Have You Ever Regretted Buying a Book? Why?

The purpose of the meme is to help fellow bloggers avoid book buying mistakes, a laudable goal. One caveat, though: just because I didn’t like a book doesn’t mean you won’t love it. We all have different tastes and different levels of knowledge.  Mig found Small Is the New Big by Seth Godin a waste of time and money. She writes:

Nothing Seth writes about is new under the sun. Literally nothing.

However, she also says:

If you are an experienced marketer, the book will be a bore, and a huge disappointment.

I haven’t read the book and Mig doesn’t make completely clear, but perhaps someone new to marketing would find the book helpful. So when reading my (or anyone else’s) opinion, remember that your experience, knowledge, and interests are different than mine. Weigh those factors when deciding if you would have the same reaction to the book.

I must confess that the books that have disappointed me the most have been the classics. I always think I should love the books that have stood the test of time, but often I don’t.

The lastest disappointment was The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde. This is a novel I thought I should have read years ago but never did. When I finally tried, I disliked the story so much I quit reading after a couple of chapters. I guess I have no patience with hedonism. The characters had no redeeming value as far as I could tell, and reading the story was a bore and a waste of time.

Have you read The Picture of Dorian Gray? What was your reaction?

You could win a $50 Amazon.com gift certificate from Mig if yours is the most interesting entry before the end of January 2009. Read the the rules of the meme at Don’t Buy That Book Meme and write about the book you regret buying.

I’m a little confused about the meaning of honest scrap, but perhaps it refers to an honest “detached piece of something written or printed.” Recipients are supposed to tell ten honest (and interesting) things about themselves, so perhaps each thing is a scrap. I can come up ten honest things, but you’ll have to be the judge of whether they’re interesting.

1. When Jack and I went through premarital counseling, the priest cautioned me that I would likely spend years of my life caring for my nearly-14-years-older husband in his old age. In fact, Jack had to care for me when I had a stroke at the hands of a chiropractor at the age of 45.
2. My fingernails are like my father’s, which means they’re usually broken off at the quick. I don’t bite them—I just break them.
3. Although I never lost my faith, there were several years that I didn’t attend church. Once I started back, I got involved in a big way and have continued to be very active for the past 12+ years.
4. My mother used to say, “I know I taught you to cook. Now all you do is put something in either the microwave or the crockpot.” I mentioned that to my sister recently, and she said Mama is probably looking down from Heaven and saying the same thing.
5. I used to do a lot of public speaking and have spoken to groups as large as several thousand. At one convention I spoke at, I acquired a groupie, a guy who followed me everywhere I went picking my brain about interior landscaping (the topic of my speech).
6. I was healed of a seizure disorder by prayer. I’ll write about it someday.
7. When I was younger, I used to be a meticulous housekeeper. Now my house hasn’t had a spring cleaning in many, many springs.
8. My grandmother used to say I “couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket.” Since the stroke, I can’t even sing off-key without starting to cough.
9. I am incredibly blessed to have been born of amazing parents with wonderful siblings and to have been married to a loving and supportive husband for nearly 42 years.
10. I found my job as an employment counselor rewarding, and I enjoyed owning an interior landscape company for nearly 20 years. However, nothing compares to being able to make a living doing what I love (writing, editing, and helping other writers). And to top it off, I get to entertain myself and make friends around the world with my blog.

Now I’m supposed to pass the award on to seven bloggers. Though my original list had more than seven names, I narrowed it down to meet the criteria of the award. I’m selecting people whose honesty and willingness to “tell it like it is” I respect. Not all of them will choose to respond. Being honest enough not to respond if they prefer not to will simply reinforce my recognition that they deserve the Honest Scrap Award.

• Catherine Lawson
• Jason A. Clark
• Karen Swim at Words for Hire
• Lori Widmer at Words on the Page
• Matthew Keegan
• Mihaela (Mig) Lica at e-Writings, Online Public Relations
• Renae Brumbaugh @ Morning Coffee

1. I wrote Dream or Destiny ten years ago and had an agent trying to sell the book for two years.
2. After I ended my relationship with the agent, I let the book sit around for a couple of years, then sold it to another publisher on my own.
3. Before the book was published, the publisher decided to focus on erotica, and I felt my book was no longer a good fit for that publisher.
4. After I cancelled the contract with that publisher, I let the book sit around for a couple more years, then sold to GASLight Publishing. Publication was delayed because of illness of GASLight’s principals.
5. When I updated the manuscript, I got input from several people (who are acknowledged in the book). Each person who read the book gave me suggestions to make it better.
6. I had to make revisions to account for changes that have occurred in society during the last ten years. For example, caller ID wasn’t common (maybe it didn’t even exist) ten years ago. Now I had to account for the fact that David and Marilee had no idea who made the threatening phone call they received.

I’m going to tag a few folks—if I’ve tagged someone who doesn’t participate in memes, just ignore the tag. Anyone who wants to play along is encouraged to do so. You can either write a post on your own blog or respond in comments. And you can tell six book-related things about you or six odd things about you. Or you can do like I did and tell six odd book-related things.

David Bowles at Writing the Westward Sagas

Grace Anne Schaefer at People of the Frozen Earth

James Doughty at Doughty Families

Jeanne Dininni at Writer’s Notes

Lisa Vella at Getting It Right for You

Pat Taylor at On the Wings of the Wind

To keep this relevant to my blog – and to come up with something that I haven’t shared in the above posts – I’m going to share 8 facts about my work habits and attitudes.

