Tuesday, December 17, 2019


Since I’ve posted blogs about what it has been like turning 55 and 60, it’s time to continue my every-five-year tradition now that I have reached the great age of 65 this month.

Thankfully I’m reaching this age (relatively) healthy, and still madly in love with the same person I’ve been with since the age of 18. And as far as I am concerned, these are far and away the two most important things. Particularly coming from a family where many of my male relatives, including my dad, died in their 60s and early 70s.

That said, turning 65 has been a huge life change from the 55-year-old or 60-year-old Rich. Or even the 64-year-old Rich. Why? Because at each of those ages my prime focus, like many male breadwinners, was actively furthering my career. At age 55 I was just starting a new half-time profession as a psychotherapist. At age 60 I had recently released a national bestseller on handling difficult customer situations, and was making a very good living writing, speaking, training and doing therapy.

At 65, by comparison, I am inescapably transitioning to retirement. I am starting Social Security and Medicare, and I joke that my “platform” nowadays largely consists of being an elderly mall walker. And to be honest, I had NO idea what a big emotional change that would be – especially for someone whose life frankly revolved around his work.

You see, I thought I had retirement all figured out. I would just do less of the things I always did, and relax and travel more. Easy-peasy. Instead, I discovered how frightfully hard it is to take on responsibilities, particularly major ones, when you don’t HAVE to anymore. Add in a health scare involving my heart, and I ultimately found myself stepping away from most of my remaining work commitments this fall.

I would liken this to being a tightrope walker in the circus. You do it every night for years, and it feels like your life’s purpose. But then one day as retirement approaches, you look up at the wire and say, “WHOA, that’s a long way down!” And then that part of your life is over, and a huge part of your identity along with it.

Perhaps another good analogy is the empty-nest mother. For years she takes pride in raising her family, and her life revolves around her kids. But then the last one leaves the nest, and she can’t ever go back to changing diapers or packing school lunches ever again. Much like I couldn’t see going back to work again for its own sake.

So what am I doing now? Still writing for a couple of clients I enjoy working for. Doing a little bit of counseling and case consultation. Finishing up my long-delayed “A Therapist’s Guide to Happiness” book, which I hope to self-publish in the near future. Promoting my new small talk skills book. Spending more quality time with Colleen. But also, going through a big and very emotional transition of figuring out what comes next. Not to mention trying to come to terms with things like thoughts of aging and mortality, which a busy and successful career used to do a good job of pushing aside.

I have always been an optimist, and expect a new phase of my life to emerge from this period of transition – hopefully sooner rather than later. I do know that nowadays, connection with people seems a lot more important to me than achievement. And as with my previous career, I still want to find ways to help others and be part of a community. Stay tuned for the next chapter.

Friday, March 29, 2019

Should you use a ghostwriter?

Yesterday someone posted a question to the National Speakers Association’s Facebook group about using a ghostwriter. She had been quoted $25K and six months’ time to write her book, and wondered if this was (a) normal and (b) worth it.

This question lit up this normally staid group, with over 100 responses and counting within 24 hours – with enough diverse opinions that the original poster claimed to be even more confused. Since I was a professional ghostwriter for many years – and more important, am now retired and am not selling anything – I wanted to add my two cents. Bear in mind these are my opinions alone.

First, here are my answers to her questions: (a) yes, if this person has good credentials, and (b) not necessarily. Here’s more detail on both answers:

What ghostwriters cost. My fees for the first draft of a full-length book were normally around $25K as well, with a time frame of 4-6 months. However, I was at the high end of the spectrum, generally writing for "A-list" people whose books were released by major publishers. Others may charge less, and in some cases much less.

Here is how that breaks down. Writing and researching, say, a 50,000 word book will involve hundreds of hours of the ghost’s time, at professional rates. (I always charged clients by the hour, for as many or as few hours as they wanted – making it easier for them to do as much of the writing as they wished.) Think of what it might cost to hire a plumber or have someone mow your lawn for two months straight, and you get the idea.

Part of the reason I commanded those fees was that I had a strong publication track record of my own with major royalty publishers, and knew my stuff about creating a published book - including analyzing the market, knowing what styles and genres were selling, and deconstructing a client's style into a writing voice. Part of what you are paying for with a high-end ghost is expertise, not just labor.

