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The online journal of Thimbleberry Press, LLC. Thimbleberry Press, LLC is a newly established publisher whose aim is to bring thoughtful, beautiful and affordable books and web-based materials on culture, history, art and language to the broadest possible public.
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When I was a girl my family lived through a big storm on the East Coast that flooded us out of our home. Honestly, I don't remember the name of that particular storm, but I do remember being evacuated by the National Guard along with my sister and my mother, staying with friends for what seemed like an eternity, but was likely only a week or two, and then living in a rental home for months while my father and neighbors rebuilt.
Yes, I realize we are at the height of a very bitter election campaign, but really, doesn't this little girl sum up what many people are feeling? Particularly now that we have a national disaster to deal with?
When my family survived that flood in Pennsylvania all those years ago I was a kid and politically unaware, but I'm fairly certain no one was nattering about the governor playing politics for his own gain or the president just looking for photo ops.
The highest aim of elected officials ought to be to see to the welfare of the people. It appears, from the outside at least, that that is what the Governor of New Jersey and the President of the United States are busy doing. I just wish Sandy could have swept out a large quantity of cynicism when she passed through.
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| Eloise stakes her claim. |
Only three weeks ago I was so confident I had at last gotten a handle on my
office organization. No sooner had I finished that blog post than the forces of chaos mounted their attack in the persona of my cat, Eloise. Every empty book shelf I proudly created, she immediately claimed as her newest roost.
I'm not defeated, just delayed. I am not so weak that I would permanently keep empty book cases for the amusement of one cat. I'm not. I'm not. I'm not.
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| Jack and Eloise lounging in the office window on the day bed. |
If you have a home office or studio you might face this same dilemma: can I justify the extra overhead of a "real" office or can I make my home space work as I grow my business. This week I've been reminded of the importance of work space when I determined to tackle my dysfunctional home office before deciding if I can stay or if I must go.
- The first thing I had to do was re-establish the primary use of this room of mine: Office, not pet retreat, not daughter's online retreat, not husband's extra library space. I might be a book designer but that doesn't mean I want my office crammed with books that have nothing to do with my business. Everyone else in the household had to remove their belongings or risk me doing it for them. I channeled my inner-tyrant and shockingly it worked.
- The next thing I did was figure out what wall I wanted to face. I sat in my chair and turned in every direction until I felt most at ease and--voila--I had my furniture arrangement. One of the advantages of a small space is you have limited options once you place your desk. I'm calling this an advantage because I believe in the old adage of making a virtue of necessity.
- I also realized I could make due with a smaller desk and so freed up some just plain open space to make me feel more comfortable. Ah, the widening horizon...
- I further realized that while I didn't have time to clear away all the clutter in a permanent fashion, I could at least banish much of it to the attic or basement. OK, out-of-sight-out-of-mind isn't the best adage in most situations but in a pinch it can work for home office dwellers. I'm much less oppressed by boxes of paper up in the attic than surrounding my desk. Filing be damned.
- Next up is a new coat of paint, but for now I've simply decided on the color. I want the weather a bit warmer before I spend a day with open windows while I paint. But at least I can imagine painting this room and I think I know the color scheme.
I'm feeling MUCH better and more productive. Now I just have to decide if home and work can continue to mix as easily as they have in the past. Right now the allure of
separating work from home is about as strong as the compulsion to
keep work at home. I'm so accustomed to designing with a cat on my lap and a dog at my feet maybe I'd become dysfunctional if I moved. Yikes...next up psychological clutter. Anyone have a spare attic...
Suddenly, the film score to "The Dark Knight" came on my Pandora feed and I realized—officially—I am wearing too many hats. I'm not sure what it is about that melodramatic orchestral music that brought about this epiphany, but there you go.
I suppose what finally made me snap was when they followed it up with the James Bond theme. Who do they think I am? For that matter, who do
I think I am?
