We asked what we could bring.

We were told to bring an appetizer, salad, or dessert to share with our neighbors, whatever meat or main dish our family was going to eat, and five dollars.

And that easily we joined in the tradition.

There’s a block party in late summer/early fall in the middle of the street. The police block off the street at each end and we set up tables and grills right in the middle of the street and hang out with our neighbors from four ’til well after dark.

People who used to live on the street come back and folks who are just around the corner on streets that don’t have block parties have also come for years.

A couple of years ago, Kim didn’t say “no” fast enough and so she became responsible for organizing the summer block party. She sends out the notes to everyone on the street. She knocks on doors or hand delivers notes to people who don’t respond. She figures out a good day for everyone and notifies the police department. She then sends out more notes about what to bring and when to come help set up.

We run out and get paper goods, plastic dinner ware, cups, chips, and ice. We also get marshmallows, graham crackers, and chocolate and pull our fire pit out to the front yard so everyone can make s’mores.

I love our block party. We don’t get to see our neighbors as much as I’d like to. Everyone is busy. But the block party is a fun night of hanging out with each other. As a parent it always makes me feel better that people know who my kids are and they know who they can go to for help if they need to.

Our closest friends live on other streets – not because we don’t like our neighbors – because most of our closest friends are really parents of Maggie’s closest friends. None of them live on our street.

Every year there is some amount of intrigue.

This year it was the lady down the street who wrote back to the invitation, “you know what would be nice? It would be great if the block behind us scheduled their block party for the same night and we just combined them.”

No one told her that they thought it was a good idea too. But no one said no. So she went ahead and started to organize things. She got the block behind us to schedule their block party for that night. She called the police and told them that we were combining our parties.

Except no one on our block was interested in making this change. We like the people on the next block. We’d love to hang out with them at another event—just not at our block party. It turned out that they felt the same way. No offense taken.

So we let the lady down the street know that we were just going to do our block party where we always had and we hoped she would join us. She explained how she was just trying to help and she’d hoped that we could all get along. She said some other stuff but I’d stopped listening by then. I was trying to remember what we did when we were invited to our first party. We had friends on the next street. Why didn’t we suggest that our block totally change it’s traditions to accommodate us?

We just didn’t.

We made a salad — someone else was already making the cheesy potatoes — and we brought burgers and buns. We also brought $5.

There are so many places where you enter a new situation with a fresh pair of eyes and you can see so many ways that you can suggest clear improvements.

But first, enter softly.

She was halfway into the dining room to tell me about the call when the phone rang again.

“Bet they pressed redial,” she said.

Sure enough the person on the other end had pressed redial and was very confused.

“I can’t have the wrong number again,” the man protested.

“I’m sorry,” Kim said, “you do.”

“But I can’t,” the man began to sound annoyed at Kim for answering the phone when he was clearly dialing someone else. “The first time I must have entered the wrong number but not this time. This time I just hit redial.”

We’ve come to think of it as a metaphor.

My last time in the San Francisco airport I stopped for a burger while waiting for the plane. As I approached the counter a woman with several older children pushed ahead of me. Unusually, this didn’t bother me.

The woman, on her cell phone of course, had each child order and then she added her order. The woman behind the counter rang her up and the woman ahead of me paused her phone call long enough to reach into her purse and take out an envelope. She slit open the envelope and took out a heavy piece of paper that held two identical bank cards with their stickers still on them.

“Here,” she said passing her bank card to the woman behind the register and going back to her phone call. The woman behind the register swiped the card and it came back rejected. This got the customer to hang up the phone and pay attention.

“Run it again,” she said. So the woman behind the counter ran the card again. The card with the sticker on it. The sticker that said to activate the card you had to call this number from your home phone.

“Sorry,” the woman behind the counter said, “rejected.”

The woman ahead of me looked at the other card on that piece of paper in her envelope. The identical card with the identical sticker she still wasn’t reading.

“Run this one,” she said.

The woman behind the counter did. Twice. Finally, the woman ahead of me stopped pressing redial and paid in cash.

I hate to admit it, but I press redial in many areas of my life every day. I’m working on it.

