the world is. Except that I have seen the difference a single person can make. I have been touched by a child that never spoke a word, yet spawned an incredible tsunami of kindness.

So I don’t have an author tagline, but that’s why I write. To tell kids that they are powerful, even when they don’t feel like they are. To tell them that they can make a difference, even when they don’t think can. Because the world needs change and they are the ones to do it.

One person can change the world. And you are never too young to be that person.

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Amazon Kindle and CreatSpace

A while ago, I put my first short story, To Light and Guard, up on Smashwords. I did it mostly as a learning experience, and haven’t done much to promote it. I wanted to learn how to format a story to upload, and how all the technology worked. That’s much more easily done with a 3,000 word short than an 80,000 word novel!

To round out my education in the technology realm, I just last week got To Light and Guard for sale on Amazon. The process was much the same as Smashwords, just slightly different formatting rules. So now my story is available on both major self-publishing platforms, and available for all ebook formats, including PDF. (A Kindle-friendly file is also available through Smashwords, but the only way to get it listed on Amazon is to either sell more than $2,000 worth of the book or post it directly, as I did.)

The process on both was relatively painless, as long as you are able to read directions and pay attention to details.

I am now embarking on my first print-on-demand project—a genealogy book through Amazon’s CreateSpace. I am still in the process of learning how to format the book properly, and I am sure much tinkering will be required until I get it looking the way I want.

I probably chose a difficult book to start with, because mine includes photos and other non-text illustrations. This interrupts page numbering and makes things a little more complex. But it’s coming together.

I was slightly disappointed in the limits of size and lack of choice in paper type on CreateSpace—I was hoping for a slightly larger than 8.5 x 11 book, but in the end that size might be a blessing in disguise since all my pages are already 8.5 x 11. As long as I get the margins right, that might actually make it easier. I had also hoped that I could specify that the photo pages be on heavier, glossy paper, and the rest on regular stock, but I so far do not see that as an option.

The book is nearly done the preparation stage, and then I will upload it to CreateSpace and finish the process. I am eager to see it all put together and get an author copy to hold in my hands. This book represents years of research, and I hope to get it into the hands of other researchers who can use my work as a stepping stone for theirs. I know how excited I always was to find that someone else had done meticulous research on my line, and that I did not have to re-invent the wheel. I want to give that same thrill to other researchers!

I’ll let you know how the CreateSpace experiment works out. One thing is for certain—I am learning a lot!

Have you ventured into self-publishing? What has your experience been?

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Top 10 Goose’s Quill Posts of 2013

Top 10 Goose’s Quill Posts of 2013

It’s always interesting to see which posts struck chords with people over the year. Surprisingly, the most popular posts were evenly split between writing and life. Enjoy!

10. The Monkees Came To My Town

9. A Mile in My Daughter’s Ears

8. Connecting the Dots: Meeting My Grandfather

7. The Internal Saboteur

6. The End of an Era: When Writing Mentors Move On

5. A Writer’s Thick Skin: Do We Need One?

4. Old Fashioned: Writing With Pen and Paper

3. My Biggest Takeaway: 2013 Philadelphia Writers’ Conference

 The top 2 posts are no surprise. The tragedy of my friend Kate Leong’s unexpectedly losing her 5 1/2 son, and the miracle response that followed his death still breaks my heart–while moving me to tears of joy at the strength and kindness of the human spirit.

2. The Gavin Effect: A Tsunami of Kindness

1. The World Lost a Superhero: Farewell, Gavin

 Happy 2014, everyone!

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When A Bridge Phobia Isn’t A Bridge Phobia

My earlier post about my growing fear of heights, particularly bridges, resonated with a lot of people. While I have always believed that this disorientation has a biological cause (since it happened gradually and I didn’t experience it when I was young), I couldn’t be sure. Because when you battle anxiety disorder (or any other mental issue where your mind betrays you on a regular basis), you start to second guess yourself, and wonder if it really is “all in your head.” (I hate that phrase, because even if it is “all in your head” the effects are still devastating and the battle to overcome the demon just as hard if not harder than a physical issue.)