My official to do list for this week (when I am not teaching because it is Spring Break):
1. invoice clients (well, duh)
2. finish 3 e-books
3. figure out Amazon.com once and for all (there's a week's project on its own)
4. get teenager through standardized test week at her high school
5. finish up 3 other small press projects for
Mudminnow as well as
Thimbleberry Press (I know, being a partner in two small presses is just asking for it)
6. get back to work on that long-put-off third issue of
Further North (I know you thought I'd given up but oh no, not me)
7. prepare to go back to teaching next week (when it is no longer Spring Break)
8. make more useless to-do lists that will go uncompleted...
but ahhh...the tunes just switched to The Temptations "The Way You Do the Things You Do." That's more like it.
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| Every key I found in my kitchen what-not drawer. |
Without going all metaphysical on you, what becomes of
all the keys in your life? If, like me, you've moved a lot, bought and sold vehicles with abandon, never thrown a key away for fear you will need it the minute you take out the trash...you too might have a bowl like the one pictured above.
This is such a common human frailty it must be psychologically significant. Fear of being locked in? Fear of being locked out? I simply thought I was tidying up when I pulled this mass of metal out of the drawer next to my stove, but once I'd done it I couldn't bring myself to throw any of them away. In fact, the bowl is still sitting on my counter (so much for tidying up).
For me it's a question of physics as much as metaphysics: Keys are so much more substantial in my hand than a ticket stub or a rubber band that I can't cavalierly toss them out. Weight equals value, at least in my domain.
So I'm thinking I'll relocate these keys to the basement where they can join the cans of nuts and bolts we inherited when we bought this house. Eventually, I might have a critical mass of metal worth salvaging.
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| Bird watchers outside the Portage Lake District Library on Dec. 23. |
A young
snowy owl paid Houghton a visit last Friday. I never would have known except for my impromptu visit to
Portage Lake District Library where a small group of dedicated bird watchers had gathered to witness a natural drama playing out. People inside the Portage Library had seen the animal fly in and the call went out: An immature snowy owl had migrated south and landed on the frozen canal where it was being relentlessly pestered by crows.
An overpopulation of snowy owls this year has caused more young birds than normal to migrate down from the tundra in search of food. Whether this owl was exhausted, starving, or simply unflappable I can't say but it held its ground (actually, ice) no matter what the hopping, swooping and noisy crows did to scare it off.
It was a gorgeous animal and it was a thrill to watch it through the powerful viewing scope one of the bird watchers had set up along the Portage Lake Canal. With the unaided eye the bird would have been overlooked as a small mound of dirty snow. Viewed through the high-powered lens its white and speckled feathers looked soft and ruffled slightly in the wind. One librarian told me earlier that same day she had watched otters crossing the canal from the Hancock to the Houghton side, sometimes frolicking over the ice, sometimes diving in the water. Apparently, the library is a great place for animal watching of all sorts.
I know owls are predators, but seeing one lone creature surrounded by four, and sometimes more, excited crows was unnerving. The wind was cold and the snow was getting heavier when I left, turning my attention back to Christmas errands and letting nature take its course.
I really don't know what made me pull this album from the shelf and put it on the turn table today but it was an inspired choice. Nostalgia has taken me back to the Staple Singers 1973 album,
Be What You Are. Despite racial strife, the Vietnam war, and the "Cold War" the mood I remember from my childhood was largely upbeat and optimistic. Not sure how much of that is due to personal circumstances, and how much is due to musicians like these.
It's hip to be cynical because it's safe. Afterall, people always disappoint. No surprise there. But the art, whether literary or musical, that drew me in as a girl and still does today is never about tearing down. A poet I knew in graduate school once told me she couldn't do that "epiphany thing." Apparently, I can do nothing else. To each her own.
My epiphany of the day is that even though I'm about as far from a gospel singer as you can get, when I'm writing poetry one of the voices in the back of my mind is Mavis Staples. I couldn't ask for better company.
