Some Kind of Monster
We got in the car at 4pm on a Friday afternoon during rush hour. Chick-Fil-A was his choice for an early dinner, and then we hopped on a new highway that I thought was still a rumor from 15-years ago. They paved beautiful raw desert into more asphalt for our heat island and Google maps said it was the quickest way to the football stadium. I obeyed. Anything to avoid the I-10 through downtown Phoenix.
I’m not a fan of football stadiums, or of driving on new highways in rush hour, or even of Chick-Fil-A - but I was on a mission to see Metallica with my kid and to make sure we had a good time. They were playing a two-night Friday/Sunday stand with no repeated songs, and this was the first show. My husband was planning on taking him out to the stadium for night two.
Phoenix is a city of millions and the stadium is 40 miles away from my house. As we were walking up to the entry point amongst thousands of people, I saw someone I knew: Lisa Maria.
Lisa Maria was a regular patron at the library for the many years I worked there, introduced to me by a mutual friend - another mom I’ve known since our kids started a dual-language kindergarten program together ten years ago and who’s husband is a metalhead.
Lisa Maria worked with children and was in the youth library every so often and if we’d see each other we’d talk about life, music, and family. I haven’t seen her since before the pandemic, although we’re friends on Instagram and our kids go to the same high school.
Lisa’s brother is Jose Mangin, a SiriusXM host of a show called Liquid Metal and who is known throughout the metal community as “The Metal Ambassador.” He and Lisa grew up here in Arizona. He knows all of my Metal Blade friends and seems to be an all-around good guy, but after all these years, I hadn’t yet met him.
Anyways - out of all the times and entry points, we arrive in a stadium security line right behind Lisa and Jose - and of course I say LISA MARIA! And we squeal and hug and she introduces us to Jose. He knew all about my book, and he told me that Brian Slagel, my old boss, was attending the show that night. (if you’re new here or haven’t read my first book, I was Brian’s executive assistant for a year or so in the early 1990’s.)
I hadn’t talked to Brian since April, and I’d been meaning to reach out but it was a busy week, and I thought, hey, maybe I’ll just run into him. It’s happened before. We’ve stayed in touch over the years, and we’ve had a few adventures - hockey games, various shows. Brian used to have a house here in Phoenix, and he travels constantly, so it’s no surprise that he came in for Metallica.
Brian knew Metallica before they were Metallica. They appeared on Brian’s first Metal Massacre album - the compilation of local LA bands that launched Metal Blade Records - and Metallica, for that matter. He writes all about it in his book.
So, I texted Brian and we met up on the main concourse to say a quick hello. He was with his good friend, Chris Santos, who runs Beauty & Essex in Los Angeles. We chatted for ten minutes while Mammoth was onstage, and I can’t say I wasn’t proud to introduce Brian to my handsome child, who talked Metallica with him.
James, my son, is named after my husband, and both of our uncles, AND both of our grandfathers, but I used to joke to people that I’d named him after James Hetfield, me being a metalhead and all. It’s not true, but it kind of is.
The name carries a lot of energetic weight in the family, and I’m glad my son has it. It’s an ancient name, a powerful name, running in our bloodlines. All of the men he’s named after are good, strong, caring men - and I’ve always adored Hetfield as an artist
We made it to our seats for Pantera, who looked great with Zakk Wylde and Charlie Benante. Unfortunately the sound was bad where we were and I could barely tell which song they were playing until Rex Brown put on a cowboy hat and I knew they were playing Cowboys From Hell.
After Pantera, we met up with my dear friend Kathy for a quick hello between sets.
Kath and I have been friends since we were in English class together in the 8th grade in Ohio, like, 40 years ago. One of my formative friends. My bestie. Lucky for me, she moved to Arizona shortly after I did, and we’ve just maintained our friendship for all these years which is such a huge blessing. * Love you, girl. * Anyways, she and her husband and two sons were sitting not too far away from us at the stadium.
