Category Archives: career

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Building a blog tribe

hearthfire

I never used to care how many readers I had.

When I first started blogging in 2002, I was afraid to attach my name to it, afraid to put myself all the way out there. I wanted to write publicly, but didn’t necessarily want people knowing who I was. I was living in Prague and wanted family and friends to know what I was up to. Family members followed my blog, but very few friends did.

I don’t envy those of you who blog as a profession. I can’t imagine being dependent on hits for my income. To me that’s really scary. I want to blog what I want to blog and not worry about my following.

For most of its life, Rhymes with Safari had about six readers, and that was just fine with me.

As I get ready to start querying agents for my memoir, Bark and Lunge, I’m constantly hearing that I need to build a platform. I need to show prospective agents and editors that I can attract a following. They want to know that more than six people will buy my book.

To that end, I’ve joined some social networking groups aimed at expanding one’s blogging reach, and I’ve more than doubled my Twitter following… to a whopping 96 tweeps.

I’ve made a few changes around here. I bought the domain KariNeumeyer.com a few months back, and you’ll notice that’s now the default URL. Right now, both KariNeumeyer and RhymeswithSafari will get you here, but I may not renew RhymeswithSafari.com a year from now.

I’ve also been advised to establish myself as a dog blogger, and not blog about unrelated topics. That way, publishers will recognize that I am the right person to write a memoir about loving an aggressive dog.

Interestingly and probably unfortunately, my dog posts don’t attract the most readers. My travel posts last year seemed wildly popular among total strangers.

In Brooke Warner’s book What’s Your Book? she talks about losing interest in a travel writer whose blog wasn’t entirely about travel. I feel for that blogger. I wouldn’t be able to sustain a travel-only blog year-round, not the way I blogged during my last trip.

I probably could write about nothing but dogs, but I fear that would get boring. Post after post about Leo chewing a piece of furniture, or Mia stealing his toys. I mean I could look at pictures of my dogs forever. Could you?

Besides, there are lots of dog blogs out there. There’s only one KariNeumeyer, and she also likes to talk about movies, and describe her experiences at the walk-in clinic and emergency room.

I am allowed to write about writing and the process of getting published though, so at least this post is acceptable.

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Getting organizized in 2013

You know that feeling like you left something behind? Or there was something you were supposed to do? Or you walk into a room and forget what you walked in there for?

Yeah. That.

My first day back at work after the holiday, I overslept egregiously. Mind you, I like to sleep in, but rarely do I actually OVERsleep to the point that I open my eyes, see that it’s 9:30 and think, OMG WTF how did it get that late?

See, since Rob started his new job, I’ve been driving him to work every morning. While I was in Los Angeles over Christmas, he drove himself, and we never discussed whether he’d drive himself or if I’d drive him this week. So I expected him to wake me at 7:10 yesterday. He did not.

I unhurriedly got myself together. (What? It was the first day back after a holiday. Besides, my office just moved. All I had to do this week was unpack.) As it turned out, I needn’t have gotten to work any earlier than 10:30 anyway, because the furniture had not been delivered and the Internet not hooked up. So I went home to work the rest of the day there.

Today, I set an alarm, got out the door closer to my usual time, and was halfway to the office when I realized that I left my cell phone at home. Normally, I wouldn’t go back for it, but since the phone hasn’t been hooked up yet at the new office either, it was my only means of communication. After turning around and going back, I beat yesterday’s arrival time by a half hour.

Still no Internet, but I spent the morning decorating my wall. My new office has very high ceilings, and I have even more Salmon Homecoming and Festival of the River posters, so I’ll need to get a ladder in there to finish the job.

wall (13)

I love that bulletin board. I mean, I really love it. Love it so much I’ve even blogged about it before. There’s a open space in the center for a picture of Isis, which I brought home with me, because it wasn’t secured very well and I didn’t want it to get lost when the bulletin board got moved. (I love it so much, I wanted to move it intact.)

I almost didn’t hang the bulletin board today, because as you can see, it requires two nails. I started to mark the space on the wall when I realized that I didn’t have a level. Leaning the board against the wall, I thought, “I’ll bring a level next week and hang it then.” I went ahead and hung the framed print on the left. Rob got that for me at a garage sale, and it shows a tribal canoe paddling past the Seattle skyline, Space Needle and all. Then I hung the framed Seattle Times article below  it. The front page article from summer 2010 used photos I took of the epic Fraser River sockeye fishery.