In time for holiday gift-giving, we've created a charming wall calendar filled with images from the first 4 issues of Adventures in the U.P. Kids (and any dog lovers on your list) will love it.
Click on the image below to preview the calendar and if you'd like order it directly online to be shipped anywhere in the U.S.
Have a wonderful holiday season and a happy New Year.
The truism that nothing is constant but change has now been made manifest in its purest form and that is the publishing business right now. And again now. Oh and something just changed and you missed it, again. What happened first to the music business with file sharing, etc. has now hit the book business like a tsunami...you know a prolonged, huge, powerful wave. Everyone involved has no choice but to ride it and see where they land.
Personally, I take my inspiration from small things. Hence my preoccupation with hummingbirds. Mastering all technologies at once, one small piece at a time. Web design (much easier today than 10 years ago, thank God), blogging (practically idiot proof, but time consuming), social media (don't get me started, oh that's right...too late), print-on-demand (check), ebooks (we're getting there). Honestly, change is really exhausting.
I decided this morning to revisit one of my original blog posts to see how jaded I'd become in less than two years of operating a tiny press on a tiny peninsula in the middle of a sea of change (technologically speaking).
One constant I found from that earlier blog post to today are the hummingbirds. In June 2009 I wrote:
"Can a business plan include: a front porch, bird feeders, a vegetable garden, poetry, and a piano? Apparently so, because I have decided if there are no hummingbirds and gold finches, then I’m sorry but the deal’s off."
We have plenty of hummingbirds this June. Here's hoping they're harbingers of good things to come.
Putting together the second issue of Further North I suddenly realized what drew me to editorial design as a career also drew me to the Keweenaw—an absolute love of the material world. Editorial design means designing books, magazines, any other lengthy text intended to be read. It is a category of graphic design distinct from, say advertising, which you might read but you don’t really sit down and enjoy. It just grabs your attention long enough to sell you something. Editorial design needs to not just convey the message but enhance and embody the message, and sometimes it needs to disappear into the experience of reading and not keep drawing attention to itself. It is not an end in itself: it is a process. That is especially true of book design, my particular passion.
In this increasingly digitized world designing for print is almost anachronistic. A friend of mine who designs entirely for web sites said candidly she couldn’t stand the pressure of designing for a medium that cannot be immediately corrected (once in print any error is “permanent”; the beauty of the internet is it’s constantly updating and “correcting” itself). Personally, I like a sense of permanence—including the errors that go with it. There’s even a term for this in modern computer-speak: “reliable locatability”—something you only get with books.
That affection and respect for the material of the world is something that imbues all the articles in this issue—wine making, fishing, gardening, building a sauna, creating botanical art—all activities that draw from the physical world of the Keweenaw Peninsula to create something new but still tangible. Clearly located here, in this unique place and this present life.
Further North Issue 2: Life in the Heart of the Keweenaw
In Volume 2 we bring you gorgeous botanical illustrations of the Keweenaw's heritage apples, essays ranging from the importance of the Finnish sauna, to a profile of a local wine maker and a family fishery. Kids will enjoy Lesley DuTemple's essay on eagles on the Keweenaw and adventurous cooks (you…
Not only is November "National Adoption Month," but today is "Michigan Adoption Day" as well. Adoption gets so little attention usually (unless there is a scandal to report) that I didn't want to let the day pass without notice.
Our company's first
publishing adventure happened
because of adoption.
The Dragon's Daughters Return was a labor of love in many ways and one of our key goals with the book was to honor the strength and diversity of adoptive families in the United States. While our book deals specifically with international adoption from China, we are gratified by how well it resonates with children and parents of domestic adoption as well.
As a designer, and now as an independent publisher, creating a book that is meaningful to children, parents and educators on a subject as personal as how we form our families has been the source of great satisfaction.
Congratulations to all the new families celebrating today.
