It was more than ten years ago when Greg Loescher, the editor of the music magazine Goldmine, recommended my name to his publishing company as a writer for a new line of music collector's guides.
My first guide, Warman's American Records 1950-2000, was an instant hit (the "Warman" was Eliot Warman, the author of an antiques collectibles guide; the publishing company branded his name on several different collectibles guides, similar to Hoyle authoring several books on card-playing games). Between that book and its 2004 sequel, I sold over 10,000 copies - a respectable number for a trade publication.
I also embarked on a self-promoted "Warman's World Tour," which involved me setting up book signings at various Borders and Barnes & Noble bookstores throughout the Northeastern United States (and a few Chapters bookstores in Canada).
While the thrill of being a published author is still a wonderful feeling, there were factors that eventually caused me to leave Goldmine and the publishing company, factors that I will choose not to repeat in this blog.
Flash forward to July 28, 2009 - and more specifically, last night.
As I'm drifting off to sleep, my subconscious mind starts thinking about those books, and how much excitement I felt in creating the text, rustling up the photographs of rare and expensive recordings, and the excitement of seeing the volumes in print. Would I ever go back to that publisher and do it all again? Not a chance, I mutter to myself as I start to drift into dreamland.
But then inspiration hits.
Who says I can't put together my own book - in this age of self-publication and online publishing companies, what's to stop me from assembling a new book on an entirely different topic? Maybe not music collecting, per se, but something involving materials I've created in the past?
All I have to do is rustle up the materials - if I stored them in the proper archival location - and maybe, just maybe, if all the stars are aligned properly, I might be able to put something of my own together.
And at that moment, I drifted off to sleep.
They say that our dreams are vibrant while we are asleep, but that once we awake, we only remember a small fragment of those dreams. At 3:00 a.m. I woke up. Those fragments were still there in my mind.
I quickly went from my bedroom to my home office and checked my archive discs.
Both DVD storage discs were still accessible and contained all the materials I needed.
This morning, I began work on what I will now refer to as "The Project 3."
Wish me luck.
I may need it.