By then, I thought, what the hell and went ahead and hung the bulletin board. I may have had to hammer in one of the nails twice. It may or may not actually be hung straight.

If you know anything about me and Rob, you know that I’m the self-described uptight one, and he’s the easygoing one. So it struck me as funny today, the yin and yang of our frame-hanging personalities. I get so eager to see stuff on the walls, I’ll stick pushpins in without a thought to layout or angle. I’ll hammer a nail, step back and see that it’s not straight, pull out the nail and hammer it in again.

Rob takes measurements. He uses a level. He puts thought into the matter. He is precise.

Before I met him, it wouldn’t have occurred to me to use a level to hang a bulletin board. I didn’t even own a level. I made do without one today, and I think my wall looks spectacular.

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Hazy shade of autumn

I apologize to my new readers and old friends who grew accustomed to my daily postings. I surprised even myself with how often I blogged during my trip. Now that I’m back home, my goal is to post at least once a week, but I’d love to find as much wonder in my daily life as I found during my travels. Treat every day like an exciting adventure.

Jet lag’s always worse coming home, and an 11-hour time difference is one of the hardest to overcome. Add to that the resurgence of my head cold, and I’ve been in kind of a fog since we got home Monday. I’ve been sleeping fine. Getting out of bed is the hard part.

I’m back at the office today and felt like I was fading to black just before lunch. Eyes glazing over, thinking, If I just had a bed (or a couch) I could fall asleep right this second. I considered going home, but instead decided to grab a bite and take Mia for our regularly scheduled noontime walk. I can’t guarantee I’ll last until the end of the day, but the fresh air (and mango shrimp and rice) revived me quite a bit.

Yet another reason dogs in the workplace are a very, very good thing. She gets me up and moving. I was tempted to just eat and come straight back to my desk. Too tired to walk. But that wouldn’t be fair to her. So we strolled through a woodsy trail that is both roadside and riverside. I unhooked Mia’s leash as we got to the stretch that is protected from the road. Usually, she trots off ahead of me, but today, she looked over her shoulder with a huge smile, like “I’m so happy you’re home,” and walked beside me a little longer.

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Trapped at my house with my two best friends

Seems like lots of people already are having cabin fever thanks to Snowpocalypse 2012: Pacific Northwest. Not me. Remember, I spent two straight weeks in a chair without going farther than 20 steps out the back door. We had Christmas lights on the front of the house for more than a week before I even saw them.

I’ve been waiting eagerly for snow for months and I’m so happy that my trip to Hawaii last week didn’t interfere with my enjoyment of this weather.

Here’s where I was a week ago:

I’m not sure when exactly I became one of those ladies who can’t travel because she doesn’t want to be away from her dogs, but I had a hard time leaving them for a whole week. Rob’s parents usually dogsit, but since they were the ones taking us on this trip, that wasn’t possible. I kept telling myself I was being irrational. Like, would I REALLY rather stay in freezing, gray Washington and go to work instead of spend a week in Waikiki? No, of course not, but it took me a full day of vacation before I could let myself relax completely, give in to paradise. And oh, my, was it a wonderful trip. We all got along so well and it was absolutely worth leaving my doggies for seven days, although really, I think we should give some thought to going to a beach resort that accepts German shepherds.

Rob took these pictures the day we left and I looked at them longingly every day:

After we got back last week, I worked from home for a few days, went into the office Friday, had yesterday off for Martin Luther King Jr. Day. And now…Snowmageddon! Mind you, I have my computer at home and I can get as much done here as I would if I braved the icy roads, so technically, I’m still working. Everyone else in the universe is playing. Snow Day!

Also, I have a new camera, so it’s actually my JOB to learn how to use it by taking these pictures:

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Pet therapy

I’m lucky to live in a region where it is socially acceptable to bring your dogs everywhere. Even if you can’t take them into a store or restaurant, no one looks at you funny if you leave them in the car.