[In the photo above, some of the children featured in The Dragon's Daughters Return get there first look at the book at our publication party.]
What could be more Upper Peninsula? Well, O.K., maybe beer, and deer hunting, and four-wheeling but those just aren't subjects we are covering in the next issue of Further North.
And being a bit compulsive, I'm going to acknowledge again that I'm late, late, late with this issue. It's November not September, but here's the problem: when you work for love not money something's gotta give and usually what gives is scheduling. Our fledgling magazine has some of the most talented and generous contributors in the region and we are so excited to highlight them. We're sure you're going to find Issue 2 worth the wait. We will have essays on homemade wine making, fishing and family businesses, the all-important sauna, and our feature essay and art focus will be on Central Mines and the Heritage Apple Project.
So, while you're waiting for Issue 2, we hope you will continue to spread the word about Issue 1 which is still available for purchase online. We're optimistic that by the time we manage to assemble our 4th issue (no, I'm not predicting that date yet) we will be on the kind of financial footing that will allow for predictable publishing. In the meantime, we're on Yooper time...and loving it.
Driving Hwy. 41 while the sun is still rising, trying to keep my focus on the road instead of the pink-tinged clouds layered on the canvas of a robin's-egg-blue sky and the sharp contrast of the dark trees just beginning to turn orange, red, and yellow. Early Fall and early morning—two of my favorite times.
This will be one of those revelatory days—not in a biblical sense but in a literal sense of showing and telling what might otherwise go unrevealed. The sort of day when you know you have an extra sense meant for translating beauty out of experience. Because, God knows, experience is not always at first glance a beautiful thing.
And as if on cue I pass a newly posted sign along the roadway demanding, incongruously, "No Mosque at Ground Zero." Ground Zero—that site where we have concentrated our national shock at what the 21st century is. A national and international tragedy, hallowed ground to many, and, for too many, now the burial ground of their better selves and their national conscience.
Hate breeds hate, unless we starve the new growth.
I remember September 11, 2001 very well, but not nearly with the same searing memories as friends of mine who barely escaped the burning buildings or who lost family members and neighbors.
I lived in one of the nearby New Jersey towns effected directly by the attack. Children in our town left school that day in the midst of a tense, hushed and hurried need to get home and hear what was happening next. My daughter's first grade teacher carried on with her class, keeping the children busy and unaware while she waited to hear if her own daughter had made it out of lower Manhattan safely. Some children were picked up by family members who would be tasked with telling them a parent was dead. School administrators were scrambling to be certain every child would in fact have a parent to pick them up...no one knew for days with certainty who survived and who didn't. The smoke from the burning buildings, burning for days and days, was visible from the higher elevations of town.
As horrifying as all that was, one other memory survives in stark contrast to the burgeoning clouds of dust and smoke from the collapsed and burning buildings—the incongruously gorgeous, warm September morning complete with a clear, robin's-egg-blue sky that we all were enjoying just moments before the first plane hit.
It was the sort of early Fall morning that makes even a city as crowded and dirty as New York seem beautiful, seem as if it was the perfect expression of all that is right with humanity. I looked out over the distant skyline after driving my daughter to school thinking what a wonderful day for a trip to the city (I had an appointment with a client scheduled for later that morning). An appointment I never kept...my client would be walking out of Manhattan within hours along with so many other people stranded, not because they were near "Ground Zero," but because all traffic in and out of the city was stopped. An eerie, mass pilgrimage of business people took place on foot that day from Manhattan over the bridges to the other boroughs.
We all hang onto what we value any way we can. I understand that and don't blame anyone for feeling fear in the 21st century. But I think we need to really consider what we value and how we hang onto it.
I wonder if my neighbors who posted their anger on that Hwy 41 sign understand that the planned community center and mosque they don't want to see built two blocks away is intended as a bridge of mutual understanding not as a provocation. In fact, originally it was simply intended to be a nice addition to a diverse and bustling neighborhood where traveling from one block to another can be as revelatory as traveling from one country to another...something it is easy to lose sight of when living in this rural and sparsely populated place.
