Almost 15 years ago now, I finished my year-long fellowship in executive administration. The organization was reeling from the effects of a no-confidence vote, and the CEO was about to retire. Many of the executives were worried about losing their jobs or how things were going to pan out for them. They were also concerned about this merger organization and what would happen to it following what turned out to be a years-long battle. As a fellow, I was caught in the foray, tossed between executives, hoping and praying that someone would hire me, and worrying I wouldn't get hired at all. The President of the organization told people that "they just didn't have time to work with me," which was not a lie. He was in the office 80 hours a week dealing with this crisis. I was sending out resumes every day, and applying within the organization.
My fellowship ended, and I needed a job. I was single at the time, and I wasn't independently wealthy. After what seemed like months on the networking circuit, I was broke and still unemployed. I decided to start temping. Now, if you have worked with a temp agency before, you know they don't care too much about what your career aspirations are. They want to get butts in seats and make themselves money. Many, many, many of the temp assignments were far below my skill level, bored the ever living heck out of me, and made me wonder why I even went to graduate school. I had a better job than the temp assignments I was offered before I even went to graduate school. I was thinking about going back to work as a medical transcriptionist. I was treated like I was "dumb" and "nothing," not like someone who had an advanced degree. To make matters worse, the executives I had worked with were wondering...and I know because I heard it from other people...why I was taking these jobs. Some of them actually thought, or maybe ignorantly stated, that I wanted to be a secretary. Now, let me lay it down for you. I went to graduate school to be an administrator, not an administrative assistant. Like I said, I had to pay bills, though, so I worked in these low-level temp jobs. I worked in them until I couldn't stand the job anymore, and then I quit. Yep. I quit. Just like that.
One of these jobs was working for the corporate office of a large national retailer, which was in financial trouble and was subsequently acquired by another retailer. I was placed in the data entry department. I literally went through price lists every day entering them into the computer. I can't remember how much I made an hour. The manager tried to make me feel welcome, but all I could think was how I didn't go to graduate school for this. I kept my head down, kept to myself, went on with my work, and reminded myself that it was only a "temporary" assignment.
The job was mind-numbingly boring. Typing numbers all day every day. I will say at least I greatly improved my 10-key skills. Yes, that's a real skill that some people want to have. I later used that skill to my benefit in a data coordinator role. I was able to get reports out faster than anyone else and on time, especially in a crunch. I was a former medical transcriptionist, after all, and now I was a whiz at 10-key. Maybe I was going to be stuck in Secretaryville forever.
Since my job was so intellectually unstimulating, I had a lot of time to think about different things in life. I am usually kind of an existential philosophical thinker in my free time, why does this occur, how can this change affect the world, what is the meaning of life, what is the purpose of life, and what is my purpose in life. When I get really bored, my mind goes somewhere else.
That day, back in the retailer's corporate office's data entry room, I was bored, as usual. My life had gone from super exciting and full of promise to what-everyone-told me-I-was-going-to-be in a few months flat. My brain needed a little fun, apparently. That is when I came up with the story of "Cow In The City."
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On our breaks, we would listen to the radio and sometimes watch television in the break room. There was one woman in the office who was the news giver, as well. Please keep in mind that this story happens in the Midwest. Breaking news came on the television. Breaking news. Everyone was interested because usually breaking news means something serious. The breaking news was this...COW RUNS INTO MALL PARKING LOT. That's a true story. A cow had somehow jumped out of a truck and had run to the mall. I found the whole thing hilarious. So did my bored brain. That afternoon, as I sat keying numbers, the story of "Cow In The City" was formed in my head. I carried that story with me for nearly 15 years.
This past year, I decided I was going to finish a bunch of those projects that I started years ago. I have a baby quilt I have been cross-stitching. I've been working on it for so long that I think the baby I was initially going to give it to has since graduated from high school. Maybe she needs it in her dorm room. I don't know. Anyway, I decided to complete these projects. I had actually written them down because maybe I would get to them someday. Someday finally arrived, and I wrote "The Cow in the City" on a sunny, Sunday morning last summer.
Writing the book was the easy part because I had the story in my head for 15 years. That's a lot of time to mull over a short children's book and work out the details. It turns out that I had to work out fewer details because my children's book originally was too long. Finally, I whittled away until the book was only 33 pages, including the cover.
I originally had an illustrator lined up, but it didn't work out. So, I had to do the illustrations myself. For some people, drawing illustrations for a children's book would seem like a lot of fun. For me, it was like asking a fish to win a one-mile road race against a cheetah. In other words, I am not an artist, and the illustrations took me a long time to complete. Art was my least favorite subject in school. I was happy in junior high when we were no longer required to take an art class. I felt like the kid whose project was always messed up somehow. Come to think of it, I felt the same way when I took the organic chemistry lab. When you buy the book, please keep that in mind. I'm not an artist.
I initially tried drawing pictures free hand. Based on those drawings, I thought I might be better off hiring someone's five-year-old to draw the pictures for me. I didn't, don't worry. No child labor on my part. Instead, I went back to another skill I had learned years ago, before, during, and after my fellowship. A skill that I could take to the bank. It was drawing the illustrations on the computer. Remember, graphic design software isn't that old, but we have had Word for decades now. Yes, I am that old. I decided I could handle drawing the pictures on Word, so that is what I did. It took me more hours and teeth clenching than I would like to admit.
I had completed writing and revising the book, finished my illustrations, and published the book on Amazon using their new Kindle Kid's Book Creator. It's done. It's out there. I gave a big cheer to ME! Then, I realized the hard part is yet to come. I had to sell the darn thing. That's where I am today. Marketing and trying to sell copies of a children's book that came out of one day when a cow got away, and I was bored out of my mind. The moral of this story....there are too many to count. Don't take a job for which you are overqualified, keep in mind something is really temporary, ideas can come from the most random events, and finish your projects. But the number one takeaway I want you to get from this story is this...PLEASE BUY MY BOOK. It's for sale on Amazon.
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