This is Where it all Began

By Andrew E. Kaufman

A long time ago (very long) in a land far away (well, not so far, really) there was a little boy named Andrew (that’s me), who always felt he had so much to tell the world. The problem was, as often happens with toddlers, not much of what he said made a whole lot of sense, and as also often happens with toddlers, when the audience grew thin, it only intensified his determination to spread The Gospel According to Andrew. In other words, Andrew was a chatty little boy. In other words, you couldn’t shut him up, even if you wanted to.

I guess you could say I developed a bit of a complex over this.

Then one day, my grandmother sealed the deal when she bought me my first book. It was called Nobody Listens to Andrew, and besides the fact I was sure it was written exclusively about me, and besides the fact that it trumpeted my tragic story, I also discovered something else very important: the true value of the written word.  

 

After that, I was unstoppable.

I became obsessed with that book to where I’d make my grandmother read it to me every night. I’m pretty sure I had it memorized word-for-word—I’m also pretty sure she did, too, even though she probably wished she hadn't

Eventually, I moved on to other great literary works. I think Curious George came next, and after that, I developed a penchant for the Dark Side with Where the Wild Things Are. Needless to say, a thriller writer was born.

By then, I was pretty confident I knew what my path in life would be. I would someday write The Great American Novel—you know, much in the tradition of Nobody Listens to Andrew and the like.

The point of all this (I know you were probably wondering if there was one) is that, as writers, we all come from the same place. We have stories to tell and an intense desire to share them with the world, and while we’d love to make a living at it, most of us would still tell our stories anyway, because really, it’s not about numbers—it’s about The Journey, the unmitigated joy we feel each time we open a blank page and watch our imaginary worlds come to life. That’s where the magic begins.

I think on an intellectual level we know that, but on an emotional one, we often forget it. We become obsessed with sales rankings, reviews, how many Facebook likes we have, and lots of other silly things that in fact have nothing to do with why we became writers in the first place.

We forget what's really important.

The moral of Andrew's story, and maybe yours too, is that whether you sell a lot of books or you don’t, success is only fleeting if you define it within those parameters. But if you don't, there’s one thing that nobody can ever take away, and that one thing is your love for the written word.

And because of that, no matter what, you will always be successful.

Listen to Andrew. The dude knows.

Pilcrow A-Go-Go

Or, How to Make Paragraphs Without Really Trying.

A prospective client wrote recently, inquiring about conversion services, sending first one manuscript, then, immediately upon its heels, a second, which, she asserted, she had “cleaned up” to get the best quote. I wasn’t quite sure if I’d seen her cleaned edition, so I asked her how I would recognize it—how I would distinguish it from the first. She replied: “the last one had most of the paragraph reversed P's removed.”
And I muttered to myself “OhMosesOnAPony, I certainly hope not.”

I debated upon naming this post, “Pilcrow, Friend or Foe,” because so many people seem to do battle with this wee symbol, not understanding its function in the hierarchal and layout kingdoms of word processors. The Pilcrow (etymology utterly unknown other than ME) means nothing more than “paragraph,” and for those of you who’ve never dared turn on “Show/Hide Formatting” in Word or its equivalents, looks like this:

...and all it means is that this mark distinguishes the end of one paragraph, and the beginning of the next. Simple, elegant...and utterly frustrating if you've never learned how to see it or use it.

How do you get to see this in your own documents? Simply select “Show/Hide” if you’re using Microsoft Word (click the pilcrow on the menu); “View->NonPrinting Characters” or CTRL-F10 in Open Office’s Writer program; and WordPerfect has always had Reveal Codes (and it’s probably still F3). Why do you want to see it? To save yourself hours of hair-pulling and frustration.

An excellent resource--and one I cribbed from shamelessly for this post--is this column on Paragraph Essentials from the Microsoft Office site: Paragraph Essentials. (Seriously: bookmark this article. I'm also recommending the two videos we show in our Tutorials and Videos section on our new Knowledgebase: Knowledgebase Here.) As the Microsoft article mentions, almost every document is in three major components: font, at the lowest level; paragraphs, at the core, and sections, at the top-most level. But what really drives the bus, for the vast majority of the document, is your paragraph, and its formatting. This is true whether you're using Microsoft Word, WordPerfect, Open Office, or Bob's Big Boy Word Processor.
Why does the pilcrow matter? Because the magical thing about the pilcrow is this: it can make or break your formatting; it can drive you crazy or make your typing life easier; it's essential when you're formatting a book for e-publication…and here's something you mightn't know: it contains all the formatting instructions for the paragraph that comes before it. How many times have you carefully formatted a paragraph, (maybe a diary entry that your detective discovers!), getting it just right, just so, go galloping on, typing away on the next bits of dialogue-then change your mind about something, wallop the "back" key with all your might-and your precious, carefully-placed formatting on that previous paragraph disappears?
Yes-all too often, I know. I've had it happen to me, more times than I'd ever care to admit. And what about all the times you carefully formatted that epigraph, or dedication-but when it came out, the lines broke in weird places? The same thing happens when those selfsame paragraph marks are inadvertently placed at the end of a line-not a paragraph, but a line-invisibly, causing broken paragraphs, because without the pilcrow visible, if that line just happens to be roughly the same length as the other lines in your paragraph, you may never notice, until it's too late. But if you turn on the Pilcrow, you can see those errors before they ruin your painstaking efforts.
It'll take more than 500 words to explain everything that's important about seeing the codes inside your documents, so I'll stop now, strenuously recommending that you at least watch the "Video on Word Styles" in our Tutorials and Videos section of our Knowledgebase at Booknook.biz (it's not really the shameless plug it seems-someone else did the videos), and next time, I'll try to explain how ignoring the pilcrow's superpowers can break your paragraphs, your document, and your spirit.

by Kimberly Hitchens ("Hitch)--founder and owner of Booknook.biz, an ebook production company.