BUT not everyone needs this, as we will discuss below. There are less expensive options – in some cases far less – that might be perfect for your book. If you are hiring someone at the high end, you should be paying for their experience in publishing as well as writing. Which is why, as my good friend and colleague Lois Creamer posted in yesterday’s post, checking credentials and previous publications is extremely important.

Is it worth it? Opinions vary widely here. Here’s mine: we are worth it if our work adds sufficient value to your business, through book sales or increased exposure. Which means the level and pedigree of writer you hire should ideally depend on YOUR platform. Here is some data from my own experience:

First, for most of my clients, money was no object. They were CEOs of multi-billion dollar corporations, television personalities, or academics with funding sources. Ironically, most of them were very good writers. But they were busy doing much more important things than me, traded their money for my time, and everyone was happy.

Second, they all had good platforms to begin with, and often had a publisher lined up. Platform is incredibly important. How important? Most of my ghostwriting clients had much better publishers and larger advances than I did with my own books (and in some cases, the advance paid for my services).

(As an aside, this is why I never feel a ghostwriting project is “my” book – its success always revolves around the client’s ideas and platform, not my turgid prose. I’m just a service provider, like a good plumber.)

Finally, most books sell in frightfully small quantities. Even bestsellers. If you check industry sales figures, it is not unusual for even the top business book to be selling only 100-200 copies a month on Amazon. And far more than you think sell a few copies here and there.

There are exceptions, of course, and I realize J.K. Rowling is worth half a billion dollars as of this writing. But if you are a mere mortal like me, I would be cautious if people tell you that you will probably make back your $25K in book sales. And even more cautious if they claim that paying them $$$ to write your book will make you a star.

(Incidentally, this is also why you should never offer a ghost a share of your royalties to write your book - usually this arrangement will make both of you very unhappy.)

So for the right people, yes we are worth it. But personally I never felt comfortable marketing my services to individuals, because too often it would have been a situation where I made money and they didn’t.

So what should you do? If you are a good speaker - but not particularly a writer - and want help getting a book to market, here are some questions I would ask first:

First, start with your platform. If you have channels for selling a large number of books, even if you self-publish – or have a publisher lined up – a full-fare ghost may be a good option.

Next, look at why you want a book. Which, by the way, I feel is important for a speaker – the vast majority of them do have one or more books out. But for a typical speaker, I feel an inexpensive self-published book will do just fine. Because what you are selling is still mainly YOU and your PLATFORM, and the book is a calling card.

Finally, decide if you are a writer who speaks, or a speaker who writes.

I personally was in the first category. Writing a bestselling book over a decade ago was like winning a game show, and launched a successful speaking career that I might never have had by just trying to speak. But that was because my main talent was as a writer, and speaking came along for the ride.

Conversely, check out the NSA’s million dollar roundtable of very top speakers sometime. Last I checked, most of them were NOT bestselling authors. But they are all incredible speakers. They don’t necessarily need to have bestselling books like I did.

In my humble opinion, a writer who speaks - i.e. someone who wants to brand themselves around a bestselling book from a major publisher - would normally benefit more from a full-fare ghostwriter than a speaker who writes, and just needs a book for back-of-room sales and a calling card. Your mileage may vary, of course.

What other options do you have? There are many ways to get a book out there, with a wide range of costs. Here are just a few:

Write it yourself, and hire a good editor.

Consider less expensive options. These include ghosts who don’t work at the high end of the market, all the way to offshore and low-cost providers on freelance web sites.

Be aware that quality can vary widely, with potential pitfalls ranging from bad grammar to plagiarism. I wouldn't scrimp on quality, because a book is an important part of your brand. But lower-cost writers are not always a bad option IF you vet their past work carefully, and are willing to have the finished product carefully edited by yourself or others.

If you have a really good platform (increasingly a must for landing a royalty publishing contract), consider the traditional route of agents and publishers, where they pay you.

Be aware that going for a publishing contract does NOT involve writing the book first – books are sold to agents and publishers on the basis of a 30-40 page proposal, with a table of contents, competitive analysis and sample chapters. In this case, consider hiring a ghost to just write the proposal, THEN worry about hiring a ghost for the book AFTER you land a contract.