Kathy saw Metallica in 1986 opening for Ozzy Osborne (with Jake E. Lee), and we saw Metallica together in 1988 on the …And Justice For All tour (with Queensryche opening, supporting their Operation Mindcrime album - OH MY HEART), and she was at the last Metallica show I attended at Polaris Amphitheater in Columbus in 1994.
(We might have even gone together to that show, but all I remember is that the line of cars to get into the venue was so long and I had to pee so frightfully bad that I exited the car with a coupla of McDonalds napkins and ran into the woods so I could find mercy on a tree stump.)
I’m sure she’s seen them a couple of more times that I can’t remember.
So, we took pictures - my oldest dear friend, and our tall teenage sons, the next generation of rockers - all wearing Metallica t-shirts, all super-stoked to see the show.
The show was terrific, of course. Maybe a tad short and a little bit “off”, but still awesome. My kiddo was stoked.
It was great to see Lisa Maria and to finally meet Jose, awesome to see my old boss Brian, and to meet Chris, and totally wonderful that my dear friend Kathy was sharing the Metallica experience with her kids, too.
As I was sitting in traffic getting out of the stadium, I realized that the whole evening was a massive timeline convergence. A quantum entanglement of people representing my past, my present, and the future. I love when that happens.
Most importantly, though, James had a great time.
Unfortunately, the other James, the one onstage, was apparently sick, cut the set by two songs, and tested positive for THE VIRUS the next day which postponed the Sunday show until the following Saturday which messed up a lot of plans.
Of course, my husband was out of town so I ended up back at the stadium again with my kid. Not a hardship, but still an effort. This time we had tacos for dinner, and Metallica was SPOT ON and sounded great.
I love a good metal show, loved sharing it with my boy, and I absolutely adore a good quantum entanglement. Makes the world sparkle a little more, I think.
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A while ago, I had the idea that if I was going to continue to self-publish, I would want to create a small publishing entity for business and financial purposes.
I also thought, possibly, that I could help other writers publish their stuff, too.
Over the past two years, I’ve had a few coaching clients who have been traditionally published in the past, finding themselves not able to find a publisher for their latest projects - and they aren’t alone.
I follow enough writers on social media to know that even good writers with great projects who have published multiple books are suddenly finding themselves without representation, and are querying HUNDREDS of times for a bite, a nibble. Agenting is a real mess from what I’m seeing.
The publishing contracts and money offered to writers is structured differently than before, too. Harder to obtain advances, and the contract money is now paid in 4th’s and 5th’s, instead of thirds, so it’s taking much longer for writers to get paid.
Not only are my clients discouraged at that door being so frustratingly closed, they are also completely overwhelmed at the thought of self-publishing. If you don’t have some technical basics, there is a learning curve. And it can be expensive.
For my first book, which took me seven years total to write, edit, and produce - I paid for it out of my pocket. I had a full-time income, and was able to work the expenses into my budget.
I paid for a writing coach, an editor (twice), a formatter for the interior of the ebook and the print book, and I paid a graphic designer for the cover art, front and back. I paid a former agent for a full beta-read and advice (not worth it.) I subscribed to multiple services - Wordpress, Canva, BookBub, Adobe to handle different functions. I subscribed to multiple industry newsletters. I paid for the ISBN numbers and advertising and marketing, plus a couple of refurbished computers as cheap as I could get to do the writing tasks.
All total, it was about $4500. Spread out over the years, it’s not too bad. But more important than the money I spent, I learned the process of self-publishing. I’m fortunate that it wasn’t a huge learning curve for me. I know I still have a lot to learn, but I was able to produce my second book entirely on my own.
Recently, I revisited the thought- of creating a small publishing entity for my own work, with the possibility of helping other writers publish their books. I registered the name with the state, reserved a domain name, created a logo - and since doing that, like magic, I’ve had two projects come into my orbit that I’m really excited about.
They just showed up out of the blue, writers with good projects that need a home.
As of right now the first book project with a really fun and talented writer is looking like a late-Spring/early Summer 2024 release. It’s music related, super-timely and I think it’ll be a great collaboration. I will share more details with you as it progresses.