So. I have always thought my problems might be physical, and this past week I went to my eye doctor. Since one of the coping mechanisms that seems to help with the bridge phobia is using the sun visor to cut off a large part of my field of vision, I wondered if it could be eye-related. So I asked the eye doctor. Turns out, she knew all about it from personal experience.

She said there are several biological roots of what I am describing (and that it is surprisingly common). One is an eye condition (which she checked for and I do not have). The others are a brain condition that is basically a migraine that makes you dizzy rather than causing a migraine headache. She has this condition, which manifests as unpredictable episodes, and can be so bad that she will actually fall down while standing perfectly still.

The third biological cause is ear-related. Sometimes it is inner ear, sometimes it originates in the Eustachian tubes. I believe this to be my issue, as my disorientation is highly consistent (not sporadic like hers), altitude seems to play a role, and I know your inner ear changes as you age. My eye doctor told me to see an ENT, and he will do a whole battery of vertigo testing to see what stimuli makes me disoriented, and the results will let them know the cause and point to a treatment.

My eye doctor said treatment can be anything from learning more effective coping mechanisms to physical therapy to medication. It depends on the root cause and the severity of its impact on your life.

I was thrilled to hear that I was NOT imagining this issue, and that there may be a way to rectify it! While I talked mostly about my fear of bridges, I also have trouble driving the highway, especially at night and/or in the rain, when visibility is poor. Also, the disorientation tends to trigger panic attacks, which then intensifies the disorientation, which then magnifies the panic, and so on in a vicious cycle. Finally, if this is an inner ear/Eustachian tube issue, it might explain why I have been having issues while flying. I am not actively afraid of flying, and the first few times I flew I had no problems. Yet over the past few years, as this disorientation has been growing, I have suffered massive panic attacks on almost every flight I took. The only exception was one flight where they must have gotten the cabin pressure just right, because takeoff did not involve all the ear-popping pressure changes one normally feels. And on that one flight, where my ears were not disturbed, I had no panic issues, no disorientation, nothing. Interesting, isn’t it?

Come the New Year, I will be making an ENT appointment. To think that I could once again cross bridges without fear, or not worry about when and where I drive, and fly without shaking the entire flight is almost too much to hope for. But the New Year is all about fresh starts, and this may be a whole new beginning in my life.

For those of you who let me know that you suffer similarly, perhaps this information can be the start of a whole new beginning for you, too.

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The Spirit of Christmas

There’s a lot of media frenzy surrounding Christmas. You’ve got some people offended by the use of “Happy Holidays,” because obviously that is a “War on Christmas” catch-phrase. Then you have some atheists screaming that “Merry Christmas” is offensive because obviously anyone who wishes them a Merry Christmas is trying to convert them or otherwise shove religion down their throat.

But those are the outliers. Most of us are in the middle, and recognize that people exchange these greetings as a way of wishing you good will, not for any other nefarious reason. I have often been wished a Merry Christmas, but I have also been wished a Happy Hanukkah (because many, if not most, Ganses in America are Jewish). I accept both with a “Thank you,” because I know that person is simply wishing me well. Happy Holidays does not bother me, nor would Happy Kwanzaa, because I know it comes from a good place.

I of course send Hanukkah cards to my Jewish friends, because I respect their religion as they do mine, but in my world, the spirit of Christmas is inclusive. Perhaps that is not orthodox doctrine, but I have my own ideas on religion. Christmas has always been my favorite holiday, and not because of the presents and music and decorations (although they’re nice, too!). It’s because I have always felt a harmony with other people during the Christmas season, a peace inside myself that I don’t often feel the rest of the year.