It’s not an easy question and I wrestle with it a lot. It depends on the setting for the class. I’ve tried many strategies so I was interested to hear what my colleagues have tried.

One of them said he is in the “no child left behind” camp. If he has a class of twenty and one person still isn’t getting something he will tend to circle back and try one more time to explain the concept to that student. He wants everyone to understand so he will tend to err on the side of boring the top end of the class.

I’m mainly in that camp, but I’ve found that often the one or two people you spend the most time on still feel that their needs weren’t met and their course evaluations can often be the lowest in the class.

My compassionate colleague contrasted his approach with that of someone we all knew. This trainer felt that he had failed if everyone understood. If in a class of twenty only the top few really understood what he was talking about then he felt he had hit the right level. The people who deserved to understand him, had.

The third trainer at the table explained his middle-of-the-road approach. He gets a vibe from the students early and picks some student who is engaged and trying but is neither the top nor the bottom of the class. Once that person understands a new concept, he moves on.

I’ve been a student in all three types of classes. I think students tailor their attention accordingly. In the nurturing environment I’ll work on the examples and if I finish before others I’ll either help someone around me or check email. In the second style if I’m not one of those deserving of understanding the instructor’s message I’ll quietly check out and look in the direction of the instructor while my mind is miles away. I suppose that that confirms the instructor’s decision to talk over my head. In the third case I’m fortunate to often be that guy who is the instructor’s gauge. If I feel that is the case I will sometimes indicate that I understand a topic before I do so as not to hold the class back.

There’s no punchline. No conclusion. Just a bunch of guys who care about teaching who are thinking about ways to improve.

Well, it didn’t exactly ring. In radio stations a light flashes when there’s a phone call. I’d been working weekend overnights for a couple of weeks and it was Bernie, my boss.

“Hey,” he said, “you sound good.”

He pointed out some concrete things that he liked that I was doing. He’d been concerned whether or not I’d fit the format of this station because I’d come from a higher energy station. He also wanted to point out something I needed to change.

“Try not to use the word ‘stuff’ on the air. You’re using it a lot tonight.”

Three in the morning and my boss is checking on my while I work. More than that, he took the time to give me immediate feedback.

I miss that.

I never knew when I was being observed by the boss and so I just assumed I always was.

Most radio stations have hot lines. This is a designated phone line that bosses and coworkers use to call the on air personality when he or she may not be answering the phone lines the listeners call.

Bernie never used them.

Bernie only called on the listener lines. He wanted to see how quickly we responded to regular listeners and how we greeted them when they called. The boss was always watching and didn’t make a difference to how I performed my job.

In so many jobs it’s bad news when you catch the boss’ attention. The boss doesn’t call you or email you or wave you into his or her office unless you’re in some sort of trouble. At my last gig I never heard from the owners to tell me they liked the work I was doing. I either had trouble getting their attention or I was getting long emails about what they didn’t like about my work. At one point I realized it was effecting the way I was working — it had sucked the enthusiasm I had for a job I had once loved. It was time to leave.

Bernie knew that within minutes of his calling me, I would have to open the microphone and talk to the audience again. His comments had to make their point but he had to make sure I still felt good about what I was doing that I would stay positive and engaged.

What do I want from my boss? I want someone who wants me to excel at my job and progress in my career. I want someone who supports me in that effort and gives me guidance when needed.

Congratulations. That's huge. I'm proud of you and so happy for you. Now, what are you going to do with what you've written?

You could decide to do nothing with it. Your goal was to write and you've written. Sharing it is a whole other ball game. Not only that but most novelists will tell you about several books they have started that they had to put down because it just wasn't working out. This is hard for those who have written a bunch of books—it's even harder if it's your first book.

Look at the chapters you've written. Maybe you can continue to shape them into a book or maybe you should set them down and start fresh on another project now that you know more about yourself and about writing.

If you want to do something with it, the simplest thing might be to use your writing as blog posts. Before you share your writing with anyone realize that people can be really harsh. Even if you post it to your blog and give it away for free, there are people who will make comments that come out of left field or are hurtful.