My workplace also is a fairly dog friendly place. I’ve been on salmon spawning surveys with dogs that tromped through the creeks, and didn’t necessarily come when called. One natural resources department has a dog as an unofficial staffer; He even has his own reflective construction vest to wear on habitat projects.

Last Wednesday, the day Isis died, I had Leo with me. We went to a couple of restored estuaries to take pictures. While officially, perhaps I’m not “supposed” to take my dog to work, I couldn’t help thinking that no one would blame me for taking Leo along. We had a wonderful day taking long scenic walks, but boy, would it have been boring without him.

Three different times during the day, I had flashes of something terrible happening to Leo. What if the tailgate of the SUV opened and he went flying out the back of the car on the freeway? What if a hunter accidentally shot us? What if one of those barking dogs broke through its wooden fence and attacked us?

 

Anyway, I have a feeling no one would blame me for bringing Leo to the office now, either.

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My alternative lifestyle

While on vacation the three days before Christmas, I decided to pretend I’m a different kind of writer. The kind the writes from home.

I volunteered to turn in 10 pages at my fiction writing class on the first day back after the break. On top of that, we have another writing assignment we’re supposed to read out loud.

Between the days off this week and two next week, I should be able to write 10 pages easily. But I’m having a hard time. I can’t visualize what it is that I’m writing about, is the problem, I think. Sentence construction like the previous is another. Problem.

I should just write write, not care if it’s good and go back and revise later.

If I were self-employed, this is what my day would be like:

  • Take Leo to the dog park from 9-10.
  • Play with Isis in the backyard.
  • Shower.
  • Sit at computer and check e-mail, Twitter and Facebook.
  • Eat.
  • Maybe write something.
  • Take Isis for a walk.
  • Play with Leo in the backyard.
  • Write?
  • Talk to Rob when he gets home from work between 4 and 5.

Given this, I did write 1,000 words yesterday. While walking Leo a short while ago (we skipped the dog park, it was raining), I decided I would have a solid 2,000 words by the end of the day and also make some headway on the other assignment, which is to write obituaries for some of my characters. Harder than I thought it would be.

I’m hungry.

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Felt + Snow = Bad

The chronicles of inappropriate footwear continue.

A few years ago, when I was shopping for the waders and boots I need for my job taking pictures while waist deep in rivers, I was under the impression I wanted felt-soled boots, to keep my feet from slipping on wet rocks. I have since recognized that rubber soles would be better in sandy marine environments, but most of my work is done in rivers.

I was a little nervous about today’s excursion because it was supposed to be 32 degrees and perhaps snowing. Last night, I laid out my fleece long underwear, sweats and wool socks to wear under the waders. I set out my North Face winter jacket. Yep, it’s time.

I also packed some snacks for Leo, who would wait in the car during my river walk. And made sure my memory card was in my camera and that my camera battery was charged and inside the camera. (Because one time I discovered after getting on a boat that I left the camera battery in the charger.)

But I forgot to bring my North Face jacket.

I worried nearly the whole way upriver that I would freeze to death, but actually, that wasn’t the problem. I was perfectly comfortable with a raincoat over a fleece jacket. The problem was the snow speckled on the creekside grass.

We didn’t spend as much time walking in the river channel as on the snowy grass. Within 10 steps, I had a thick accumulation of snow on my felt sole. My companion said, “Felts are the worst.”

Really? I thought I was supposed to have felts!

It was rough going, walking on frozen “rocker soles.” Like, if Lady Gaga wore fishing boots and then attached a rounded sole made of ice. That’s what these felt like.

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Wasted time

Last night, my novel-writing teacher described her creative process. “It’s not very efficient, but then, being creative is rarely efficient.”

I’m efficient in a great many ways. The journalistic writing that earns my paycheck, generally, is efficient. But other aspects of my life are not.

I walked around on a broken sesamoid bone for six months before I knew it was broken. How much further along in my healing I would be if I’d known from the outset that it was broken.

Isis has displayed serious anxiety for more than two years, and we only started her on Prozac a month ago. Could I have saved the expense of four root canals, and would she not have worn all her teeth down if I’d put her on Prozac sooner?

We’ve had Leo since late June and the dogs still can’t be loose in the same room together. How many months will it be before our dogs can cohabitate? Is there something I could have done differently from day one that would have made a difference? How much time have I wasted doing the wrong thing?

