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Saturday, June 2, 2012

WHAT I LEARNED ABOUT SELF-PUBLISHING WITH XLIBRIS...The author must have nerves of steel...


To All Authors:
What I learned about self-publishing with Xlibris:
The author must have nerves of steel





People write for many reasons, and some take the next step and publish what they have written. I like to write children’s stories, and those close to me convinced me to publish them. It is nice to hold a printed book and see vibrant illustrations. The characters finally come to life!

All authors have the desire that readers will like their book and hold the hope that they will fly off bookshelves like hotcakes. I am not that naïve; I know the limits of self-publishing.
Self-publishing companies come to the rescue of authors who want to see their work published. They promise to publish books in a few months, and it sounds realistic and believable. After all, how long could it possibly take to make a decent children’s book with a dozen illustrations? Not that long, I was told when I originally researched self-publishing companies.

I read some negative reviews too. I thought these bad reviews were written by disgruntled people, authors who didn’t want to be involved in their projects. Publishers are not mind readers, and the authors must tell them how they envision their book. Little did I know that I would become one of those people—an author who would write an article, this article, because of a bad experience with a self-publishing company.

I’ve never considered myself a complainer, nor am I a quitter. I thought I could handle anything, until I started working with Xlibris’ representatives.
In January 2011, I decided to publish some of my stories, and after researching self-publishing companies, I contacted Xlibris. Their representative, who was a very good salesperson, convinced me to try Xlibris. Everything he said sounded promising, and after more research, I agreed and submitted my two manuscripts.
The first representative spoke with knowledge and confidence. I asked him to read my stories and give me an idea which package would be the most helpful. They were my first books, and as a beginner in the book business, I needed all the help I could get. In my wildest dreams, I would never have believed a self-publishing company could cause such nightmares and leave such a bad taste about publishing that I must share my experience with the public.

All my life I’ve run businesses, including my own, and for many years I’ve worked with the public. I am all business when it comes to making a good product. I think any self-respecting businessman or woman would do the same. The rules are the same—you give your customers satisfactory service and they come back for more. Business is business, and no matter what kind of customers you serve, you want the same result: to keep your customers happy. If you are lucky, they will spread the word about the quality services you provide, and with that comes success and recognition. It is as simple as that.
I am not sure if Xlibris’ representative read my stories, but he advised me to buy one of their most expensive packages, which he said would cover all my needs. I took his advice under consideration, and in January 2011 I purchased their Executive package for two children’s books of 44 pages each, including illustrations and marketing services, for $ 9,300.00.

In the beginning I felt broke but relieved. I naively thought the publishing process would be taken care of. I was dealing with professionals! That was when I learned that money does not buy happiness. The Executive package was to cover all services: editing my manuscript, creating illustrations, then marketing would kick in, and everything would run smoothly and peacefully. At that time, it sounded promising and encouraging. I could take off my shoes, sit back, and enjoy the ride.
By nature, I am a businessperson. I always take care of things and oversee the products I make. I pay attention to details that are important to customers and me, especially when it comes to children. I would never cheat little customers. My final product must look like one I would buy for myself. If I am not attracted to my product, then why should anyone else buy it?

Shortly thereafter, my manuscripts were edited. When I received the manuscripts back, I found notes with a few corrections and a release form attached.
“A few commas, a few wrong words, and so few suggestions. Not bad for a foreigner,” I thought proudly. English is one of the few languages I speak, and I relied heavily on the professional team to help me with editing.

“That’s how a manuscript should look?” I asked my representative.
“We have the best people in the publishing field. If you sign a release form, the manuscript will be ready for the next stage, and we will quickly move to layout,” he replied.
One day my daughter, who is a math teacher, read my edited manuscripts and found many grammar mistakes that had been missed. I quickly realized how poorly my manuscript had been edited and how many mistakes had been overlooked.
“A math teacher against a professional team? Unfair! Not an even battle,” I thought. I wrote a complaint, and their representative promised me they would correct the grammar mistakes that their editor had missed.