Bibliozona Books. That’s what I’m calling it. Books + Arizona. A name that came to me in a dream 15 years ago, that I used for an email address for a decade. Now it’ll be its own entity: the home of my books as well as a few more projects that align to my vibe. Memoirs, rock n’ roll stories, pop-culture and non-fiction?
Yes, please!
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It’s hard, writing a memoir.
Things come up you weren’t expecting, or that you were avoiding.
Things you thought you could write around, or just touch upon. Things that you may have already touched upon, but you realize that you need to do a whole lot more work. Work, not just necessarily for the book itself, but because you’re a human being.
When I first started drafting Library Confidential, I knew I’d have to deal with the topic of breast cancer at some point. It was the catalyst for a whole series of events and realizations. It impacted my career, my family life, my priorities. Everything. It still affects me to this day.
I’ve had many people ask me if I’m going to write a “cancer memoir” - and to be honest, that sounds completely awful to me. Not my intention. But, I do feel obligated to address it somehow, and I guess I’ll have to do that in this book.
It’s an essential part of the Library Confidential story - but it’s not the entire story.
I’m wondering if I can even tell the entire story in this memoir. Some of it will work better in the safety of a fictional screenplay where I can be a little more vicious and bitchy and truthful without hurting people, or getting sued.
That’s another issue, I guess.
Life can be beautiful and brutal at the same time. It’s messy and hard and gorgeous and heartbreaking and exhilarating and absolutely dire.
Bad, sad shit happens to every one of us at some point. A cancer diagnosis at age 44? With two small kids? It’s a rough experience. It was my wilderness adventure, so I put my boots on.
I had no choice - I had to lean into it. Millions of people deal with it every year, and I’m not special in that regard. I feel extremely blessed to have had a terrific and loyal support system.
And look, cancer and other awful diagnoses, chronic health issues, childhood trauma, grief - I’ve always encouraged creatives who think they might need therapy to try it out - because I KNOW FOR A FACT it helps people.
I just never thought it would help me.
I already knew what my problem REALLY was. I wasn’t writing. I wasn’t doing my work. I wasn’t creating. It was a slow kind of madness. It still is, sometimes, when I get stuck or interrupted.
Instead of therapy, I found a writing coach when I was drafting the last memoir. Another writer who acted as my sounding board and a non-judgy safe person when I’d bring up the deep dark memoir stuff. It was exactly the kind of creative medicine that I needed - talking to another writer who understood my language and my metaphysics. She held space for me as I walked the memoir path, and it was absolutely essential to my process.
I know many of my readers, many of you, want to write a book or a memoir, but are fearful. How to do it? How to structure it? How to dig up the old bones? There is always a lot of fear to face head-on when examining and sharing parts of yourself.
But I’m telling you: You can do it. If it calls to you, you can do it. When you are aligned and doing higher work, the questions answer themselves, and the right people show up. But you have to trust the process, and do the work.
Run towards the fear. Face it. Name it. Transmute that bad shit into something better. Put it to work. Make it of service. Make something helpful. Something pretty. Something to share with others who might find it useful, amusing, or comforting. Release it from your energetic field better than it found you.
I think the key to it is being as clear and as authentic as possible.
Authenticity vibrates high, High, HIGH on the energetic scale. Truth resonates on a frequency right up there with Love.
Authenticity. Truth. Love. The healing frequencies.
Operating from that level and writing as true and clear as possible heals both the writer - and the reader.
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Over these past few weeks, I started looking at my journals from the cancer experience, and I started drafting. Not sure yet how much to share here, how much to keep private until the book, but it can’t go unwritten.
I have to explore what it really was, that massive, horrible, beautiful experience that was breast cancer. Some of it was sad. Some of it was scary. Some of it was downright funny.
And as I look back on it and examine the whole of it - it turns out that what I thought was some kind of monster in a deep dark forest was actually a guide, leading me to the place I belonged all along.
Which is right here, right now, with you.
It’s a miracle, really, so thank you.
With love and until next time…
AMO
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