Talk about it, talk about it, talk about it...

Okay, it’s obvious anyway so I might as well admit it… I’m a publicity hound. I love talking about Water Cooler Diaries. On the radio. To newspaper and magazine reporters. To poor defenseless browsers at the bookstore, with whom I can’t help but strike up a conversation about this fabulous new book that’s just come out about working women across America…

The past few weeks have been great, meaning I’ve had lots and lots of opportunities to publicize Water Cooler Diaries. One of the interviews was with Lisa Belkin on her talk show on XM Satellite Radio. Lisa has written New York Times columns and a book on the subject of life-work balance. After we finished our “live to tape” interview, Lisa told me how she actually had to answer a text message from her son while we were recording the show, something about him needing a ride. That story alone reveals why Lisa is an expert in the realities of modern motherhood.

I also got to chat about Water Cooler Diaries with Lolis Garcia-Baab, whose radio show “The Ladies Room with Lolis” airs in El Paso and Austin. Lolis invited me and another day diarist, Angela Dugan, (a professional doll sculptor who makes incredibly life-like baby dolls) to join her for the whole hour of the show. In truth, the three of us could have gabbed all day about women and work, kids, our hubbies, sleep deprivation… Actually, Lolis and Angela could have gabbed all day in two languages, given that they’re both bilingual.

And then there was my interview with a reporter for a weekly community newspaper. As is sometimes the case, this young writer clearly hadn’t read or even seen the cover of Water Cooler Diaries, since her initial question to me was, “How do you spell your first name.” (For the record it’s J…O…N…I). This reporter was doing me a kindness though, writing an article about the book, and given that she probably gets paid in copies, I appreciate her taking the time.

And then there was my 6:40 a.m. phone interview with Dr. Alvin Augustus Jones on the Paradise Radio Network in Oxford, North Carolina. I have a thing for men with Southern accents, so just hearing the way he told his listeners I was an author from Virr-mont made me blush in my flannel jammies. (Remember, this was a phone interview first thing in the morning.) Alvin is a real pro; he’s done countless interviews with famous people. In fact, his show’s tag line is, Where World Leaders and Thinkers Come to Chat. So even though I was only on the air with him for about seven minutes, I’ve now added that to my credentials.

Given all the advantages of doing publicity—I get to have conversations with interesting people across the country, plug my book, feel popular and important—it’s no wonder I’m a publicity hound. Which reminds me... If you’re reading this and just happen to be a radio or television talk show host, or a newspaper or magazine reporter from the legitimate press, or even a hack or a bored blogger whose tired of posting pictures of your cat, how about giving me a call? My contact info is below.

Joni B. Cole, World Leader and Thinker. (That’s J…O…N…I).

Off to the Printer!

Just last week, the final typeset files for the third “This Day” book were shipped to the printer.

Phew.

The book—now called Water Cooler Diaries: Women across America Share Their Day at Work—will be released in early March from Da Capo Lifelong Books, part of the Perseus Book Group. I can’t wait to see an actual printed copy, but right now seems like a good time to look back, rather than forward, to reflect on how this book became a reality.

For me, much of this past year was a whirlwind—from what I can remember! First were the months spent doing my part to invite women across the country to participate in the book project. Then more months spent reading and re-reading hundreds of day diaries. Then the long process of choosing which entries to feature, trolling through thousands of excerpts, constituting the book, reconstituting the book, editing the book, interviewing day diarists, brainstorming titles, writing copy for the back cover, and doing all the other things it takes to see a book through to publication. (Just the process of getting our author photo taken seemed Herculean, given that Bindi and I both had to not blink or look goofy at the same time.)

I have to admit, on some of those marathon workdays this past year, when my eyes burned from editing at the computer screen for hours on end, and when summer vacation came and went (mostly with me saying to my then eight-year-old daughter for the umpteenth time, “Go find something to do on your own...”), I had a few mental meltdowns. But then I got a grip. Because creating this book truly has been a labor of love.

As with the two earlier This Day volumes, Water Cooler Diaries reinforces an important message. Every woman is interesting (including all those participants who asked us, "But why would anyone want to read about my day?") After reading thousands of day diaries over three book projects, I believe this now more than ever. Young, old, rich, poor, working with or without a paycheck, we all have meaningful moments worth writing about, even in our “ordinary” days.