It is an attempt to translate something beautiful out of the horror of our complicated shared experiences. And from wher
The month of June came and went almost without my knowing it. With the publication of the first issue of Further North things at Thimbleberry Press just got busier, particularly with planning a celebration of the new publication.
But plan a party we have so mark you calendars for July 17, 7:00 p.m. to 9:00 p.m. and help us celebrate the launch of Further North magazine. We will hold our "official" party announcing the new publication at Grandpa's Barn Bookstore in Copper Harbor, Michigan. Since Copper Harbor is just about as far north as you can go on the Keweenaw Peninsula, and since the cover image of our premiere issue is a winter shot taken in Copper Harbor, it seems the perfect location for our first celebration.
We'll have light refreshments, and of course copies of the magazine on hand. Hope to see you there.
We are very excited, and exhausted, to announce that the first issue of our new magazine, Further North, has just been uploaded to the MagCloud.com site and is available to be previewed and purchased online at www.thimbleberrypress.magcloud.com. Whew.
We are immensely grateful to our talented contributors in this premiere effort: Kara Sokol, Katie Alvord, Suzanne Van Dam, Dave Clark, Steve Brimm, Bill Payne, Lesley DuTemple, Harvey Desknick and Dennis Walikainen. Editorial plans are underway for issue 2 which will be out in August (yes, I know, here I go promising a schedule again) and will have as a focus local foods. Anyone got any bright ideas for the art feature?
We're also in the planning stages for a launch celebration and will keep you posted on where, when and what that will be.
I know what you're thinking. She's going to tell us that Further North has gone to press and all is right with the world.
Close. Further North is getting so full of interesting content and fabulous photographers that I am still working on it. (The image at the top of this post gives you a sneak peek at pages showing one of those photographer's images--Harvey Desnick's wildflowers are so beautiful it was hard to limit myself to just two pages but we have three other featured photographers with equally gorgeous, but quite different, images of their own.)
So rather than further humiliate myself by claiming it will go to press on March 15 I'm just going to say we are so close. And we are so excited and encouraged by all the support and interest we are receiving that it's close to overwhelming (I'll pull myself together somehow though and focus on the tasks, and tasks, and tasks at hand).
OK, I can't tell you we are going to press yet, but I can report that we have our cover (thanks to the stunning, wide-angle photo of a frozen Copper Harbor provided by local photographer David Clark) and most of the content is being edited.
Now the really fun part begins: designing the inside pages with real articles and photos. For me, making a book or magazine out of an idea and into a concrete reality is the most exciting part of being a designer. If I can just pull this off before March 20 and the official start of Spring I won't even have to change the masthead--it will still be Vol. 1, Winter 2010!
Who else is going to drag me away from the computer and onto a boat for a trip to a lighthouse (with my dog in tow, no less)? Or remind me of all the things I do know when I'm preoccupied with all the things I don't know? A compatible partner is a marvelous, and I hope not a rare, thing.
It's not accurate to say that we nearly lost Virginia--she returned a full week before the earthquake struck in Haiti. But I keep thinking how unlikely it was that she was even there at all. And how quirky life is that she would return safely to pedestrian worries about car batteries and leaky furnace pipes while the people she met and interviewed just days ago literally had their world shaken out from under them.
It was her idea that Haiti's school children need a book that will help boost their pride in their own history and enhance their standing in the world community. And besides, Haiti is just an historically important and complex country whose story is not often told in more than sound bites and cliches. That's why she was on a research trip to Haiti just a week before the earthquake leveled their capitol. We now know that most (and hopefully, all) the people she met and traveled with survived unharmed. We don't know yet what their futures hold.
