I’m going to spoil tomorrow’s post. My guest the next episode of Just Talking is Haidee Merritt. She’s on twitter – @BirdWingPress. She has a book – One Lump or Two?. And she makes sweet lamps, they can be found over here. I don’t want to spoil the fun of the episode itself, but I will say that part of our discussion carried over after the microphones were turned off and from that conversation and some of the things we talked about on the podcast itself, Haidee sent me a little something that she agreed to have posted here. Reading this first will put parts of our conversation in the right context.

Episode 20 will be posted tomorrow. Stop by the Just Talking blog to catch up on previous episodes.

[From here on out, I'll let Haidee to the talking (or typing)]

I thought I’d send along this little essay I wrote. There are things in it that I should’ve touched on yesterday during our interview. Oh, well. Thought you might add some of it to the beginning or end (or not) just so I sound a little clearer with my motivation and goals.

My M.O.

In my naiveté, I really thought the hard work was done. I gave birth to the book, as messy, painful and unpleasant as it was, and now all the world can raise it, shape it, and make it into the Bestseller it’s destined to be. I’m the artist and the patient: someone who leaves the marketing to the pros. I haven’t written in years and I really didn’t anticipate picking up the old pen (i.e. keyboard) and doing the dirty work. (The fact that I used the ‘publishing-as-childbirth’ metaphor should be all the proof you need that I’m out of touch, my writing level frozen in time, back in college, long ago.)

I mean, didn’t I create this comic book to communicate without words? I’m tired of hearing myself talk about my health and I’m no fan of listening to others talk about theirs. In fact, I have moments of complete clarity while I make eye contact and nod to longwinded, animated and punctuated stories of other diabetics. I think, I must sound just like this. Admittedly, I am much more interested and entertained by my own stories than anyone else. I have a slight phobia of developing Munchausen’s or hypochondria, it’s true.

One thing I know about myself (and can’t seem to change) is that I learn everything through trial and error; I often learn what to do by doing it the wrong way first. The hard way. I’ve sort of come to terms with this, expecting it now, so that I rush through a new experience simply to get it out of the way. You might too, knowing you’re going to have to do it again anyway. I appreciate the negative the way most people appreciate the positive: I describe what I don’t want to produce a picture of what I do want. (I’m sure there’s some literary term for this but, as I’ve said, I’m pretty out of touch.) Since most people don’t think in these terms, I see why I might be described as a negative thinker; hey, it’s a valid point and I own up to it.

I’m kind of strange that way: I have lots of opinions on things, all kinds of opinions; if you disagree with me and want to argue, there’s no telling how I’ll respond. Sometimes I agree right off the bat and leave the conflict in the middle of the room like a deflated balloon. Like when two dogs are introduced to each other and one just rolls over with her feet in the air? I might be like that if I was a dog. Sometimes I just like to say out loud what’s in my head, some view or perspective I want to try out. Weigh the reaction; get feedback. Sometimes my feelings aren’t even backed by facts.

Right off the bat, I made a mistake (whoops, I mean “had a learning experience”) with the book.. I started at what I thought was the top, the American Diabetes Association, Juvenile Diabetes Association, Boston’s Joslin, and all their many publications. People liked it, said they laughed, wanted one for their diabetic friend, but it was nothing that could be endorsed or sold by the professional medical community. And that’s when it became clear to me: I was trying to sell the book to the wrong audience. I was spinning my wheels marketing to the people who I thought could pass it on to the people who would most appreciate it. I was adding one additional step that was doing nothing more than crushing my ego and enthusiasm. It was so empowering to turn the table around and judge them. Do I even want their approval or their endorsements?[1] To me, a very attractive thing about the book is that it’s deviant and secretive. Do I really want to cut and shape it to fit into the box? Answering ‘no’ of course, I’ve had to think about the book from an entirely different perspective. I’ve had to define for myself the purpose of the book and the desired outcome of my work. This is more thinking than I’ve done in years. (As an aside, anything stressful makes me crave sugar and I’ve gained 15 pounds.)

My understanding of diabetes is that it’s many diseases under that one heading. Although I’m a Type 1, I’ve been pretty careful not to segregate the Type 2s in my comic book. Don’t get me wrong, I’m all about educating people about the differences, the huge differences, but that’s not my platform right now. At the moment I want to address the diabetic community as a whole. Every diabetic has different issues, even within these two distinct groups, when presented with the same circumstance few, if any, will have the same response or result. That’s part of what makes this disease so isolating. People without diabetes–our spouses, children, parents–struggle to understand us and the disease; our diabetic friends struggle to understand fellow diabetics, and we struggle to understand ourselves. Any way you slice it, it’s a struggle. And things change so much from day to day, let alone a lifetime. My favorite truism about myself: The only consistent thing about me is that I’m inconsistent. The same could be said about diabetes.

When it comes to communicating with others about diabetes, I wholeheartedly believe in the need for opening up new approaches and energies to dealing with the disease. I find that illustration works best for me. I believe cartoons can really reach people who are reluctant to embrace traditional supports and therapies. The art-therapy aspect of it is really amazing for me; it’s quite soothing to squirrel myself away and gnaw on these bitter nuts I’d been storing my whole life. So, not only are the cartoons a way for me to confront and accept things, but they have given me a way to tell other people about it. People ask questions after they read the book; it starts dialog. My book has a sense of honesty that is rare. Rare, approachable and necessary

[1]When I stop to think about it, the American Diabetes Association has been the leader in diabetes care for almost 70 years; their declared mission is “to prevent and cure diabetes and to improve the lives of all people affected by diabetes.” A lot of good they’re doing, huh? 4100 people are diagnosed with diabetes every day. Don’t get me wrong, I’m sure they’re doing a much better job than I could do, but I wonder if maybe it’s time to try some new approaches?

Haidee Soule Merritt, author/illustrator/publisher