Seeing Water Cooler Diaries off to the printer is hardly the end of my “To Do” list. I’ve moved on to other projects, other deadlines, and of course I'm already in the throes of publicity efforts for the new book's release in early March. But I’d be remiss not to stop, if only briefly, and take this day to appreciate what has already been achieved.

We did it! Me, Bindi, Nancy (our webmistress and dear friend), Katie McHugh (our editor at Da Capo Lifelong Books), Lisa Bankoff (our agent at ICM), Kim Erlichson (who helped set in motion the National Day Diary Project with Colgate's Lady Speed Stick 24/7), dozens of organizations and friends and readers who supported the book project, and of course the hundreds of day diarists across the country who volunteered to chronicle a day in their life on March 27, 2007.

Together, we made Water Cooler Diaries a reality. So congratulations to each and every one of us, and thank you one and all!

Joni

In Good Company

When I first thought of the concept for the This Day book series about six years ago, my family was going through a hard time. My dad had suffered a massive stroke only a few weeks earlier, so even as the first This Day book was taking shape, I was spending a lot of time traveling back and forth by train from my home in White River Junction, Vermont to Lancaster, Pennsylvania where my parents lived and my dad was hospitalized.

One week I’d arrive at the hospital and my dad was on a respirator. The next week he was off the respirator. One week he needed a PEG tube. The next week he could swallow. Some days he’d act like the dad I always knew. Some days he was gone. After months of ICUs and false hopes and incremental progress, my dad ended up in a nursing home. He was paralyzed on his left side and diminished both physically and mentally but, as it turned out, he still had some good days, even years, left.

For me, launching the first This Day book during such an emotional time proved to be both an obsession and a blessing. Immersing myself in the daily lives of other women around the country allowed me to get out of my own head. It made it possible to titrate my grief, right at a time when I needed meaningful distraction.

Flash forward six years, two published This Day books, and about two-thousand submitted day diaries later. In May 2007, in the midst of creating the third book in the series, my dad had another massive stroke; this one on the other side of his brain. His chances of survival were slim to none. So, once again, I found myself taking the train from Vermont to Pennsylvania, a stack of day diaries occupying the seat next to me. Once again, I found comfort in the process of immersing myself in other women’s daily lives.

At readings and during interviews, people often ask, “What’s the value of women writing about and sharing a day in their lives? “Perspective,” I typically answer, but that doesn’t quite cover it. You may be twenty-something or a great-grandma; you may be on a career high or looking for work; you may be black or white, single or married, liberal or conservative, or even have different favorites on American Idol, but you will always find, after reading another woman’s day diary, a point of connection, a bit of inspiration, a lesson, a laugh.

During that last train trip to say goodbye to my dad, I traveled alone, but I kept good company. I read a day diary from a woman in her late forties who was worried about her used bookstore going under, and whether her pregnant daughter was taking good care of herself. I enjoyed a day of fresh air with a young marine biologist who was documenting whale behavior from a research vessel off the coast of Cape Cod. I shared the first-person perspective of a busy single mom as she raced from a manager’s meeting to her teenage son’s wrestling match where (once again) she found herself in charge of supplying the team snacks.

Who knows? Maybe I wouldn’t enjoy the company of these women in real life. Maybe we wouldn’t be able to see past our differences, or find a mutually convenient date in our overcrowded day-planners to visit over coffee or a couple glasses of wine. But, for me, that only reinforces the value of reading other women’s day diaries. On that long train ride from Vermont to Pennsylvania, these women hung in there with me, and I hung out with them. By sharing so intimately a day in their lives, I found, if not friendship, then something very much akin to it, on a day in my life when I needed friends most.

Joni

The SMT

Last week, I went to New York City to do a Satellite Media Tour (or SMT, as they say in the business) to help launch the National Day Diary Project, co-sponsored by This Day and Colgate’s Lady Speed Stick 24/7. Cohn & Wolfe (Colgate’s public relations firm) and KEF Media (another public relations firm specializing in television news and media placement) arranged the whole thing. I was the spokesperson for the National Day Diary Project, which meant I did 31 (or was it 32?) TV and radio interviews back-to-back in seven hours.

A typical day in my life, not!