I honestly believed they would correct their errors, and I concentrated on the illustrations. Things became progressively worse when I received the first sketches for the characters in my book. They were done horribly, as if a small child had drawn them. I kindly explained to the representative that they should come up with better choices for illustrations. They did, but they still looked immature, and none of them presented my story accurately.
I rolled up my sleeves and went on the Internet. For weeks, I searched for art samples and pictures, spending many hours emailing, describing how I envisioned the mouse that was the main character of my book. I sent many instructions on how to draw his face, his clothes, his whiskers, but the artists still missed his whiskers on a few illustrations.
“To heck with whiskers,” I thought. “Children wouldn’t notice them anyway.” I tossed in bed night after night. I could not sleep for months.
“A mouse without whiskers? Insane!” I changed my mind.
In the end, Carlo the mouse came out really cute … after many sleepless nights, after searching for samples, pictures, drawings, sketches, and after switching illustrators and representatives. I finally complained to customer service and threatened to withdraw my projects.

When illustrator Juli Hasegawa came in to the picture and saved my illustrations, she was by far the best illustrator I’d worked with and came closest to what I had envisioned for my book.

My first book, Carlo the Mouse on Vacation, slowly moved ahead. The illustrations were colored and the book went to the production stage. As I mentioned previously, I am a foreigner, and I heavily relied on the competence of Xlibris’ professional team. That was why I bought a complete package. Correcting English grammar is not my cup of tea.
After Xlibris sent me a galley to look at and approve, I found that the production team had made more mistakes than I could imagine. After layout, their correction team did not bother to check pages or text. Illustrations were cut on each side, and words were smashed or ran into each other. I made note of the corrections and sent them back to Xlibris, but in the process of their corrections on the galley, they made more mistakes. The galley went back and forth for months, but the correction team apparently never reread what they corrected and sent the galley back with additional mistakes.

After months of struggling to get a clean, corrected galley, I wrote another complaint, but there was no answer. Customer service at Xlibris never took the time to call or had the courtesy to answer my concerns. I wrote a letter to the CEO, Kevin Weiss, but it seems he ignored my problems as well.
In the fall, we eventually reached the final galley stage, but after a math teacher had found so many mistakes in the galley, I did not trust Xlibris with grammar, and asked to check the manuscript once more time. They said they would.
Before I signed the release form, I noticed additional mistakes they had made, ones which I had previously directed them to correct. I asked the production team to be sure there would be no grammar mistakes in the galley and to be certain they used the final galley for printing. The representative promised there would be no problem with the galley.
After reading my story so many times, I had it memorized and could see it in my dreams. At that point, I should have given up, but I was determined to finish this project. Xlibris would not break my will and cause me to quit. I was almost there. I could smell my printed book. I wanted the adorable Carlo the mouse to see the world. I had created that funny mouse and I wanted children to meet him. Let the children judge and decide whether Carlo would live or not. I signed the release form and got congratulations from my Xlibris representative.

Finally, my first book was going to see the world. My picture was printed on the back of the book, just as I had dreamed. Great! I’m officially an author! Who would have believed it? I wrote the book in English! Carlo the mouse will meet the kids!
The holidays arrived … too soon. Santa wasn’t ready. Holding my first book, I suddenly noticed sticky tape on each corner. I quickly flipped through the book and found that the production team never took off the tape that held the pages. They printed my first book with tape on each page corner.

Angry, I wrote another book about Carlo the mouse struggling to survive a publishing company. This time the tape marks fit, because the poor animals had to create the book themselves after their struggles with Xlibris. Maybe Xlibris would be interested in publishing this book for free, but for now I decided to concentrate on my first two books and let them finish my projects.

