I signed the contract for Cheapskate Computing on Feb. 17, 2010, which means I’ve been working on this thing now for 34 days. It’s due May 1, which is 39 days from now. I’m now working 6-7 days a week, eliminating my social life almost completely and making my boyfriend’s life kinda miserable because I’m just not that much fun to be around. (He says, “Good morning, sunshine.” I answer, “I can’t deal with that right now. Don’t you know I’m writing a book?”)

As of this morning, I’ve written (drum roll, please):

175 words.

Um. Yeah. You read that right. I’ve written 175 words of what will probably be 35-40,000. That means I’m about .05% finished with the writing. And that word count kind of includes the title.

I know. You’re thinking, “Holy crap, Ziesenis. What the hell have you been doing?” Believe it or not, I am exactly on schedule for this thing. For one of the first times in my life, I didn’t just jump into the middle of a project and start writing it from both ends. I created two databases (using low-cost favorite SurveyMonkey) to collect data from the owners of the free and low-cost tools. With the help of my assistant, I’ve contacted about 275 vendors of tools to ask them to fill out the survey, and so far about 75 people have provided clear, concise and critical data to allow me to write up their products. By Thursday I will identify all the important tools that have not yet filled out a survey, and my assistant will visit their websites to find the missing information to enter into the database.

Next week we will download the survey database and do a massive mail merge, placing each tool with all the supporting info on its own Microsoft Word page. The tools will have comments from friends, the descriptions I’ve already written on Cheapskate Freelancer (if available) and all the information I need to methodically clean up and finalize each entry. My writing retreat is the following week, and I’ll hunker down and plow through the tools one by one, then group them into chapters, create a quick reference guide for each chapter, then finalize. After I come back from my retreat, Claire and I have about two weeks to fill in the holes that I will inevitably discover.

I gotta tell you, I’m proud of myself for being this methodical. Usually I’d kind of panic and jump right in, taking one tool and trying to grab info from here and there and everywhere to get it onto one page. I know for a fact that this would take me much longer than the way I’m doing it, and it would be frustrating and exhausting, and I’d feel like I was making mistakes and leaving stuff out. When one paints a room, one should always take the extra time to prep the room by taping off the edges, laying down the dropcloth, moving the furniture. Usually I’m so excited that I just open the can (after barely shaking it, not stirring it) and dip a paintbrush and go from the closest wall right in the middle. Now I’m proud that I’m taking the time necessary to prep the room so that the next step goes easier.

Yet, I fear that the next step will be harder than I imagine. What if each page takes 20 minutes instead of 7? What if the mail merge doesn’t work and I have to cut and paste everything by hand? What if I haven’t left enough time? Or I have a breakdown, or ….

Yeah, well. I have to plan the work and work the plan, and, as of today, the plan is on schedule. As they say, that’s my story.

So, the contract is signed, and the book is begun. Holy smokes.

The entire manuscript, complete with hundreds of graphics, dozens of contributions and about 200 pages, is due to the publisher May 1. That’s 54 days from today. Before I begin writing, I have to collect and organize an insane amount of data. I’ve been very busy with inquiries to free and low-cost tool vendors to get them to fill out forms about their products, plus I’ve been querying professionals about their favorite tools. And did I mention I’ve yet to begin writing? And, for whatever reason, my phone has been ringing twice as much lately with new projects from existing and new clients.

The workload is overwhelming. I’m officially daunted.

Every single minute that I am not working means guilt (including now when I’m taking time to update the blog), but I’m being as proactive as I can possibly be. I put D.J. on notice that most of my workdays for the next few weeks are going to be long ones, and I’ll probably be working every weekend. I’ve canceled haircuts, put off health care appointments, turned down visits and trips with friends.  I’ve warned friends and family that I’m strung tighter than the strap on my g-string after holiday feasting. I’ve increased the cupcake budget, and I’ve hired a temporary employee to cut, paste, follow up on inquiries and organize while I continue writing my regular stuff. She starts tomorrow.

And I’ve taken an extra step, a crazy step, an indulgent step. I just made a reservation for my first-ever writer’s retreat — a week in a nice condo in Palm Springs, CA. My retreat costs almost as much as I will receive as an advance for this book, and I’ll lose my regular revenue because I’ll leave my day job behind. My inner accountant is screaming — this decision does not make financial sense in the slightest. It’s logical to visit either my friend who owns a farm in Iowa or a buddy who lives in a house in the woods of Oklahoma. Both of those locales are more than an hour from a Wal-Mart. But I need to keep weird hours, withdraw from society and be a bitch when necessary. I can’t afford to be friendly or social, and my friends are too wonderful to ignore like that.

D.J. is 1000 percent behind my decision. “This is one of the most important projects in your career,” he said, “and you have to make an investment in yourself to make this succeed.” He’s right. Yet. Still. Umm. That’s a lot of money, and what if I get there and see the blank document as a blank wall? I’ll have wasted all this money, put my clients on hold and will be utterly disappointed in myself.