(On the last point, oh all right, I guess I am selling something – for three bucks on Kindle. My recent book The Million Dollar Writer goes into lugubrious detail about becoming a royalty published author, as well as a successful freelancer. And yes, I have sold over a million dollars' worth of my own books. Here’s the link if you are interested: https://amzn.to/2WueMkc)

Hope this helps the original person posting, and others. Good luck!

Wednesday, March 13, 2019

Things I love - and hate - about RVing

When I stopped working full-time in my 60s, one of the first things on my bucket list – clich├ęs about retirement notwithstanding – was to go out and purchase a motorhome. (Below is a picture of our rig: a gently used 31 foot Jayco Escapade.) Now, after more than two years and 20,000 miles of cris-crossing the country in it, I can share some of the pros and cons of having your home on your back.

First, let’s start with some of the things I love about RVing:

1. Wherever you go, there you are
Even though I’ve flown hundreds of thousands of air miles in my career, visiting places ranging from China to Curacao, my dirty little secret is that I hate traveling. Sleeping in hotel beds, eating in strange restaurants, and having no privacy for days or weeks on end has always been stressful for me. So first and foremost, an RV takes much of the “travel” out of travel.

To me, one of the greatest joys of RV travel is being somewhere far away and yet able to raid the refrigerator whenever I feel like it, set the temperature to whatever I want, and sleep every night in my own bed. Not to mention knowing that the nearest restroom is as close as my turn signal.

2. It’s the cheapest way to go
Travel by motorhome is, far and away, the cheapest way to travel. For years, when my wife and I would visit my family in Arizona, we’d often spend $4-6000 by the time you added in air fares, car rental, hotels at $200+ a night, and eating nearly every single meal out. Last year, by comparison, we spent three weeks going to Tucson by motorhome and the costs barely topped $2K.

Here’s how it breaks down. First of all, the cost of gas kills you. Motorhomes like mine get no more than 8 miles per gallon on a good day – after all, you are carting a residence around. But after that, everything else is dirt cheap. Food is the same as staying home, RV campgrounds are around $40/night and sometimes much less, and nearly everything you need comes with you. You can often spend a week somewhere in your RV for not much more than the cost of a single night at a major-city hotel.

3. It can be surprisingly convenient
Last summer I spent four days at a psychotherapy conference in Washington DC, where I presented a research paper and attended committee meetings. Instead of spending all that time in a stuffy and expensive DC hotel, I stayed at an RV park outside the Beltway and was “home” every night. So how did I get to the conference every day? A bus came right to the RV park every hour, 20 minutes later I was at a Metro station, and nine stops later I was at my conference – easy-peazy.

There are RV parks at major resorts like Disney, parks close to public transportation in major cities, and even upscale RV resorts that are a short Uber ride from anything you want. And as a huge baseball fan, I’ve made numerous trips to Philadelphia, where you can park your RV and tailgate right at the ballpark, and a clean and safe campsite is just over across the river.

That said, I’ll be the first to admit that RVing also has its drawbacks. Here are a few of the things I hate about RVing:

1. Repairs
Things go wrong with RVs. Often. If you were driving your entire home around constantly, things would break down for you too. I sometimes joke to my dealer’s service department – whom I’ve gotten to know quite well – that I’m slowly replacing the entire RV one piece at a time.

To be fair, I’ve yet to have a single problem with the vehicle itself (a Ford E-450 V10 Super Duty). But since we’ve owned this RV we’ve fixed the generator, the power converter, and the refrigerator. We’ve dealt with sticky electric steps, a leaking cab bunk, clogged faucets, a waterlogged counter top, and more. And upgraded the shocks, to the tune of $1000, so my wife doesn’t go flying every time we drive over a bump. But so far it’s still been like many good relationships: expensive but worth it.

2. Restrooms designed by idiots
For some reason I’ve never figured out, nearly every RV campground restroom has these tiny stalls with doors that only open *inward.* Look at the picture here. Eyeball the distances involved. Now tell me how you get *out* of these stalls without having to brush against *everything.* Blecch.