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Leo is still recovering from his surgery. The day after, he was leaping around so aggressively that I worried he would hurt himself, so we went back to the vet to get a cone and some sedatives. I’ve been very sparing with the sedatives, only giving them to him for his own safety, and not because, like, I’d like him to go to sleep and shut up for a few hours.

His incision looked fine to me, so I didn’t make him wear the cone. I didn’t realize that he would be more likely to lick the incision as it heals because it itches. The whole area looked inflamed to me on Tuesday so I took him back to the vet. They said it was fine. It looked inflamed and oozy to me on Wednesday, but I didn’t want to be a hysterical dog mom who brought him in every single day, so I waited until Friday. When they told me it was infected. Was it already infected on Tuesday? How much faster he would have healed if we started him on the antibiotics three days sooner!

So he’s pretty much wearing the cone all the time. I take it off for training exercises and walks. It looks better, but I’ll feel better when the scab falls off. He’s not going back to daycare until that happens.

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Fashion inertia

It was drawn to my attention recently that journalists don’t know how to dress. Young women sometimes enter the field knowing how to dress, but within five years, they’ve lost their style.

I certainly was a lot more stylish when I was a newspaper reporter than I am now. In fact, I was overdressed for most of the first year I worked for a newspaper in Northwest Washington. Inevitably, I’d be wearing the wrong shoes, or a skirt, on the day I had to chase down a wayward whale. Or pick daffodils.

When I worked in the state capital, I rarely wore jeans, because you never knew when you might have to cover an event with the governor in attendance. I remember the exact outfit I wore when I first met the governor. Knee-length black skirt, sheer blue-green top over a tank top. You know what I was wearing when I saw the governor two months ago? Khakis, a T-shirt and hiking shoes.

In my defense, it was an outdoor event on a summer day, but many other people in attendance seemed to think it was a skirt/suit and tie affair. (The governor, as I recall, was wearing a button-down shirt and white pants, so not overly formal.)

Is my lack of style a result of being a journalist for 10 years…or is it the result of working as a journalist for an outdoorsy operation in the Pacific Northwest? I went to a work-related funeral last month and was one of maybe five women wearing a black skirt. I would have fit in fine in my khakis, T-shirt and hiking shoes.

The unfortunate side effect of never wearing anything other than jeans, khakis, T-shirt, sweatshirt or fleece is that I am not current on cute outfits for going to a nice dinner or a concert (or a funeral). At this time, I do not have any “nice pants” that fit. I have a few dresses, but they don’t look quite right with the “special shoes” I have to wear for my broken foot.

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Inertia and the killer whale

I’ve invoked Newton’s law on this blog before. A body at rest tends to stay at rest. Even if she’s had a really boring day at her desk. She might learn of an opportunity to get away from the desk and think, “Nah, I’d have to wake up early to do that.”

She might need a good kick to the head.

In the middle of a boring day last Thursday, a biologist e-mailed me some photographs of a fishery. Decent-sized, well-composed photos. I actually thought to myself, “Good. Now I don’t have to go out on a boat tomorrow to take pictures.”

I mean, it would be Friday. The weather was supposed to be divine. I had not one single thing on my behind-the-desk to-do list. The last thing I wanted to do was go on a boat ride.

The fishery started at 5 a.m. and I’d heard it could take four hours to get to the fishing spot. I hadn’t exactly been invited to sleep aboard a fishing boat, although had I been, surely I would have said no, thank you. I love almost every single thing boat-ride related, except that I’m usually the only woman aboard and there’s no bathroom. Holding it for several hours is not fun. Also, sometimes in this job, boat rides are damn cold.

Cry me a river, right?

A co-worker talked sense into me. I made two calls and found some enforcement officers who weren’t leaving until the civilized hour of 8 a.m. They happily took me with them.

It was the best day ever. They even made a bathroom stop for me. They didn’t make fun of me when I napped on the way back to the marina, and I’m sure my mouth was hanging wide open.

The morning fog made way for sunshine, but I kept on my fleece jacket the whole day and was pretty comfortable.

Ten hours on a dry speedboat, taking pictures of fishermen, capped off by a little whale watching. My only regret is that I didn’t get a shot of this guy’s face.