All my pride and glory vanished when I saw that the illustrations were cut on each side again and appeared too large. Someone in the design department had messed up the size of the book, which should have been 8.5 by 11 inches. The pages were uneven and not centered. I was stunned at how sloppily the book was printed, fuzzy and unclear. The grammar mistakes that they had promised to fix had not been corrected. The design team had messed up the galley and let it go to printing without additional checking. After complaining, I received an explanation from my representative: “You owe us money to fix the tape marks.”

I stopped breathing and turned blue! Previously, many times on the phone, I had reminded the Xlibris representative to remove these tape marks.
“We would never print the book with the tape marks,” they reassured me.
If I could cry, I would, but I was in such a state of shock that I had forgotten how to do so. I wanted to howl like a wolf during the full moon…
“Did I place them there?” I asked.
“You signed a release form,” was their answer.
Once again, Carlo the mouse was in jeopardy. I happened to like my adventurous mouse and did not want him to disappear forever. I swallowed my pride and wrote another complaint. Carlo the Mouse on Vacation was my first book. I had worked so hard to give life to this funny, adorable mouse.

I contacted top management and the book was sent back to the production team, but I had lost my trust in Xlibris and hired my own editor, who did a great job by editing a new galley. Xlibris removed the tape and did a new layout for an additional $300.00.
Meanwhile, the marketing team lunched press and newswire releases, but the book was not available for sale. What was the point of advertising something that wasn’t available for sale? What a waste of money and time. The website wasn’t created either, and links that had been advertised went nowhere. Oh, Xlibris!
The marketing team had little knowledge of how the technical side of the Internet works. I hired my own website expert to deal with the Xlibris Internet marketing team, and for months, he directed them how to create a simple website, while he was working on my own website.

I don’t blame the representative. I didn’t know much about the Internet myself. The difference is that I don’t work for Xlibris! That’s why I bought an Executive package for almost $10,000.00. What is Xlibris’ excuse? They claim to be professionals, but have so little to offer. It took over two months and many emails to get a new galley redone.
After more than a year of working with Xlibris on my book Carlo the Mouse on Vacation, my adventure with Xlibris is finally over. The end of my suffering … Carlo the mouse will live! Now I can celebrate my first published book, Carlo the Mouse on Vacation, which by the way looks amazing, bursting with color and fun. My nieces and nephews love Carlo! They inspired me to write a series of ten adventures of Carlo the mouse inside the hospital.
The first version of Carlo the Mouse on Vacation is available in print on Amazon and Barnes & Noble and on most e-devices. I did not trust Xlibris with the e-book, which they had promised to convert for free, and had it done by EbookIt, which turned out to be an excellent company.

Hooray for Carlo the Mouse on Vacation! I hope my little readers will like this tricky little mouse. One thing I can promise Xlibris: Carlo the mouse will live and travel the world. I will make sure, because he deserves to be heard and seen.

After a year of fighting for cute Carlo the mouse, I have grown a very thick skin and have fought hard for my second book, The Trees Have Hearts, which has a special place in my heart. While working on TheTrees Have Hearts, I oversaw every word and every stroke in each illustration. No more mistakes!
For many months, I worked hard, but Xlibris was the best school I have ever attended. The experience I had with Xlibris taught me a great lesson: I learned how to make good books.
Now Xlibris has finally published my second book, The Trees Have Hearts, which looks amazing, bursting with vibrant colors and printed on quality paper. Once again, special thanks to Juli Hasegawa, a talented Filipina artist, who saved my two books.