On the morning of the SMT, a driver picked me up at my hotel at 5:30 a.m. and drove me to Chelsea Television Studios (home of the Martha Stewart Show!). First things first—hair and make-up. My make-up artist was gorgeous and sweet and chatty. She told me stories about working at the Oscars and her new boyfriend who writes for People Magazine, all of which took my mind off the fact that I was about to go on live television. She also told me that she used to be Donald Trump’s make-up artist, but reassured me his wife does his hair.

On the set—designed to resemble a working woman’s kitchen with dishes in the sink and a laptop on the counter—the media experts reviewed messaging with me. “Reiterate the National Day Diary Project...” “Mention the website early on...” “Emphasize women’s 24-hour lifestyles...” They reminded me to talk into the camera; be perky; be myself. (Are you sure you want me to be myself?!) The audio guy attached a microphone to my new berry-colored wrap dress (no prints, no distracting jewelry!). Assistants offered to bring me coffee. Was I hungry? Was I cold? Did I need anything? (I could get used to this!)

6:45 a.m. The first interview! The floor producer (who was stationed beside the camera) wrote the name of the anchor and where the show was airing on her white board: Beth in Charlotte, North Carolina.

“Good morning, Joni. Thanks for joining us...”

“Thanks for having me, Beth...”

The interview took two, maybe three minutes, though it seemed even shorter. We talked about why people love to read about other people’s lives. I encouraged women to participate in the National Day Diary Project and spread the word. The anchor gushed about the current This Day in the Life book now on store shelves. (Thank you!) Then Beth in Charlotte was followed by Cindi in Louisville, followed by Julie in Waco, followed by Rick in Albuquerque, followed by Terrance and Bonny in Memphis... (Click http://www.kefmediastream.com/jc_wghp.wmv to view one of the interviews.)

Since the inception of This Day over five years ago, I’ve dreamed about this kind of attention for the book project, and a day diary phenomenon that allows all women to share in the experience of creating and swapping day diaries, beyond the page parameters of a book, or even a book series. I’ve spent countless hours contacting the media, sending out books, and shushing my two little girls as I did live radio interviews from the upstairs phone in my house. And I’ve (obviously) done my own hair and make-up.

Now, thanks to a corporate partner, two PR firms, the Associated Press, and thousands of day diarists and supporters, the message is really getting out there. I said it for seven hours straight during the SMT, and I’ll say it again. Every woman is interesting. Every day has meaningful moments. Your voice, your perspective is unique and matters. So pick a day—a single day—and create a day diary of 24 hours of your life. It’s easy. It’s fun. And it’s a great way to discover how special you really are! Click www.my247life.com for tips on how to create a day diary and participate in the National Day Diary Project.

--Joni

Fresh out of time but no worries

Earlier this afternoon I had a moment of complete and utter panic. It happened as I was filing confirmation forms, right after my third major paper cut (I keep track of these things). There I was, filing away, amazed yet again that this awesome group of 500-strong women had said yes to two complete strangers and blammo. Panic. I went from reveling straight to freaking out because the confirmation deadline is tomorrow and I still have this list of women I want to invite and jobs I must know about and this pile of website printouts and newspaper clippings and pages torn from magazines and sticky notes with ideas scribbled in the middle of the night that I need to research and…I’m fresh out of time. I sat on the floor in Joni’s back room (aka our This Day office), surrounded by piles of confirmation forms and green hanging file folders, and gradually came to the realization that it wasn’t the end of the world. I could take that list of names, the pile of clippings and printouts and put them in a folder and save them for the next This Day book. So I did. Panic-free, just like that.

-Bindi

p.s. I did go through the pile and I sent out one final, eleventh-hour email invite, to Ben & Jerry’s. Had to, cause they’re also Vermonters and that ice cream has gotten me through many a situation.

Welcome to My World

With the temperature in the single digits here in Vermont, lately I’ve been hiding out at my house even more than usual. Blame it on my homebody personality, or my thin blood, but either way I suspect I’m starting to look like Ed Sullivan from slouching at my desk for hours on end, partly to conserve body heat, and partly because my computer screen is about six-inches too low. But I can’t be bothered with ergonomics or vanity at the moment. I’m addicted to reading e-mail.

Every day a slew of new “Confirmation Forms” arrives in my in-box from women who have generously agreed to be day diarists in the book project. Stephanie, a firefighter from Ohio who plays women’s pro football. Donna from Baton Rouge, who put her business of 20 years on hold to help families recover from Hurricane Katrina. Sarah, an educator at an aquarium who would scuba dive every week if she could.