You might have something between a blog and a book. Maybe you want to shape it into a pdf and distribute it on your own or post it to a site that has a community of people interested in your topic. 

You might have a book on the way but you don't want to work with a publisher. You can self-publish or use a site like Lulu. At the minute you cross the line into charging for your work, some of your readers will look at your work differently. Even if you aren't making any money off of your work, they have paid for it. They have expectations of you—and they aren't all good.

If you've chosen a topic that we might publish, feel free to submit it to us. Submissions for our mainline Pragmatic Bookshelf titles should be sent to proposals@pragprog.com and those for our Pragmatic life series should be sent to lifeproposals@pragprog.com. In any case, please read What we are looking for first.

We tend to respond more quickly than most publishers. Our most common reasons for rejecting a proposal have nothing to do with you. We often think a submitted book would be a great book—just not the sort of book we publish. Many times we don't see a market for the book in our existing audience and we're not sure how to reach the people your book would deserve to reach.

Sometimes it is you or your book. We just aren't sold on an idea and we look at that as a warning sign. If we're not getting the kernel of the book how will we explain it to our readers? I would suggest you do what movies do and create a log line. A short catchy sentence on what the book is and who it's for.

Maybe you want to submit your PragProWriMo book to one of our competitors. Cool. We want to see good books get published. Just because a book isn't right for us to publish doesn't mean it isn't a book we'd love to read. We think there are compelling reasons for writing for us but we know that different authors have different needs and we're not right for everyone.

Whether you end up signing with us or with one of our competitors, you probably have a lot of work left to do on your book. With us a development editor will work with you to help shape your story and get the best out of you. I recently edited a book that the author brought to me in a state that he thought was complete. We worked many months through many drafts to get it to the state where we were all happy with his work. It is still his voice, it is still his book, but it is much improved by the comments of tech reviewers, the copy editor, the indexer, the typesetter, Dave and Andy, and me.

Let me know what you decide to do. I hope this month has been a good experience for you and I hope these daily blog posts have been helpful. In the meantime I wrote 80 pages for my book. I'm pretty happy right now.

Congratulations.

This post originally appeared in the Pragmatic Life blog.

I talked to a woman yesterday who participated in NaNoWriMo. She planned to capture stories she had told her children when they were younger. Goofy entertaining stories with a message. She got twelve thousand words is and stopped.

Not to go all rose-colored-glasses on you, but she captured twelve thousand words of stories that would otherwise be lost. She, her husband, and her kids relived some of that time when they would tell each other stories. She doesn't have anything fit to publish—but she's had a writing based success.

Those of you writing along with PragProWriMo had a goal as well. Even if you missed that goal, I can't see any possible way that this month was a failure.

Some of you have written in to say that although you didn't get a book out of the experience, you did solidify some ideas in your head and you have a better idea about a certain topic than you did before. 

Others have written in to say that book writing is not for them and that they've gained a lot of respect for authors. They are not marathoners but they now understand more what it takes to write a book.

There are plenty of people in between. Those of you who wrote three chapters but not four — you were successful. I've always graded on a curve. You pass too.

Many times the world's rewards are binary. You either completed something or you didn't. With something like trying to write a book, even if you didn't manage to get very far, you got farther than most and you know more about yourself than you did a month ago.

You can stop saying that you always wanted to write a book and attempt one of the other things you've always wanted to do.

On this week's "On the Media" they devoted the entire program to the state of the book industry. Guests lamented that too many books are being written and that it's easier than ever to write a book. I don't think so. It may be easier than ever to take a book that you've written and make it look pretty enough that someone might say "it's a real book" and buy it. The writing part doesn't seem any easier today than in the days I used to watch my dad write books in long hand on a legal pad.

Failure? I don't think so. Congratulations and thank you for participating.

This post originally appeared in the Pragmatic Life blog.

What about your left overs?

There are examples and explanations that didn’t quite fit into one chapter that you are able to use in another chapter. But at some point enough is enough. If you insist on using your left over material you will be harming your book and not helping it.

Wrap those leftovers up carefully. Make sure you label them so that you know what you have. You don’t want to be staring at some odd shaped blob wrapped in aluminum foil not knowing what’s inside or how old it is.