To me, Christmas is not about one religion. It’s about “Peace on Earth and good will toward men.” Note that the saying does not specify Christian countries only, or only Christian worshipers. I want all of us to have peace. I want all of us to share in good will and good fortune. My spirit of Christmas is inclusive, because in my eyes it is not truly the Christmas spirit if you leave anyone out in the cold.

I have been trying to teach my 4-year-old that Christmas is not about presents, but about bringing joy to other people. I honestly believe that. So when I wish someone a Merry Christmas, what I mean is, “I wish you and yours joy and health and love.”

So when someone wishes me Merry Christmas or Happy Holidays or Happy Hanukkah or Happy/Merry Anything Else, I take it as it was meant—and I hope you will, too. It sure makes for a brighter and happier holiday season.

So, Merry Christmas from my family to yours, and may your New Year be happy and healthy!

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Dangerous Moments: Starting, Stopping, and Turning

Driving through a snowstorm on Sunday, I was reminded that the most dangerous moments of driving in snow were starting, stopping, and turning. When going straight at a steady pace, everything is okay (as okay as it gets driving in a snowstorm).

And, during the two and a half hours I was on the road, I got to thinking that those three moments are the most dangerous times for writers, too.

Starting is hard. We face that blank page (a lot like a snowy whiteout!) and press the accelerator. Sometimes our wheels spin for a while before we find traction in the story. Sometimes we slip a bit and get off-track immediately.

Stopping can be worse. We get to the end and try to wrap things up, but instead slide into a ditch or spin out into someplace we didn’t want to go. Our endings can run away with us, or they can drag out because we subconsciously don’t want to leave this world we created. And when we do manage to end, we can often feel lost or disoriented, not sure where the road forward is.

Turning is scary. Changing directions in our writing, whether within a work or trying something new, can cause us to fishtail, flailing wildly to try and find our footing. Intersections are often slushy, churned with confusion. It’s hard to find that new direction.

The most dangerous moments in writing, and in life, are those moments of momentum shift. It’s easy when everything’s going straight and steady. But throw in a new start, a stop, or a turn? It’s so easy to lose control. So easy to crash. So hard to recover from a crash. So terrifying.

So we’re tempted to just keep going straight.

It’s safer.

But sometimes we need to drive through the storm. Sometimes we need to risk the starts and stops and most of all the turns. We need to push on. Because you know that wonderful feeling you get once you see your destination through the snow? When you climb out of your car and rush into the warm, inviting house and suddenly everything is right with the world?

That’s what’s on the other side of the storm.

So drive.

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The Lost Art of Paying Attention

I’ve forgotten how to pay attention. Not how to concentrate, but how to notice things. I am often reminded of this by my preschooler, who notices everything. In my hectic adult life, running here and there, always with a To-Do list in hand, always multi-tasking, I no longer see what’s around me. I no longer live in the moment. I no longer pay attention.

Sometimes, though, an event happens that forces me to pay attention. To see. To hear. To feel.

I came out of the library the other day, and a huge flock of birds blanketed the scenery. The ground, the trees, the bushes, all wiggled with black bodies constantly flitting, shifting, trading places. The noise hammered at me—screeching, cawing, cackling. Enough to make my ears ring.

Then a strange silent boom echoed through my body, and the world muted. Silence as deafening as the previous noise wrapped around me. In a second, the silent birds took to the air, hundreds of them in perfect synchrony. Thousands of feathers slapped the air with a thwip, thwip, thwip, and a rustle like silk whispered on the wind. The air pressure changed, pushing down on me as the flock flew just feet over my head.

Wheeling, angling, swirling in the air like a living kaleidoscope, the birds slowly dwindled to dots, disappearing into the heavens.

A wondrous event.

It may not sound like much—a flock of birds flying away—but I had never before felt and heard their flight. Never noticed all the details—unable to, really, since I usually saw this flock through the windows of my house, safely disconnected from the outside world.

In that moment, engulfed in the birds’ takeoff, I knew what it must have been like years ago, when enormous flocks of passenger pigeons literally blotted out the sun, or infinite streams of waterfowl flew the flyways. I connected not just with today’s nature, but with the past. The birds carried me outside of time, outside myself.