I have been more than patient over the last year, but after struggling with Xlibris, I had no other option than to write this blog post and explain everything that has happened in my interactions with this company. If I can help at least one author to avoid my mistakes, it was well worth it to write this post. I am right here, one e-mail away.
Although I was exasperated, I would not give up before my project was completed to my satisfaction. I am not a nightmare—I do not go away.
What have I learned about the publishing process with Xlibris?
1.     I wrote another children’s book.
2.     Xlibris taught me how to make my own book.
3.     Xlibris can hire me as a consultant if they wish.
4.     Now I know what not to do and can help others.
Authors are not mean people. They write books, and most of the time they are harmless and depend too much on self-publishing companies, which promise to help and to create a good product. Authors pay them for their services and have the right to expect professionals who care.
I would like the folks at Xlibris to open their eyes and see what’s happening. They can compete with other book publishing companies if they are willing to pay attention, listen to customers, and learn from their mistakes. They produced two great books for me, Carlo the Mouse on Vacation and The Trees Have Hearts, which can easily compete with any publishing house. Our names are written next to each other, and now we can both be proud of the product we created. I am not a complainer, or God forbid, a quitter. I just like to write children’s stories and quality books.
Here is what I learned after working with Xlibris for almost a year:
1)   Xlibris could be a capable company if its teams learn how to communicate with each other and the writer.
2)   Xlibris could do much better if it hired qualified, well-trained, caring professional workers.
3)   Xlibris has talented people, but they are lost between representatives and authors.
4)   Xlibris could provide a higher quality product if it did not use cheap labor.
5)   Xlibris could print vibrant books if it used good printing subcontractors.
6)   Xlibris could stand up to any publisher if it provided the services it promises.
7)   Xlibris must learn to provide help for the author, not the other way around.
8)   Xlibris must take an interest in selling books and have a better marketing department.
9)   Xlibris must learn how to direct authors, not make them do all the work for their representatives.
10)                      Xlibris could produce the best books if it reads its bad reviews and learns from them.

Authors, take note! Never give up, do your homework, and don’t be afraid to stand up to your publisher. Remember, they work for you. You pay them your hard-earned money. I am a beginning author, but I am not a beginner in business. People shop with their eyes. The product that looks the best sells the best, and both parties benefit.
But what do I know? I am just another author.

ARE AVAILABLE ON AMAZONB&N
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Monday, May 28, 2012

THE TREES HAVE HEARTS:Stop and Breathe… Be a Child For a Moment…





Posted by Picasa After you finish reading this book to your child, stop your busy life for a moment and take time for you and your child. Close your eyes and go to a special place, where everything is simple and pure. Cuddle with your child on the green grass or golden sand… stare at the beautiful blue sky… listen to the splashing waves… spin around in a blooming garden or talk to the whispering wind. Look around you and see what is important in life and to your child.
Stop and breathe… Be a child for a moment… Dive into their imaginary world where you can hide in the shadows of blossoming trees. There was a time when my curly-haired girl taught me how to see her world through her innocent green eyes.
Do not lose this precious time together; our children grow so fast and I believe that these special moments are given to us for a reason. Hug your children every chance you get; reassure them that they are loved. They have their worries and fears, ideas and solutions as we do. Right or wrong, our children need us to understand their imaginary world and to be present in their dreams. Try to listen and hear what they are hearing and see what they are seeing. Love simple things with an open heart and you will receive unconditional love. Teach your children, lead them through their life, but let them run free in their imaginary kingdom.
I had the privilege to see this imaginary world through the eyes of my little daughter and saved those moments in my memories forever. The curly-haired girl is running free in the blooming garden. Now, it is your time, and I will share my story you
MRS.D.




THE TREES HAVE HEARTS




In this lively text with its beautiful illustrations, you’ll read the touching story of a young girl, friendless because she cannot speak a new language. It will transport your child into the imaginary world of a little girl who has moved to America from a different country.

Unable to speak English, the lonely girl cannot find friends at first. She lives in an old house with a small garden, where three lovely trees and the mysterious wind become her first imaginary friends. The garden friends develop a wonderful friendship with the girl and help her to overcome her fears and worries. They teach her how to make real friends and help her to cope with difficult moments while adapting to her new surroundings.
Unforgettable characters open a beautiful imaginary world to young readers, inviting them to share the fears, tears, and joys of a little girl. The story teaches the true meaning of friendship, while showing readers the beauty of nature. It reveals an enchanting imaginary world as seen through the eyes of a child…


 