Partnerships will be critical. Will our country be a compatible partner for Haiti to rebuild with? Can we bring more than pity but also bring creativity, respect and strength of vision? This morning another strong aftershock hit that country and my mind moves again to my partner, Virginia, and how worried I know she is about her new friends and colleagues in another country.
Since she's in New Jersey and I'm in the Upper Peninsula I can't drag her off to take a boat ride, but I gave her the knickname "the unstoppable force" for a reason. Once her mind is set on a goal it is not likely to be stopped, even by a force of nature.
Look at that. I mean really. Look. Conifers sticking up out of the snow and I can't tell if the blue sky is advancing or retreating. January in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan.
I spent a large chunk of my life in the Pacific Northwest and swore never to return simply because the number of months spent under gray skies was unbearable for me. Why is this experience so different?
On a purely biological level I think it has to do with reflected light. Even on the grayest day it feels brighter because the ground is covered in white. On a more human level I think it has to do with the people. Yes, I still love my family and friends in Oregon and Washington but this place is a better fit. There is a casual stoicism, a make-due quality that still impresses me even after two winters.
Invite someone to dinner and they are as likely to bring slippers with them as wine. They need to have something to wear around your house after getting out of the layers of coats and boots needed to survive getting to your house. I love that. The leveling effect of extreme weather is refreshing to me after decades spent in metropolitan areas.
Whether you are a writer, a handy-man, a bartender, or a physicist you are appreciated and your light reflects here in ways that constantly surprise me.
Last night was the winter solstice, and even if I can't exactly see the days growing longer yet it helps to know that they are. Little by little spring will arrive, even up here in the frozen Keweenaw.
Likewise, little by little we are inching our way towards making our magazine about the Keweenaw a reality. Optimistically, we had planned to launch the first issue in January, but now (optimistically?) we are aiming for February and a Valentine's Day premiere. What can I say...we aren't Time, Inc. We just have to do the best we can to set deadlines (uh hum, goals) and meet them, or at least give them a nod in passing.
The name has been decided, Further North, and the feature articles for this first issue are in the works. We think it will be an issue work the wait, showcasing local talent and the creative spirit of the Keweenaw.
In the meantime, we have started a children's magazine called Adventures in the U.P. which was inspired by my current obsession with the family hound dog, Jack. Adventure #1: Jack-o'-lantern In the Snow is currently available for sale online at MagCloud--a marvelous print-on-demand magazine publishing site. We hope you'll check out and preview this new kid's magazine and send the link on to anyone who might like to share the quirkiness and beauty of the U.P. with a child in their life.
Wishing you a peaceful holiday season and a fruitful, joyful New Year.
Slowly, but surely, we are making progress on our first volume in the Words Work series. About Work: Poems for Life's Labor is starting to take shape and we still hope it can see the light of day this winter.
Do you have a favorite poem that fits the theme? We are always open to suggestions as we pull together poems we think will be both accessible to a wide public and representative of imaginative and powerful language. Art is work, and work can be art. Here the two will meet in print.
for our new magazine, that is.
In January, 2010, we will launch a quarterly magazine devoted to the people, places, and things that make the Lake Superior's Keweenaw Peninsula in Michigan, both past and present, so compelling. But what to name this magazine?
A dear friend calls the Keweenaw Peninsula "Brigadoon" after the 1950’s musical about the enchanted Scottish village preserved forever in a simpler, idealized past. Well, my friend should know. Having grown up here, moved away for his career, and returned again he jokes that the veil of mist lifts as you cross the lift bridge into Hancock.
The Brigadoon of musical theater literally disappears into the mists of time only materializing one day every 100 years. Today's Keweenaw Peninsula is certainly not frozen in time (although some may argue about that come February), and while this place does derive a lot of its energy and mystique from its colorful copper mining history--a history that made the Keweenaw a national and global destination at one time--it is also powered by the people living here today who are meeting its contemporary challenges while minding that history and the natural beauty of the landscape.