I pour over the responses these women offer to the questions on the form: What do you like best (or least) about your job? What activities or interests are important to you? What is the most important thing you’d like others to understand about you? Glenna, a school secretary from Nebraska, sends out 150 Christmas cards each year. Sarah disposes of explosives for the military and enjoys the theater. Sally, a chief medical examiner from Washington, loves her job, but doesn’t always like being the boss. “Sometimes, I would rather just do autopsies…”

Here I sit, day after day, bundled in my balding, brown, fleece pullover, a woman of few talents, many fears, and no interest in skiing or scrap-booking, or cutting up corpses and weighing their organs. Yet, thanks to this book project, I am living vicariously hundreds of lives. I know the thrill of designing roller coasters, and the downside of being a bra fit specialist (Bridezillas). I understand what it takes to be a missile analyst in Alabama, and I know the fun of being an underground crusher operator in Missouri, skipping the rocks to the surface.

My world has opened up. Every day, I am learning new things. I am getting to know remarkable women who are making a difference and doing cool things. Ellen, a Girl Scout leader from Hawaii; Angie, a celebrity supermodel; Laurel, an oncology social worker who studies religious scripture and mysticism. Why leave the house; why leave my desk when milliners, executive assistants, shark wranglers, video game designers, world-class opera singers, church secretaries, erotic photographers, truck drivers, Army Reserve specialists, professional organizers, ranchers, and VPs of major corporations all come to me in the form of an e-mail.

What is the most important thing you’d like others to understand about you? I read the response from Lana, a 64-year-old program coordinator at a women’s rescue mission in Montana. She writes, “I am happier than I have ever been. I am living the best part of my life right now!” Yes! Yes, Lana! I raise my mug of cold coffee in a gesture of solidarity. I know just how you feel! I really do! Then I hunch myself deeper in my balding, fleece pullover, and I wait for the next Confirmation Form to appear in my in-box.

-Joni

Brief encounters of the celebrity kind

Celebrities are not like us. What with being rich and famous and having second homes for their second homes. Sure, they put their pants on one leg at a time, but they have people to help them. Or so I always thought, until recent brief encounters with two famous women set me straight. Anoushka Shankar was a featured day diarist in our first This Day book and Rosanne Cash in the second book. I got backstage invites to their concerts, which sounds very glamorous but bear in mind that this is backstage at a college performance hall, not backstage at La Scala. But maybe backstage is backstage? Beat-up wooden floors, gray lockers lining the passage, fluorescent lighting, mis-matched chairs, a fire extinguisher. Folding table with a cellophane wrapped gift basket, soda cans, knocked-over stack of paper cups.

Rosanne in concert is fantastic; if you haven’t seen her, you must. I was simultaneously caught up in the music and hyperventilating about meeting her. I practiced my casual yet clever conversation and imaged the banter, the instant rapport, and the life-long friendship that would follow. Of course, it went nothing like that. I knock on the stage door – Authorized Personnel Only – explain who I am to the guy who did the after-show Q&A – I wrote a book? Rosanne’s in it? – he nods and lets the door shut behind him. It’s the kind that locks automatically. So I knock again. And again – am I knocking too loud? - feeling like a complete rube, despite my rural chic outfit of jeans, not-too-trendy top, and tweed and dark pink suede three inch slingbacks. Once I’m in – I wrote a book? – Rosanne’s in it? – it’s over in what seems like a heartbeat. She’s lovely. And gracious and friendly to this tongue-tied stranger who’s made all sorts of assumptions from having read her day diary entry and seen her on the TV. She kindly signs my copy of This Day in the Life (page 360) while I mangle inanities about how nice to meet her. Sheesh. Then she’s gone and I’m in the car headed home.

And meeting Anoushka? See above (different outfit, same shoes). Fantastic concert, gorgeous and so sweet, signs my copy of This Day (page 16). This time I manage an actual, albeit brief, conversation, ask if she’s ever re-read her day diary entry (yes) and if her life is calmer now (no, it’s much crazier).

After my celebrity encounters, I’m left with what can only be described as a ‘warm fuzzy.’ Anyone who knows me knows I don’t suffer fools or warm fuzzies, but these women, famous with a capital F, were generous enough to share a day in their lives and gracious enough to share a moment backstage. So maybe, just maybe, they put on their own pants? I like to think so.

--Bindi