When my friend Troy was writing his book, he locked himself in the family motor home for several days to work. And he succeeded. Frankly, I think I will, too.

I take that back. I KNOW I will succeed. I have to succeed, and I’ve laid the groundwork to do so. I just need to put in the hours, and I’m ready to crank.

54 days.

What could you accomplish if you REALLY kept your New Year’s Resolution? What if you just stuck to a plan until you achieved a life-long goal? How would this change your life, make you better, give you a sense of pride?

As we start a New Year, I think we need to consider making ourselves more accountable for the dreams we have, especially those we’ve always had. How long have you been telling yourself you would like to live a more healthy lifestyle? How many times have you started on the path, only to fall back into old habits? I would bet that each time you try and fail, you flog yourself internally. And the goal stays with you, haunting you even as you try to ignore it. What if you could accomplish that goal and leave that worry behind? What else could you accomplish?

I can’t tell you how long I’ve threatened to write a book. In my second-grade memory book, I wrote that I wanted to be a writer. That means I’ve been holding on to the dream for at least 34 years. It’s time to do something about it. So, I commit to giving it a sincere try.

For the past three days, I’ve been tapping the keyboard on my laptop at the kitchen table. I’ve got a great idea for a mystery series, and dammit, I’m going to get the words down on paper. Today I wrote answers to a series of questions about one of my main characters: where does she live? what does she look like? what does she eat? The more I write about her, the more I want to get to know her, to introduce her to my friends and family so they can enjoy who she is. I thought about her all the way to work this morning, mulling over what she might say if we met or how she might react to all the hardbodies I saw in the gym this morning. I’m actually looking forward to the next time I get to put her story on paper tomorrow.

I can tell you, though, that sticking to this goal is not going to be easy. Each day I’ve sat at the table and stared at the screen, fully convinced I have nothing to say. I’m positive that my dialog is stilted, that I’m relying too much on plot and not on characters, that I’m telling, not showing. I fret that I’m wasting my time because the publishing industry is stilted, and less than 4 percent of writers ever sell enough to write full time — and perhaps the real percentage is even smaller than that. What chance do I have of publishing? And if I do manage to find a publisher, what’s the likelihood that the book will actually become a success?

Logically, I should realize that my chance of being a successful author is so remote that I should drop it. I should concentrate on the status quo, which is actually pretty darn cool. I’m a successful freelance copywriter, a somewhat sought-after speaker and a helpful marketing hand when needed. Achieving what I have in this competitive realm is a rarity, but achieve it I did. So why mess with success?

Because the dream won’t go away. I can’t get it out of my head. If I don’t do it, I’ll drive myself mad. So, let’s hear your dream, your goal, your resolution. Step up with me to declare your dream outloud and COMMIT to making it happen. Because when we free up the energy we devote to worrying about whether we achieve this dream, who knows what we’ll have time for?

Leave your comments and COMMIT with me! We can do this together….

This morning I paid a visit to my friendly, neighborhood printing store (PB Printing), where Mario the manager was on hand to listen to my latest tales of printing mishaps.

“I have a business card crisis,” I announced. “I am trying to print my new cards with the new logo, and two printers have produced disappointing results. See, this one is too flimsy, and this one was cut too small. And I have 1000 of each! Don’t you think I need to redo them?”

Mario paused, thinking for a moment. “Yes, this one’s a little thin. And it’s so strange that these cards are so small, but honestly — and I don’t mean to talk myself out of a sale — honestly, you’re just being too picky.”

Too picky? Didn’t he see that the cards were not PERFECT? Couldn’t he tell that I was ready to pay yet more money to make everything EXACTLY the way I had imagined it?

Mario continued, “I know these little things mean a lot to you, but frankly, no one else will care. It’s a business card. It holds your information. These are both perfectly acceptable, and I’m sure you can think of better ways to invest in your business that will pay off more than this.”

Ahhh. Mario is indeed wise. Although my new business cards are not PERFECT, not one recipient would look at them and say, “Wow. Bad cards. I’m never calling her.” If I hadn’t talked to Mario, I would have gone to yet a third discount online printer to try to improve on the cards, and I would have ended up with another 1000.

Things I learned this morning:

1. Experts are helpful.
   Talking to Mario and benefiting from his years of experience, I saved myself time and hassle, not to mention more money. Thank you, Mario! (Plus, by talking me out of these cards, he probably earned himself another sale the next time I need to print something.)
2. It’s easy to lose perspective.
   As Mario pointed out — these are just business cards. You get them. You give them. Some stand out. Some don’t. It’s just no big deal.
3. Perfection is tough to find.
   The whole logo and site redesign started because I ran out of the old business cards. I needed to update my address and add other services to my site. Thus began a complete redesign that took several weeks, about a thousand bucks and a whole lot of worrying. And I had envisioned the perfect business card to be the culmination of my hard work.
4. Two thousand business cards is a lot.
   My original business card order in 2007 was for a thousand cards. It took me two years to give them all out. Now I have 2000 new cards. Anyone want one? Or a dozen?