1. When I’m working on a project, I sit at the computer for hours on end to avoid interrupting the process – not good for arthritic bones! I’m trying to force myself to get up and move around at least once an hour, but I’m not doing a very good job of it.
2. Though experts in productivity often recommend you do the most important projects first, I work more efficiently if I first read my e-mail and do small tasks that may not be urgent but bother me if left undone.
3. Because of the odd hours I work, a client can send me a rush project at the end of her work day and have it waiting in her inbox when she starts work the next day.
4. Since I don’t like to talk on the telephone, I communicate by e-mail whenever I can.
5. I’ve been accused of being a perfectionist and a control freak, for which I plead the fifth.
6. My dream and fear is to get caught up on all my work: What would it be like to have few days with nothing to do? But what if those few days turned into an extended drought?
7. I seem to have missed the vocabulary lesson on the word “no.” When someone asks if I can do something, my automatic response if “of course.”
8. Taking Sunday off is a high priority for me though I work long hours the rest of the week.

Since not all bloggers participate in memes, I’m not tagging 8 people as the meme instructs. If you’d like to share 8 random facts about yourself, leave a comment so I can read your post.

[tags]meme, 8 random facts[/tags]

1. That one incident dramatically changed my life forever.
2. After fifteen years, I have the perspective of time and experience to see the lessons – and in this case the humor – that I couldn’t see at the time and that I may not see in my present circumstances.

This post is part of the group writing project: It’s Funny NOW, But Then …

Recently, I was chatting on the phone with a friend who had a stroke about a year ago. I have encouraged her by sharing my own experiences with her. She started laughing on the phone and said she just thought about the story I told about my MRI.

Back then, the hospital I was in did not have an MRI machine but used a machine that traveled from hospital to hospital in a trailer, sort of like a bookmobile except an MRI machine replaced the books. The MRI was due at the hospital a couple of days after I was admitted, so my doctor scheduled an appointment.

Two nurses’ aides showed up in my room with a gurney. I couldn’t do anything for myself at that point, and as heavy as I am, it took several people to transfer my dead-weight body from the bed to the gurney. The aides called for help and when help finally arrived, they transferred me to the stretcher. The other two people left, and the aides prepared to transport me to the MRI.

Oh, no,” cried one. “There’s no rails or safety belts on this stretcher. We can’t take her outside through the parking lot on this.”

“We don’t have time to change,” said the other. “You know how long it took to get help to put her on this one. We’ll be in big trouble if we’re late for the appointment. They schedule those appointments so close together, it’ll throw the schedule off for the whole day.”

“We’ll be in more trouble if she falls off on the way over.”

They debated back and forth for several minutes about whether they would be in more trouble if they spent the time to get more help or if they risked taking me outside on a gurney with no safety equipment. They never mentioned anything about the effects on me – only the trouble they would be in. I wanted to remind them that they were supposed to be concerned about the safety of their patient, but I still couldn’t communicate well enough to participate in the conversation. Finally, they decided the risk to them was less if they didn’t waste any more time.

So off we went, with the aides positioned in the way they thought would be best to catch me if I started falling. Through the door, bumping into the frame, down the hall, onto the elevator, down several floors, through the lobby, and out into a parking lot –a parking filled with potholes.

As we bounced along, the aides kept up a running conversation.

“Watch out!”

“Hold her – there’s a big one coming up.”

“I sure hope she doesn’t fall off.”

Although I couldn’t communicate, I certainly agreed with that sentiment!

Finally we made it through the first parking lot, across the street, and to the far end of the second parking lot where the MRI machine awaited us. I can’t really describe what it looked like, because I was flat on my back unable to see much except what was right in front of me. The MRI technician and the aides had to lift me a short distance into the machine … and then the pounding started.

If you’ve ever had an MRI of any kind, you know what I mean. Since then, I’ve had MRIs of various parts of my body, and I can assure you that a brain MRI is by far the most unpleasant. I’ve never been claustrophobic, but that experience just about made me that way. I couldn’t see anything, and the walls seemed to be closing in on me. Pounding, reverberation, clanging, rattling, banging … I thought it would never end.

Eventually, however, it did end, and it was time for the trip back to the hospital. As they lowered me from the MRI-mobile, I expected to land on a stretcher equipped for safety. After all, I’d been inside that metal cylinder being bombarded on all sides for nearly an hour, surely enough time for the aides to exchange the unsafe flat table on wheels with a gurney with side rails or safety belts … preferably both.

But no. As they started pushing me back across the parking lot, the two women continued the conversation as if there had been no interruption. About halfway across the lot, though, something changed. It started to rain!

“Oh, the pavement’s getting slippery.”

“Careful! She almost bounced off on that pothole.”

“Look, she’s getting all wet.”

“We can fix that.” The aide pulled the sheet that covered my body a little higher and covered my head.

“At least she won’t get too wet that way.”

“Yeah, but we’ll still in trouble if she bounces off when we hit these potholes.”

I lay there, covered from head to toe with a rain-soaked sheet, listening to the aides’ worries – not about me, but about getting in trouble – and praying for this to end soon.

The chatter of the two aides had distracted me from any other sounds in the parking lot, but after we crossed the street and were back in the main parking lot, I heard other voices.

“Oh, my gosh! Look – they’re carrying a dead body through the parking lot!”

“That poor lady.”

“Shh. Show a little respect. Stand still and be quiet till they get the body inside the hospital.”

Bouncing over potholes, hearing I might fall off the gurney, the horrendous noises, the claustrophobia in the MRI machine … all paled when I realized I wasn’t dead!

Although I said a prayer of thanksgiving that I was alive, the whole experience had been traumatic. Only after a couple of years did I begin to see the humor. Now all my husband has to do is pull the covers over my head and say “That poor lady” to get us both giggling like teenagers. The incident became one of the best scenes in my novel Stroke of Luck. I’ve laughed over the story with friends more times than I count.

It’s funny now, but then … it wasn’t!