It would have been so easy to miss, to have been so lost in my own thoughts as to ignore them. But that silent boom, whatever it was, grabbed me and made me pay attention.

I need to pay more attention.

Not just because paying attention to the details of the world around you is a necessary skill for a writer, but because it is necessary for really living life. I have always lamented that I don’t have a fantastic memory. But maybe it’s not my memory that’s bad.

Maybe I just haven’t been paying attention.

What about you? Have you ever had a moment that is seared into your soul, a moment when you felt more alive than ever before?

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Crossing Bridges

I never used to be afraid of heights, but as I got to around 30, I started feeling disoriented when up high. Not spinning dizzy like true vertigo, but unstable and with the overwhelming certainty that I would fall. For a person who used to crawl around amongst the lights high above the theater stage, and shoot video from ladders and often-rickety press boxes, this was disturbing.

Nowhere else in my daily life does this impact me more than when I have to drive across a bridge. Most bridges terrify me. I am not talking about butterflies in the stomach. I am talking about my heart pounding so hard I can hear the blood in my ears, my throat so constricted I can’t swallow while feeling like I’m going to throw up, hyperventilating or forgetting to breathe at all, and my thighs shaking like I’m freezing while my face is burning red hot—all at the same time. The anxiety over crossing the bridge is amplified by my body’s out-of-control betrayal.

So, yeah, it’s a problem.

The disorientation is worst at night. When I am out on the bridge, I simply get lost in space. Although my logic knows that if I keep straight in the lane, I will safely cross the bridge, I get a physical sensation as if something is pulling me toward the edge. I irrationally fear that someday my brain will “give in” to this imagined pull and I will allow myself to steer over the edge. Again, my logic knows I will not (since I am fully aware of what is happening), but this irrationality is part of the panic response.

The other day I had to come home from Delaware at night, and I had to cross a bridge. I knew the fear was getting the better of me when I actually considered driving an hour out of my way to take a route that would cross a bridge that did not scare me. I convinced myself that 5 minutes of terror was smarter than an extra hour of driving. So I crossed that bridge when I came to it.

I have several methods of forcing myself across a bridge. If the fear isn’t too bad, I sing. The music is relaxing, and it forces me to regulate my breath, thus avoiding hyperventilation. When the panic is at its height, my brain goes deathly silent and I cannot bring any songs to mind. Then I talk my way over the bridge. Another mechanism is putting the sun visor down (even at night) because cutting off parts of my peripheral vision seems to lessen the disorientation. A third coping skill is “hooking,” where I “hook” the tires closest to the center of the bridge over the dotted white line. Yes, this does put me a little in the other lane, but it somehow decreases that physical feeling of being pulled toward the outer edge of the bridge. I only do it when I think it will not impede traffic—or when the panic is so bad I have to use everything.

This night I couldn’t find any music in my head (“Danny Boy” had gotten me across going down to Delaware earlier). I put down the sun visor, white-knuckled the steering wheel, managed to find a tar strip down the center of the lane closest to the middle of the bridge to “hook”, and talked myself across: “You can do it. You can do it. You can do it.” Over and over.

And then I was across.

The reason for this long tale? Because we all have bridges to cross in life, and many times it’s scary. Even when what’s on the other side is a goal we have worked toward, a life we have dreamed of, or a person we love, crossing that bridge can seem a terrifying task. We fear the disorientation, the possibility of crashing off the edge before we reach the other side. But if we really want what’s waiting for us on the other side, we have to find a way to cross.

Today, on Thanksgiving, I want to thank all the people in my life—colleagues, friends, and family—who have helped me cross myriad bridges, both real and metaphorical. I would not be where I am without each and every one of you, and I am grateful.

If you’re facing a bridge you’re afraid to cross, remember: What’s on the other side is worth the fear. You can do it.

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone.

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