Socially Distant with Peter Knox #1: Stay Safe! Read Books!

Mar 20, 2020 3:55 am

Hi !

This is my first email to you. Everyone wants (and deserves) a roadmap for reading these sort of personal newsletters, ie. a reliable structure so you know when to scan and what to expect. But I'm making this up as I go! So consider this a work in progress, a project that will evolve, and footing we'll find together.

You can email-reply to this email and I'll read every response - so let me know what you think! For now, like the weather, we have to talk about this especially weird time we're in and I want to tell a new story and an old story - with a recommendation for now in the middle. At the end, I'll tell you why I'm turning to the lost art of letter writing over adding a simple noisy social post to the pile, and promise you I'll write again next week. Let's get into it:

act one

Anger wants a voice, voices wanna sing

Singers harmonize till they can't hear anything

I thought that I was free from all that questionin'

But every time a problem ends, another one begins

And the stone walls of Harmony Hall bear witness

Anybody with a worried mind could never forgive the sight

Of wicked snakes inside a place you thought was dignified

I don't wanna live like this, but I don't wanna die

[Harmony Hall, Vampire Weekend]

We were halfway to the suburbs of Philadelphia, driving south on 95 in New Jersey, when the phone rang and fear began to take hold. Quick to answer before the ringing would wake my sleeping children in the back, I heard my mother's voice over the speakers say, "It's important."

After four days of #StayHome and #FlattenTheCurve in this time of CORVID, my wife and I were struggling with what to do next. While I know we are each capable of being excellent partners to each other, parents to our two young children, and assets to our employers, we were finding out how impossible it is to fulfill even one of those roles at a time.

The larger 2 BR apartment we had moved into a year ago felt like it was shrinking now that we were self-isolating. Even walks out to the park across the street were stress inducing. Everyone that looked like they were just having a normal day made us panic more on their behalf combined with the fact that you can't stop a toddler from touching every surface on a heavily used playground. We had a car, we had options (yes, that's quite privileged in itself), so let's leave the city that we love for the reasons we love it (the people, the energy, the events, all now anxiety-inducing instead).

Wednesday was spent literally juggling kids, jumping on work calls, and slowly packing the sedan as full as possible. After an early dinner, we hit the road. We were headed to my parent's house in the outskirts of Philadelphia, a short distance from where I grew up. I couldn't wait to relax in a house with more than one floor and more than one bathroom and (gasp!) even a porch! Then the call.

Turns out my parents had told their neighbors we were coming. And those neighbors, for lack of a better word, protested. Made it clear that people from New York City were not welcome in their 55+ Active Community (mind you this community consists of individual separate houses with yards + an already closed shared clubhouse being the only common use space). So I had inadvertently put my parents in a bad spot, between their own family and neighbors.

In that moment I felt true empathy in experience (not just in the abstract, as I have previously) for any refugee, fleeing with their family in search of a better situation and being turned around at the border based simply on where they were coming from at that given moment. Despite my parent's embarrassment on behalf of their facts-less and fearful neighbors, I still felt empathy for those same neighbors - what we're dealing with is unknown and scary and yes, deadly. I recognize how powerful feelings are and that they will trump facts almost every time.

But I hope we can all realize that everyone still needs to educate themselves on this pandemic and realize we're in this together - as a human race, just like in the movies. I don't expect everyone to run to the frontline and don a mask and gloves, but I would hope for more understanding and empathy and to strive for kindness, instead of closing our communities to others.

So we did a turnaround at the next exit, then drove an extra four hours to arrive at 1am in Upstate NY (near Ithaca) where my parents were at their mountain townhouse (again, privileged - I know). Ironically, this townhouse shares a wall with neighbors. We're here now and settled in for the uncertain road ahead. Others are not as lucky. Lend your thoughts and extend what care you can to those that need it.

act two

What is currently giving me hope is how everyone, not just New Yorkers, are rallying around their local small businesses, shops, and restaurants. Bars are selling drinks to go, restaurants you could never get a reservation at are cooking and delivering full meals, and people are buying gift cards and donating to employees.

We're only as strong and resilient as everyone in this together. For instance, the single largest monthly expense in my family is daycare for two kids - which we're going to continue to pay, because we will need that childcare support to still exist after this is all over. I feel the same way about bars and cafes and especially bookstores - who are impressing the hell out of me right now.

