Success, Sales, and a Bloodhound Puppy
My definition of success is pretty simple. Every day I wake up is a success. Really. I have an extreme food allergy and carry an Epi-pen. One mistaken bite of my nemesis could be my last. And it’s not just me. All humans are at risk of the grim reaper, all the time.
Last month, as I trolled through the garage sale listings of Craigslist I saw the estate of Cynthia Black advertised. What, she died!?! A Google search ensued.
I was shocked.
For those who don’t know of Cynthia Black, she was part of the dynamic force behind Beyond Words Publishing, a spiritual press in Hillsboro, Oregon. I knew Cindy and her husband Richard via my work with a local publishing conference.
While the estate sale listing detailed the life of a beautiful, well-traveled, and powerful woman (Cindy was all of these and more), my memory of her is more entrepreneurial. A risk taker with an all-consuming belief in the message of her press, she’d faced the prospect of closing her business on more than one occasion. Failure slowed her down, but it never stopped her. Eventually, she happened upon a manuscript titled The Secret.
Yeah, that book. International bestseller. The rest is history.
My point: Though Cynthia Black is no longer with us, she defined success through sheer grit, determination and focus. Because publishing is not a business for the faint-hearted.
In three other non-related March moments of success…
After months of searching for the lost battery charger to my digital camera (missing since Christmas), it suddenly showed up! Among a crashed-down pile of stuff that tumbled out of my office closet, it sat atop a book I’d been looking for, Buddhist Acts of Compassion. Coincidence? I think not.
Next, my husband and I began teaching again. March’s story pitching class received rave reviews from students. More classes to come this month, next, and through the summer. See Windtree Press newsletter for details.
And finally, after a terribly sad end to 2014, I have a puppy again. Angus.
He is the cause of the above-mentioned crashed-down pile of closet stuff. A re-homed Christmas present discovered on Craigslist, and he is full of life like only a 7-month old Bloodhound can be. And sometimes, like just now when he ran by with a screwdriver in his mouth, I need to remind myself to just breath…
He’ll be an adult someday. In the meantime, I need to go clean up the toolbox massacre by the back door and pull a screwdriver out of his gaping maw.
May each and every day of your life be filled with success, however you define it!