There are exceptions, thankfully. The KOA campground near Hilton Head, for example, actually has stalls with their own sinks and the BBC piped in. Very civilized. But also the exception and not the rule.

3. Wonky WiFi
Practically every campsite claims to have WiFi. With a strong emphasis on the word “claims.” Because almost universally, it doesn’t work. Whether all 200 people at the campsite are using it at the same time, or whatever else is going on, the result is still the same: it’s usually too pokey to even send an email.

Some campgrounds offer two levels of service: free WiFi that doesn’t work, and expensive paid WiFi that might. As for me? I usually just tether my cell phone and carry on.

4. You don’t fit everywhere
A full-size motorhome like mine takes up two car lengths. Driving it is not a big deal – it’s like driving a van (because technically you are driving a van), with slightly wider turns and more wind resistance. But parking it is often another matter entirely.

There are some places you simply can’t go in a motorhome. Many strip malls and gas stations, for starters. If there isn’t enough room to turn around a big vehicle, you risk being able to get in but not out. For example, ask me about the time I tried to go to a mall outside of DC, discovered its only parking was garages whose ceiling heights were too low for my rig, and to add insult to injury, the only way out was a too-tight turn that left me blocking heavy traffic with horns blaring. That was fun.

And then, sadly, there are a few entire cities that are not at all RV-friendly. Pittsburgh, where I used to live for many years, has NO place to park an RV downtown, save for a bus lot far from everything that costs $100 to park in (!). Some areas have under-height bridges or other restrictions: for example, you can't drive an RV through the Lincoln or Holland Tunnels in New York City. And as for most street parking or garages, fugheddaboutit. Eventually you learn to think like a truck driver and plan your route around things like interstates, truck stops, shopping malls and campsites.

Adding it all up

So in the end, is RVing worth it?

Think of it a little like owning a pet. You put up with bites, scratches, changing the litter pan, and medical problems, because being warm and furry covers a multitude of sins. It is precisely the same thing between me and our RV.

This is why I gladly hook up the sewer and the utilities every night, do dumpster duty, go outside in bad weather to fix things, or drive 400 miles a day to get us where we are going because I couldn’t possibly imagine being retired without an RV. And so far, I still love it.

Sunday, July 15, 2018

I found my niche! (Lots of them, in fact)

"How many different careers have you had, Rich?"

I get asked this question more often than you might think - because I am, in fact, a mutt who has worn many different hats in my life. People have known me over the years as a computer programmer, a corporate manager, a freelance writer, a book author, a public speaker, and a psychotherapist. And that doesn't count youthful indiscretions like being a pizza delivery man, golf caddy, short-order cook or radio announcer.

Which brings up something I've always noticed: we tend to look down our noses at people who don't follow one path in life. Children are asked, "What do you want to be when you grow up?," while adults are greeted with, "What do you do?" Most of us know better than to be racist, sexist or even ableist nowadays, but we are still thoughtlessly single-path-ist. We use terms like "dilletante" or the euphemistic "Rennaisance man" as a synonym for "lost and confused" - but never, in my experience, in a good light.

My diverse career actually makes more sense than people might think. Some paths were borne of neccessity - like when layoffs, technical obsolescence and burnout made my original 20-year software career impractical, and I started writing full time. Others were happy accidents, like when I wrote a book that unexpectedly became an international bestseller and I suddenly found myself speaking 40-50 times a year all over North America (a pace that continued until I retired last year).

Finally, some things made no particular career sense, except that I really wanted to do them. I secretly always wanted to be a psychotherapist all my life, but after decades of brushing it aside for more practical pursuits, a novel distance learning program in the 2000s put that within reach. After which I happily juggled writing, speaking and therapy for many years - often with people who knew me from one field scratching their heads about the others.

Which brings up a larger point. Why should any of us HAVE to have a single "brand"? What is wrong with wearing different hats as we go through life? If we can walk and chew gum at the same time, why can't we have more than one profession?

I actually think being a mutt is great. It always gave me multiple ways to make a living, any of which could be scaled up if needed. And it doesn't equate to "unsuccessful": personally I have never been fired or laid off, had to borrow money from people, or even been late paying a bill. I can truthfully say that I've done well at just about everything I've tried, and now I am happily retired (and still doing lots of different things). As far as I'm concerned, it's all good.

