In May, I finished editing the manuscript of my book and sent it off to a designer. Thus began four months of tweaking, editing, and proofing. It seemed to be taking so long that Howard Glassman, my Swing Thoughts podcast partner, was calling it “Project 2025.”
Dark and early last Monday, I looked at Amazon and there it was—Getting Unstuck: Seven Transformational Practices for Golf Nerds—live on Amazon with an active "buy now" bar. It was finally a book with a cover and real pages that could be held and read ... and purchased.
I thought of Gene Wilder in Young Frankenstein: “It’s … alive!”
It was a surreal moment. I think it’s partly because this book—my fifth—is personal; my first as a coach and a golfer rather than as a journalist.
I was excited, which to me is a combination of joy and fear; phew, it's finally freaking done, but also: “Holy shit! I have so much to do: write a release, finish a landing page, post to Facebook, and on and on. Ack! I'm already behind.”
I felt like a dozen frogs were doing calisthenics in my stomach.
Wait a sec. Wasn’t this supposed to my moment of exultation? Wasn’t I supposed to be whistling Zip-a-Dee-Doo-Dah as bluebirds alighted on my shoulders?
Instead, I was in familiar territory—wanting something so badly and then wondering “What the hell have I done … and why?” This was like nervously walking on the first tee of a tournament, or pacing backstage before giving a talk.
At these moments, my mind sputters: “I don’t want to do this. I want to sleep for three months. Let someone else do it. Someone qualified. How do I have the unmitigated gall to think I can do this?”
I sent a friend an email telling her that I was both happy and sort of scared. She responded: “The army of the alien thoughts has once again come up from the subconscious. As you know, that’s totally normal when we do something that feels risky.”
Indeed. I remember a university friend asking me how I could write in the student newspaper. “What if people don’t think it’s any good?”
That, as the saying goes, is an occupational hazard. Writing is, in a way, an act of arrogance. Inherent in the act of publishing is a belief that what you’ve got to say has value. That it’s worth someone’s attention, whether it’s to entertain, teach, provoke or do something else. Otherwise, why bother?
If you’ve been writing for a long time, you’re well past the stage where you’re like a sixth grader thrusting your hand up in class to show off that you know the right answer, and you thought of it before anyone else.
Writing a book is also humbling. You create something, throw it out there, and, well, who knows what’s going to get thrown back? Some people—you hope—will applaud it, some will say it’s OK, and some will say it’s a sin against humanity.
And how soon until all the embarrassing mistakes will be pointed out? Why didn't I fix the obvious hole in that chapter while I had the chance? When will The New York Times point out that the study I’ve used to illustrate a point has been debunked?
As I do just about every morning, I took Freddie—and the jumping frogs—for a walk.
The sky was a lovely uniform blue and the warm sun felt great on my back. I watched Freddie lope along, his shoulders doing their lovely little shuffling dance. We walked down a few streets in our suburb, and turned down on to a path framed by vibrant and fragrant wildflowers on both sides. I let Freddie off his leash and he did his thing, darting from smell to smell, occasionally stopping for a more intense inspection. We continued on the path between tall oaks and maples that formed a canopy over us. The leaves shimmered in shade and sunlight.
As sometimes happens, I said aloud, “Thank you.”
When I got home, I went into my office, and opened up the proof copy of the book that I’d received from Amazon. I read a few snippets from here and there. I had the same thought that I’d had a few times during proofing.
“I like it.”
I opened up my “book launch tasks” excel spreadsheet, and got to work.
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If you’re in the area, you are invited to a book launch celebration on Tuesday, October 1 from 7-9 p.m. at Blue Springs Golf Club in Acton, Ontario. Howard will be our entertaining MC. We'll chat about the origins and writing of the book, do a Q&A, and I'll have copies on hand to sign. It will be a lot of fun.
If you can’t make it, you could check out episode #271 of our latest Swing Thoughts podcast as we dive into the book, and some of his recent experiences with STDs (Swing Thoughts devotees).
I have a lot of friends who are over thinkers. Tim, I can honestly say you are overthinking royalty. Congratulations on the book.