Will you go to the prom with me? Please. Please? Will you? Will you? Huh? Huh?

Movies are filled with characters/nerds, who while they do eventually win out and get the girl, are frustrated by their lack of luck and the seemingly good fortune that befalls the good-lucking, letter-wearing, hardly-working-at-it-at-all, all purpose jock. Fairness does not enter into this discussion. Life is what it will be.

Persistence is their only weapon. And like the steady drip of water on a seemingly impenetrable surface, over time the small, nagging drops of water have their way. After time, the nerds do prevail. They do get to go to the prom. And sometimes they create things like Apple, so there is hope after all.

Persistence.

So it is with creating a book. Getting a date for the prom is akin, but on a much smaller playing field, to finding a publisher for your book. And even when that does happen, you’re not certain what kind of corsage to get or if you’ll even get a kiss goodnight. Ah, desperation!

So… you lucky guy, you’ve got a date for the prom (read this as publisher). There is so much preparation besides taking a shower and throwing on some Axe cologne. There is planning – dinner before or after?; get a limo or take the pickup truck; get a room (this is the 21st century after all, right?); and all that other stuff for which no one has prepared you.

That’s what it’s like. There is much editing to do of your seemingly “perfect” book. Then there’s the layout. Next comes proofing the galleys. More editing. Proofing again and looking at preview copies. With a photography book, the right paper has top be chosen along with a printer who understands what the images are supposed to look like. Proofing again, but now with image correction and printing adjustments. Oh, did I forget to mention this is all done on a predetermined budget?

Bringing a book to market is a daunting task. Bringing a photography book to market is even more so. Couple all of that with the PR aspect of promotion and such, and it might make one think, “Hmmm, that root canal is starting to look awfully good right about now.”

So that’s where I am now: standing at my date’s door, corsage in hand, breath mints swallowed, dowsed in cologne, waiting with expectation that she will indeed be there on the other side of the door when it opens. Ready with the corsage.

We don’t know what to expect but we’re optimistic. It’s not too unlike the line from Mel Brook’s movie, The Twelve Chairs: “Hope for the best, expect the worse.” Hmmm.

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