Far too many people feel trapped in someone else's idea of a good life. Others discover that their chosen career becomes obsolete or intolerable. And many suffer a horrible loss of self-esteem when what they do, for whatever reason, doesn't work out. But society is often far richer when people escape their career ruts: for example, I'm glad Walt Disney moved on from being a failed newspaper editor, and Andrea Bocelli gave up being a defense attorney to sing.

So my closing thought is to stop asking your children questions like "What do you want to do when you grow up?" Instead, ask them what they like. What they enjoy. What makes their heart sing. And as they get older, how they might get to do more of the things they love. And perhaps, with a little luck, lots of them!

(P.S. My favorite job of all? Hands down, being a stock clerk at a department store when I was eighteen - because the cute girl I met working there has been my partner ever since.)

Thursday, September 29, 2016

On Tooting Your Horn

A little while ago, I ran into an old colleague who noted that I tended to toot my own horn on Facebook – in other words, that I often post about my speaking gigs, my books, or the good times I am having.

She is completely accurate about all of this. But it raises a deeper issue that rarely gets explored: the differences between tooters and non-tooters. So I would like to take you inside the mind of a lifelong tooter, to put it in its proper perspective.

You see, for many people, this issue takes on moral overtones. Non-tooters often grow up believing that it is shallow and pretentious to brag about yourself; as one recent meme put it, “May your life be half as good as it seems on Facebook.” At the other end of the spectrum, tooters are at risk of seeing non-tooters as dullards who celebrate nothing and share nothing.

Neither of these stereotypes is completely accurate. So here is my attempt at brokering a truce between these two worldviews. First, here are some of the reasons why I tend to toot my horn:

1) To me, tooting isn’t egotistical – it is epidemiological. Since the dawn of history, men were often hunters and gatherers who took care of their families. And when they stopped being able to do so, they died. This is how hunting trophies and harvest celebrations came about: they celebrated the successful pursuit of food and survival. So for thousands of years, tooting has been a celebration of life, and of still being in the hunt. Same thing when I celebrate my goals and pleasures – it isn’t about winning or being better than others, but rather about taking pride in the happy pursuit of a good life.

2) For me personally, there is almost a spiritual dimension to celebrating yourself. During the toughest times of my life, non-tooters usually had nothing to say to me. It was always other tooters who encouraged me, cheered me on, and gave me hope. So I've always wanted to be like them - someone who likes themselves and loves others.

3) We tend to be attracted to our own species as friends. I really like the company of other tooters. For example, I have always delighted in seeing other people’s books, cheering on their launch campaigns, watching their videos, and hearing their stories. It is life-affirming for me to be in the company of other people who take joy in their own pursuits, and see possibilities for themselves and others.

4) Tooters make good tutors. Yesterday at a speaking engagement in Pittsburgh, one woman told me how much she enjoyed my talk (always a good thing to say to a tooter), and then confided that someday she would like to be a public speaker herself. I gladly sat down with her at lunch and opened my playbook about getting started in the business. More broadly, I love seeing other people learn, grow, and succeed. If you want to learn to become a writer, speaker, musician, or whatever, your best bet is to find a good tooter.

5) Finally, we are all the product of our own family histories. I come from a large family of high achievers, including a very professionally successful father, and a funny and often brash mother with a very healthy ego. For someone who grew up as I did, taping my mouth shut about my life would feel like a dull grey existence.

Non-tooters often mistakenly believe that tooting is a reaction to covering up some deeper emptiness in your life. Not in my case. If you were to crack my head open, you would find a pretty happy guy inside most of the time. And if I am sharing good things publicly, this is a very good sign that I am in my normal happy place. When things are tough for me, I am much more likely to withdraw then blather on.

I should also add that having a healthy ego has nothing to do with being vain or competitive. I am very proud of my own successes. But if you came along and did the same things twice as successfully, I would honestly be extremely happy for you. I enjoy the company of other tooters precisely because we delight in each other's joys and accomplishments.