After your book ships, you are going to need to promote it. These leftovers are ideal. That way you don’t have to keep using examples from your book. User your leftovers for a blog post or two to promote your book when it’s out. Write an article for an industry website with your leftovers and point them to your book. Create a screencast from the material.

Whatever you do, don’t throw out your leftovers. And don’t make the mistake I make with food leftovers—I forget that I have them when I need them. Keep a list of topics you can write or blog on to promote your book. Or maybe … just like food leftovers … your book leftovers are the launching point for your next book.

This post originally appeared in the Pragmatic Life blog.

What are the triggers you’re providing for your readers?

Connect with your reader. Think of what you know about your reader. Who are they? What do they like? How old are they? What experiences do they share?

You wouldn’t ask a kid if they remember the first time they saw "The Wizard of Oz" in color because they didn’t grow up with Black and White tv’s. For them "The Wizard of Oz" was always in color.

Are you writing a computer programming book for people new to programming? That’s very different than if you are writing a book on a language or framework for people who are experienced programmers but new to the technology you’re describing. In my Cocoa book I can mention objects, variables and for-loops confident that these trigger specific notions for my readers.

You also need to create new triggers. It’s like that dish that someone brings to Thanksgiving one year and it was so good that now you serve it every year. Six years later it’s one of those "we always serve that at Thanksgiving" foods.

You can’t set out to create a new tradition. You just write great examples that resonate with your readers and you wait and listen. You capture an idea in a simple story or phrase. Express it clearly and give it a name like "DRY" or the overused "stone soup". You’ll know you’ve created a new tradition when you see the name used as shorthand in tweets, blogs, and other books.

You can’t control what other people will pick up on—you can make sure that you give them material worth adopting and repeating. Whip up your literary batch of Chex Mix today and set a bowl out on the table.

This post originally appeared in the Pragmatic Life blog.

Throughout the meal people will make a show at initially declining seconds. They’ll shake their heads and say, "gotta save room for pie". I know that if I hold the serving dish in front of them they’ll go ahead and take a second helping anyway. I also know that I don’t need to save room for pie because I’ve already had some.

Friends of ours have a Thanksgiving morning "Pie First" tradition. This year one hundred and forty people came through their house to share Thanksgiving pies before their own family’s meal. I tasted a spinach quiche, a lemon tart, and a pecan pie. In a couple of hours I’ll be enjoying our Thanksgiving meal without thinking about saving room for pie.

Why don’t we serve the pie first in our books.

Not all the time. That could be bad for us. We might fill up on pie and never eat the vegetables or protein. But once in a while why not switch things up. Start your chapter with the fun stuff and then give the reader the background they need. This variety will help keep the reader’s attention and sometimes it’s fun to imagine the reader saying "That was cool, how did you do that." The pie has gotten their attention. Now you can give them the veggies and meat that they need.

Happy Thanksgiving. Don’t forget to write today.

This post originally appeared in the Pragmatic Life blog.

It could be that rule 5 caught my eye. After all, he is sucking up to people who do what I do for a living. Rule 5 is "Find an editor. Find an editor. Find an editor."

Coming in at number 10 is my second favorite. "Steal. A lot. Passing a stolen thought through your fingers makes it yours."

I assume that you know what he means. You know he isn’t telling you to plagiarize. Read, think, discuss, and then play with what you’ve learned. As a "what if" or "how does that apply to this other situation" and the thought is no longer what it was when you first picked it up and looked at it.

Credit where your ideas come from. Linking to your sources helps your readers — and they knew the idea probably wasn’t yours in the first place.

My very favorite piece of advice in the article is number 6. "Delete liberally, Anything important that is accidentally deleted will come back." When you first write, every idea seems to be sacred. You guard them as if you will never have a good thought again. You will.

You will be tempted to keep these discarded ideas somewhere. You can. I wouldn’t. Get rid of them. Every once in a while a good one will be gone forever. Mostly, you’re clearing your mind and your desk for the next good idea.

This post originally appeared in the Pragmatic Life blog.