I’ve written, I’ve edited, I’ve done flyers and newsletters and blog pages and various other forms of distributing the printed word. How hard could it be to compile a book, a memory keepsake, from a family reunion? It would be a personal challenge, and a little stimulation would do me good. Might learn something along the way.
Big understatement. I learned a lot, only some of it useful. But in the interest of possibly saving someone else from trying to re-invent the printing press, let me share some pointers I gleaned in the process.
The Object was to be a tribute to our parents, both of whom have been dead for decades. It would prod us six siblings to reminisce about our childhoods and also to give our children and their children a glimpse of their lineage and the grandparents they never knew. Each of us six wrote essays about our memories. My job was to edit, format for continuity, and sprinkle with old photos from our respective family albums. Mixed with the essays were action and family group photos of the reunion that took place over the Fourth of July weekend in Utah.
The Obstacles began with my own technical limitations. With a print run of 25, I couldn’t afford professional help. But the POD (print on demand) company I’d selected through their website advertising made it appear that help was at my fingertips, should I have questions somewhere along their simple four-step process. What I found were links—lots of links—to long explanations that somehow brought me back full circle to the screen where I started. The “contact us” link was the killer. They had no help line, no phone number listed at all. Answers to an emailed question took three days. Lesson 1: If you don’t want to burn out climbing the learning curve, don’t start at the bottom. Ask for help from a friend or other resource such as Kinko’s or a neighbor teen before attempting a project.
The book needed to have high-quality pages for color photos. The POD publisher offered photo books, cook books, and not much leeway beyond their own templates. I could have altered my vision of what the finished product should be and used their format, or I could look for an alternative. Scrapbook software wasn’t the answer either. Finally, in frustration, I turned to our local office products store, Staples, that offered an array of publishing options. It wasn’t as cheap, but the ability to explain face-to-face what I wanted seemed worth it. I handed over my thumb drive, a total mock-up I’d done on our printer, and verbal instructions. Lesson 2: There might be more than one right answer.
By this time, it was the end of July and I was tired of the project. I just wanted to have it done before leaving Utah and returning to Hawaii. Ms. Staples had assured me that the formatting help—in India—would have a proof copy by Monday. After I approved it, they would turn it over to the printer—in California—who would have finished product in my hands by Friday. I could distribute most of them before our flight the following Tuesday morning. To shorten the story, they didn’t deliver on time as promised. And in my rush to meet this schedule, I didn’t proof as carefully as I should have. When the books arrived, I was hugely disappointed with the cover but accepted them “as is” rather than insist on better quality and then deal with a reprint long distance. Even the toddlers have five o’clock shadow. Lesson 3: My deadline was really artificial. I should have taken more time, had them shipped to Hawaii, and asked for the photo to be lightened to look just like the proof copy I had approved.
The Outcome is a book that my extended family likes and I hate. Every time I pick it up, I remember weeks with the rough draft spread across the carpet as I made certain the odd and even pages backed up correctly. I see the great photos that didn’t make the cut. And I see that cover, not as it is but as it should have been: a full bleed photo that wrapped beautifully. Lesson 4: As your own worst critic, learn to keep your mouth shut rather than point out the flaws. No one else knows or cares about what might have been, could have been. Practice saying, “Thank you. I’m glad you like it.”
Lesson 5: Learn to like it.