Now, a word to you non-tooters: you’re OK too. You have perfectly valid reasons for being the way you are, based on who you are and what you have learned in your life. And there are healthy and unhealthy extremes to both your personalities and mine. Tooters can be friendly and engaging, or egotistical boors. Non-tooters can be kind and modest, or wet blankets. It goes without saying that we should always try to be our very best selves, and respect each other.

But above all, we all have to be true to who we are. We all have our own unique personalities and gifts. And living someone else’s life is never a prescription for happiness. So if you are like me, toot away!

Saturday, July 30, 2016

The only political blog I will write all year – 2016 edition

In this most unusual of election years, we have a communications skills expert’s nightmare: one of the most divisive races in modern history, fueled by non-stop partisan talk radio, cable TV and social media.

I am pretty apolitical on the best of days, but this year in particular, the electoral process makes me feel the same way most women would probably feel if Bikini Babes of NASCAR was blaring on their TV 24/7. But people still do ask me to weigh in about politics, and while I wouldn't dream of telling you how to vote, I do have some thoughts about how to best approach this election. Here they are:

Use the outrage test. I have a simple rule for whether an issue should concern me: is the outrage bipartisan? If not, then it isn’t allowed to take up valuable space in my head. This simple rule automatically exempts me from Benghazi, Melenia Trump’s speech, Hilary’s emails, Trump steaks, and a whole host of other issues.

This is particularly true when (only) one side is going, “Oh, OH! Let’s investigate! Let's litigate! Let's prosecute!” When I hear people talk about jailing Hilary or blocking Trump from candidate security briefings, all I can do is roll my eyes and mutter to myself, “Holy 1998 impeachment, Batman.” Because these faux issues won’t give anyone a good job, improve our well-being or stop violence.

Real issues like the economy, health care, racial justice and the police, and terrorism raise strong opinions from both sides – and even if they disagree, it’s game on. But if one side is outraged and you are hearing crickets from the other side, move along.

Choose your sources. Do you form your political opinions – or worse, express them – through Facebook memes or partisan sources? Let me make a gentle suggestion. See what a more neutral source has to say first before you contribute to the political discourse. You might be surprised to learn that people actually do exaggerate things and distort facts – even in politics.

If you can’t do that, and reject the mainstream media the way many good zealots do, fine. At least do me this favor: check out the memes and articles that the other side is posting first. Then imagine that all of you were locked in a room, and couldn’t emerge until you reached consensus. What do you think the consensus might be? At least let that inform your posts and opinions.

Tune out the pundits. Political talk hosts on opposing sides are probably best friends off-camera. Why? Because they all engage in the same strategies: emotionally-charged language, fatuous arguments, one-sided facts, straw man arguments and ad hominin attacks.

Everyone criticizes commentators on the other side for doing it – but when I notice the same things with pundits on their side, people look at me like I have three heads. Yet they too are polarizing people and spreading half-truths. My gentle suggestion: don’t listen to jerks just because they are “our” jerk.

Listen to the other side. This is the most important advice one could give for this or any election – learn how the other side thinks. Listen to their candidates. Read their articles. Visit their social media pages. Because real problems are solved through dialogue and consensus. And that can only happen when both sides “get” each other first.

If you can’t frame the other person’s position as that of a totally reasonable person, you aren’t yet capable of advocating effectively for your side – you are limited to preaching to your own choir. Which, in my humble opinion, never changes anything.

This is especially true in this unusual election, where it seems like the more we vilify the opposition candidate, the more their poll numbers go up. I hope that when the dust settles on the 2016 campaign, its legacy is that we finally learn to listen to each other and solve problems together.

Wednesday, May 06, 2015

Becoming a book millionaire, revisited

A little over a year ago, I shared my thoughts about reaching the milestone of selling a million dollars worth of books in this blog post. More recently, I created a blog post for my good friend (and New York Times bestselling author) Carol Roth about what I feel is the larger issue: how to consistently get published by major royalty publishers, and write books that are regularly featured in bookstores.

Aside from the obvious advice (create outstanding content, and work your way up to the big leagues by writing a lot), it discusses what I truly feel is the hidden secret of every published nonfiction author: become a student of (1) how successful nonfiction books are structured and titled, and (2) the mechanics of good, tight queries and proposals. Here is a link to my post:

Enjoy, and best of success with your own writing!