We are launching our magazine with a keen appreciation for the hardships and enchantments of this isolated, rugged, whimsical, sometimes cranky, always surprising and beautiful place. We will profile ex-urbanites who belatedly discovered the Keweenaw, woodsmen who hunt, fish and keep pigs, high-tech professors, artists, and entrepreneurs. There will be creative non-fiction by local (and non-local) writers, photography by local and regional photographers, articles on history, plants, wildlife, articles on art, business, hunting, sports, the climate (how do we survive 25 feet of snow?), the plethora of writers, artists and crafts people who live and work here...a young people's page, you name it....
No, really, you name it. And if we choose your name for the magazine you will receive (along with fame, if not fortune!) a year's subscription to the magazine.
Here's all you have to do:
1. Come up with a perfect name.
2. Click on the "Comments" button at the end of this blog post.
3. Type a quick note with your name, email address, and your idea for the magazine's name. (Or if you'd rather shoot us an email you can send your idea to Laura Smyth at [email protected].)
We hope to hear from you, we hope you will share this blog post with friends, family, co-workers and anyone you can think who might be interested or who shares our love of the Keweenaw Peninsula.
Reverence is a word I don't use very often, and when I hear it used, too often I find my nerves jangled by the hollowed-out religious meanings that attach to it. To revere something or some one or some place is to, according to my Oxford English Dictionary, give it "deep and due respect." And while the old Presbyterian church on Fifth Street in Calumet, Michigan is no longer a house of worship, it is a revered space being reshaped to give deep and due respect to the community, to the creative process, and to the heritage and future of this region.
The Calumet Art Center is just getting started and with continued community support and a lot of hard work the old church is becoming a place where people of any age and any background can bring art into their daily life. The art reading room is being set up now and the Center is accepting contributions of art books. Fund raisers are in the works. Drum circles are already taking place in this wonderful old church's basement every month. Music lessons are being scheduled (the church retains a beautiful pipe organ, but piano, flute and voice lessons are also happening this fall). Concerts and lectures in this space will be memorable not only for their content but for the space itself with the polished wooden pews surrounded by intact, ornate stained glass.
We don't live in a very reverential time, and that is usually fine with me: there is nothing worse than someone or something or even some place being given undue respect. But taking an old space, saving it, respecting it, and reinventing its purpose in the community is truly an act of reverence that I am happy to participate in.
One of the reasons we chose the name "thimbleberry" for our press is that the berry itself is so packed with seeds and the plant thrives is rough terrain. I'm not superstitious, but that seems like a good image to hold in mind when starting a publishing company during a recession: use every resource at your disposal to pack as much content into each bit of "fruit" you produce.
Summer is almost gone and the berry season is long past its peak, so it's time for me to get back to this company business plan I promised to write about. I haven't managed to tackle the portion of the plan that requires numbers yet (my partners have started that dreaded task but I'm keeping my head down for the time being). So, here is the first bit of our company vision statement...
Section 3.
B. Vision Statement:
Creativity drives economic development. Thimbleberry Press aims to combine the discipline of the arts with the discipline of commerce to flourish as a company, as individuals, and to help our community thrive. Our view is that high culture/low culture is a false paradigm depriving too many people of the richness of their own creativity and depriving the larger community of the potential fruits of that creativity. We envision contributing to the well-being of the community through the publication of books and downloadable educational materials that promote individual creative and intellectual development as well as cross cultural understanding.
That is a distillation (and I'm not happy with having used the word paradigm...where is my thesaurus?...) but it's a start.
We've also been developing the next group of publications (you can see some sample covers and learn more about these upcoming books at our website).
And if you know any teachers or parents who could benefit from downloadable, inexpensive materials about China for their children, send them to our web page for a free download sample of Draw On Culture.
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So cool! I thought I saw a Snowy Owl perched on a tree as we were driving home from downstate last week. Not sure though.
Wow! The things you don't know that happen right under your nose. Very cool.