First the New York Times had this great article about how independent bookstores immediately embraced the new normal order of social distancing buy shutting down all of their events (their single biggest revenue driver) and pivoting to a pizza-delivery model of curbside sales, takeout, and yes - local delivery of books to people at home with suddenly a lot more time to read.

With the Publisher's Weekly news that Amazon is (rightfully) prioritizing non-book product for shipping and delivery, it makes more sense now than ever to be buying directly from an independent bookstore (my favorite local Books Are Magic is shipping anywhere for just $0.99). Don't know what you want? Get a gift card instead.

That t-shirt above was just designed by the co-owner of Books Are Magic with 50% of the profits going to BINC, the Book Industry Charitable Foundation. BINC helps booksellers in need and we're going to need those booksellers. McNally Jackson made news laying off over 80 employees earlier this week. There are hundreds of affected industries and I have non-publishing friends facing cutbacks and unemployment already, but my heart always goes to books.

act three

Books will get us through this. These are the ones I brought with me upstate /\ and the key to make any self isolation pass faster and more productively is to have a to-read pile and keep adding to it.

I'm re-familiarizing myself with some of the marketing books and authors that I was lucky to have learned from at Wiley, as well as some newer books that align with my interests. I'll let you know more about my relationships with them in upcoming emails. But if you're curious - I've keep meticulous track of every book I've read (averaging 46 books each year) over the last decade (and reviewed every one!) at my GoodReads account.

So I know you signed up to learn about my new job. Monday was supposed to be the start in the new office space in Brooklyn, with the man who hired me flying out to build on our strategy for three days - but instead, the flight was postponed, the space is closed, and I'm writing to you from upstate NY instead of Brooklyn. There will be more to share soon, but I will tell you that the company works with authors and publishers and publicists on making book launches successful - and there was no interview for me to get the job.

Which leads me to the brief old story I wanted to tell... (I promise every email won't be this long, they can't be!) of landing an interview with Wiley the summer of 2006...

I graduated from Washington College in May 2006 and on June 18th my parents dropped me off at Columbia University in New York City to start my six week certificate program at The Columbia Publishing Course. Out of the 100 students there, 95 put their hands up when asked who wanted to be in editorial.

Of course the movie-perception of an editor reading manuscripts at work is far from the actual job (which is mostly prospecting, contract negotiation, and author wrangling at the office and reading the manuscripts at night and weekends), I knew I'd need to find another way into publishing.

That way found me when I was assigned the role of 'subsidiary rights' in our publishing house workshop week. The Sub Rights leader of our group actually worked at Wiley and put in a good word for me after witnessing me on stage pitching the translation rights for a book that only existed hypothetically. I wouldn't know that until after the job fair when I actually had the interview.

For the job fair, it's all the publishing houses each with a table in the room we spent all summer sweating in, listening to lecture after lecture. Everyone's lined up to talk to Harper, Penguin, Random, etc. and wearing the one nice suit or outfit they brought to NYC (and that I also wore to every wedding and funeral).

I distributed my workshopped resume to all the big names and in line, turned around and saw Wiley. Not even knowing who or what Wiley was (this is before Wiley Plus took over higher ed), I smiled and said 'anything but editorial' and handed over the nice piece of paper. They would be in touch, they said. They all said this.

Having handed out every copy I had, I returned to my dorm room eager to shed the sweaty suit. That was when I caught a glimpse of myself in the full length closet mirror for the first time. My dark blue suit, with a splash of white at table/crotch level where my zipper was open, as it had been the whole time.

And that led to a job I'd have for fourteen years, starting two weeks later. (For the record, I don't think my wardrobe malfunction helped - or hurt!)

Working in a room with some of the same people for almost 14 years, I knew my new job would make me socially distant - hence this newsletter - and I wanted to find a way to stay in touch and start writing more again. This email is the answer. So many people I follow and respect do personal publishing like this so well and I have to thank Nick Gray especially for telling me about SendFox. I'll highlight other newsletters I love each week, but while Nick's is irregular in frequency it is regular in the quality and care he puts into each one. Also when humans collectively decide to start gathering again, he'll throw the best party to make up for lost time.

Thank you {{contact.first_name}} for sticking around with me on this email. (That's something Nick would say).

They'll only get better. Email me if you made it this far and I'll tell you about a podcast I binged on a recent long drive.

Meanwhile, find your quaranTEAM. Do a group video chat (Facetime, Hangouts, Skype, Zoom). Start a new book. Keep a diary. And I'll see you next week in the same inbox.