 
Follow the delightful story of a little girl who discovers the real meaning of friendship in The Trees Have Hearts.
ISBN 13 (SOFT): 978-1-4691-3479-6
ISBN 13 (HARD): 978-1-4691-3480-2
The Trees Have Hearts is available as ebooks  on most popular e-devices. To download e-books please go to:


Tuesday, May 22, 2012

THE TREES HAVE HEARTS- Book Excerpt and Sketches







































































 THE TREES HAVE HEARTS




Book Excerpt

Sitting on the doorstep, the lonely little girl looked at the blossoming garden. After filling thirsty trees with fresh water, the short afternoon rain finally stopped. The warm spring storm dragged rain clouds behind the horizon and disappeared, leaving a clear blue sky. Quietly rustling with new green leaves, the garden trees, ready to bloom any minute, opened up their half-closed buds to the warm sun. The green branches, tossed in the soft breeze, were bursting with beautiful flowers, sparkling with crystal raindrops, lit by the dancing sunrays. The blossoming trees attracted noisy bees and colorful butterflies, trying to land inside their open flowers. The playful Old Wind gently breathed, wandering inside the curly crowns of the young trees. Playing day and night with their newborn flowers, he spread honey-scented blossoms through the small garden. Spring was in full bloom!

The three blooming trees were returning to life after the long harsh winter. There was Sassy, the beautiful magnolia, and two sisters, Shadow, the weeping cherry tree and Chance, the plum tree. Planted by caring people in the old garden many years ago, they grew in one group by the wide window. The garden trees bloomed every spring in front of the small house, giving joy to many people who walked by.

One day, a little girl moved to the small house from a different country. Unable to speak the new language, she could not play outside with the other children. Peering through the fence at the busy street, she wished that she could talk to the kids and play with them as she used to in her old country. Often teased and called a mute in school, she was too shy to talk...


Buy the Books

 



Follow the delightful story of a little girl who discovers the real meaning of friendship in The Trees Have Hearts.
ISBN 13 (SOFT): 978-1-4691-3479-6
ISBN 13 (HARD): 978-1-4691-3480-2

The Trees Have Hearts have been published and is available as ebooks  on most e-devices. To download e-book please go to:


Sunday, May 20, 2012

WHAT NUMBER ARE YOU?


WHAT NUMBER ARE YOU?

By Mrs.D.




I was walking along a stretch of road on the beautiful intercoastal, enjoying a slowly falling sunset. A beautiful strip of blue water stretched in front of my eyes, sparkling with dancing sunbeams. Slowly rolling waves playfully slapped the sandy shore, quietly playing a soothing melody. The last sunbeams blinded my eyes, and squinting, I looked at the wonderful view around me. My thoughts were so far away from the busy day, which had been filled with the Internet and bad news on TV.

“Smile!” the young man said, as he watched me walking toward the traffic light. I looked away from the water and glanced at him. Smiling, the young man stood on the other side of the street, holding a handwritten sign in his hands. I slowed my walking pace and took a closer look at his sign: “Help us to take back America!” I raised my eyebrows in surprise and watched the young man. He was waiting for me to cross the road, and when the traffic light changed, he left his spot and started maneuvering between the cars. His friends were busy too, approaching cars that stopped at the traffic light.

I took a quick look at the young protesters, full of energy and health. They were well dressed and did not seem to be hungry or unhappy. The evening was warm and beautiful, and I wondered what these young people were protesting. Some protesters stood on the side of the road holding their homemade signs, while others were talking to total strangers. I read their signs on the fence: “We are the 99%!”

“Fight the 1% fat cats! Give America back to us!” I did not understand what they wanted. What kind of America would they like to take back? America belonged to all of us: to happily screaming children playing in the nearby park, to people hurrying home after work, to the homeless man sitting on the bench. I did not notice any sad faces in the crowd. People enjoyed themselves in restaurants, peacefully dining on the terrace. Cheerful musicians played pleasant tunes in the park, and the homeless man ate his pizza on a bench, enjoying the free entertainment. He wasn’t interested in the young protesters talking to the drivers. He was homeless, but he wasn’t protesting.

