Chapter 11 - A New Book

Part 1

December 15th 2022 – 9’ x 12’ Publication Day

With some trepidation, I sat before my computer, watching the minutes count down to seven AM when I had scheduled the launch of my new memoir cookbook. Would people like the new format? Or understand it? Or how did this multi-media project work? Was it too much? Too little? Would people like the audio version? Would they listen to the music? Was this the right time to launch this book? I had so many questions. Minutes passed. I held my breath, and then, with the magic of electronic impulses, the book's first chapter was winging its way into my subscribers' inboxes. I watched and realized I was holding my breath. I made a cup of espresso and returned five minutes later to see if there was a response. Nothing. Wait, nothing? Then, of course, I realized that, unlike me, only some may be sitting in front of their computers, tablets, or phones, waiting to read the first chapter of this new book! If you receive a long email at seven o'clock in the morning, there might be a better time to read it. But still, I had hoped for an instant reaction, I don't know, perhaps an avalanche of emails or comments on social media. Ten minutes after launch, still nothing. As the poet William Langland wrote in 1360, 'patience is a virtue,' I was running short of it at that very moment in time. Should I go for a walk? I realized I was nervous. I needed air.

The cover of 9’ x 12’, a glimpse into my kitchen.

As I walked, I fretted about this project. Was mid-December the right time to do this? December is often the busiest month; people rush from one thing to another, trying to cross items off long to-do lists. I'd had a blur of events: cooking, baking, prepping, marketing, and one pop-up after the other. At my annual Holiday Boutique, many guests asked me where the new book was. They wanted to buy a copy for a friend or themselves, and could they look at it? I explained the new format and that it was online. 'Oh,' they said, more than one wanted a physical book. Damn, was this a mistake? Some time and a few miles later, I was back in front of my screens. Anything? As I opened my computer, it pinged, announcing a new email in my inbox. I clicked on the first one that referenced 9 x 12.  It read:

‘Pascale, I'm speed reading thru this as fast as I am able so that I can go back and read slowly and take it in the way it calls for. But, before doing that, I am sending you congratulations and appreciation for writing so clearly and meaningfully about your experience and the wisdom and insights it brought you.’

I was elated! Then, social media messages were posted online, on Substack, and more emails arrived. Text messages from family and friends popped up on my phone, and more emails pinged into my inbox. All positive. All encouraging. I could breathe a little easier. Then, many new subscriber emails started arriving, too. What joy! 

A flurry of year-end activity followed the launch: more baking, cooking, and packaging. I planned a New Year's escape to see my family for a week of R & R before launching into January's workload and managing everything encompassing 9 x 12.

Expectations VS Reality

As with many projects, there is a learning curve, and this one was steep. Due to the prior month's emotional upheavals, I did not have the planned cushion of a few chapters 'in the can,' so I would be writing in real-time. Within days, I realized that producing a chapter for 9 x 12 every month, complete with recipes, photoshoots, audio recordings, playlist, embedded images, and links, all while teaching, cooking for pop-up events, and producing Two Baking Brit events with Sandra, was a MUCH more significant undertaking than I had first envisioned. Every two weeks, a writing deadline loomed. On the first out went my monthly newsletter, and on the 15th, the next installment of 9 x 12, to say nothing of the other publications I wrote for and the ongoing challenges of converting readers to paid subscribers. It was suddenly a lot of research, writing and editing. I took to scribbling in the oddest places. In the park, in the car, by the sea, in a parking lot, in a waiting room, on a bus, and in a plane. I felt like a Dr. Seuss character in Sam I Am, juggling spinning plates piled higgledy-piggledy, spinning wildly, teetering on the edge of collapse but somehow making it to the next chapter. I work better under some pressure, but there were months when this (and yes, I know it was self-inflicted) schedule was a little too much. I wanted to hibernate and write and not do all the other things.