As I watched people gathering for a glass of wine, I wondered what these young protesters wanted from life. Most of them had grown up sheltered by the previous generation. They had lived a better life and had it much easier than the generations before them.

“Save our America! Join us to fight the fat cats! Be one of us!” I read the many signs on the fence. I watched the young man with his handwritten sign, not saying anything about what he wanted personally. Confused, I was ready to cross the street, but he stopped me. What America is this young man protesting? I wondered as I looked into his face.

“Smile!” The young protester flashed a big grin. A bright sparkle appeared in his eyes. I smiled. I had something to smile about; my dreams had come true. I lived in America, his beautiful country.

“Join the 99%!” He lifted his sign to my face, but I did not see exactly what percent he was. I wondered why he didn’t write what number he was on his sign. He was in his late twenties, or possibly early thirties, clean shaven and well spoken. I was sure America needed his help, but certainly not on the street as a protester. He did not look like a lost soul, drowning in darkness. Reading the posters hanging on the side of the road, I wondered what made him so desperate and angry.

“What number are you?” I asked him straight out.

“We are the 99%! Help us to fight the 1%!” The young protester avoided my question and flashed two signs in front of my face.

Unfair battle, I thought instantly. 99% against 1%. Shouldn’t it be the other way around? I asked myself. As we talked, a dog walker passed by with a bunch of excited dogs, fighting for his attention. They growled at each other, and the dog walker had a hard time controlling them on their long leashes. Annoyed, he stopped by the fence and the curious pooches stared at the signs. Puzzled, they probably wondered which category they belonged to. A snobby German shepherd was interested in the 1%. A few yapping Chihuahuas and two mellow Shih Tzu leaned toward the 99%. A polite longhaired collie could not decide which sign was better and pulled the dog walker from one sign to another.

Just like people, I thought. I did not know which number I was either. I never liked measuring myself by numbers.

“You must be the 99%” the young man said as he looked at my simple clothing. I was sure that I wasn’t either number he showed me. I took a deep breath and looked at the beautiful view.

“It is a dazzling sunset,” he said. I nodded, but my attention was drawn to the dogs fighting over the signs. Confused, they ran barking from one sign to the other. Now the Chihuahuas decided they wanted to be number 1, but the German shepherd wasn’t happy about it and pushed the little barking rats back where they belonged, to number 99. The two Shih Tzu didn’t care; by their nature they were loving dogs, and it didn’t make any difference to them which number they were. They knew, once they got back home, they would get a treat anyway.

Watching the fighting dogs, I was confused myself. If I had to choose between the two signs, I did not know what I would do. I looked at the German shepherd. The big dog barked, protecting his sign with the 1%. The mellow collie decided not to get involved and stood in the middle.

“Calm down, old fellow!” I glanced at the barking dog. I didn’t need to get in a fight over a stupid percentage. I knew who I was. I was sure I was not 99%, but neither was I 1%. Maybe I was somewhere in the middle, or maybe a hair higher. The man tried to read my face.

“Why should I be labeled by a number?” I asked the young man.

“I am with the 99%!” the man said firmly. I looked at the protective Chihuahuas, showing their sharp little teeth. They liked their 99% number.

“So what is your number?” the young man asked playfully. I stared at the barking dogs fighting over the numbers. The dogs tangled their leashes around the dog watcher’s legs and he had a hard time controlling them.

“Are you with us?” the young protester asked impatiently. He looked at my cheap sneakers and ten-dollar shirt. I uncomfortably pulled down my sweaty walking shirt and stepped to the side, worried about my smelly sneakers. He took out a printed sign and handed me the number 99%. I turned it upside down.

“It will make you number 66.” The man laughed. I agreed. I was somewhere close to that number; maybe a tiny bit lower.

“Why are you number 99?” I asked the young man. “Why do you choose this particular number?”

“Haven’t you heard about us?” the man asked, surprised. “We are all over the country! We are on every corner protesting Wall Street! We are the new 99% moment! Sounds cool, doesn’t it?”

He sounded excited. The number 99 was not my favorite number; it was not an even number. I like balance in everything. I glanced at the calmly splashing waves, slowly rocking the enormous expensive yachts docked by the shore. I wished I could step foot on one of them, but I was not upset; it was not one of my childhood dreams.

“Nice yachts!” The young man said, openly admiring the toys of rich men. I agreed. “They are the 1%” the man said.

“Nice toys!” I said. “They come with a price, a lot of sweat and hard work. Many people aren’t ready to pay that price,” I said, looking at the white floating mansions.

“I would pay the price if I had the chance, but the fat cats stole my life.” The young man burned with fury.

“You want to be 1%?” I asked, stunned. “So, what are you doing on this side of the road?” The protester was visibly upset.

“I am an intelligent man. I have two degrees and I used to own two businesses,” he said angrily. “But I lost everything. The fat cats took away my American dream.”

The man’s face flashed red with anger. He was getting annoyed with the strange foreign woman. “I think you are on the wrong side of road,” he said angrily.

“The expensive yacht will not fall in your lap if you walk with your sign on this side,” I said quietly. “Everyone wants to be number 1, but not everyone has the guts to do what it takes.”

“You are a foreigner; you know nothing about America,” the man said bitterly. “You should be with us!” He looked at my worn sneakers. “You are definitely number 99.”

“Somewhere in the middle,” I said calmly. “How did you reach the end of your rope?” I asked curiously. The young man was offended.

“I worked hard,” he defended himself. I looked in his eyes, full of desperation. I knew his pain; I had been in his position many times. I arrived in the U.S. with just a few hundred dollars in my pocket.

“You lost your business, that’s a fact, but you have your education and a wonderful country standing behind you. America will help you, but you must help yourself first. Use your head and the knowledge you have.”

“I’ve lost hope. I worked hard.” The man smiled shyly.

“Not hard enough. You let go too soon,” I said. “I held on to my business with my teeth for years. It wasn’t easy, but I refused to be another statistic. You are right. I am a foreigner, but I know what numbers mean. One crazy shepherd runs a flock of sheep to the slaughterhouse. Wake up! Use your two degrees. You studied hard to be on the wrong side of the road, holding up a hopeless sign. Work harder and do what it takes. Don’t expect to get rich fast. It won’t happen quickly. I made it, and you can make it too. Be 1%! Prove to yourself and to the world that you deserve to be number ONE. Keep a balance in nature!” The young man did not say anything.

“Look at those dogs!” I pointed to the fighting dogs. The dogs were barking; they had a hard time figuring percentages. The German shepherd pushed the Chihuahuas away from the 1% sign and they barked back with their high-pitched voices. The undecided collie went out of control and cried loudly; she’d had enough of making decisions. The two Shih Tzu were scared and hid under the bushes. I laughed; it reminded me of the White House: everyone screaming, but no one listening. Suddenly, a playful squirrel jumped from the tree and distracted the barking dogs. Scared, she ran to another tree, but the dogs didn’t see her and started barking at the wrong tree. We laughed.

“The dogs are barking up the wrong tree,” the man said agreeably.

“Like the White House…” I commented.

“Nobody listens,” he concluded. The dog watcher reached for the treats and the dogs got quiet, happily wagging their tails.

“Walk on the right side of street,” I said. “The dogs don’t care. I am not a number either.”

I walked away from the protester. Walking home, I thought how fortunate I was to escape a harsh life in my old country, where I was just another number. How wonderful it is to breathe free and walk down the streets safely, and have a peaceful conversation with a smart young man. How grateful I am to live in beautiful America. I saw the dogs who did not agree with each other, but they did not bite the hand that fed them. Unlike the young man, I did not want to be 1%, but I refused to be 99% either. 


 



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