So, yesterday I sat down to build an ebook.
Here's my process in a series of steps:
1. Write story.
2. Clean story eight bajillion times.
3. Design cover
3 1/2. Create additional content (titles, thank yous, etc.). (This step is 3 and 1/2 because I went back and added it later and didn't want to go to all the effort of renumbering the following steps. Of course, then I wrote this explanation, which took more time than renumbering. Whoops.)
4. Do random google search on creating ebook for Kindle, (since I figure starting with Amazon is the way to go). Find a lot of articles from 2007. Prioritize by date. Stare at content, which looks like it was written by monkeys. Alien monkeys. Smack forehead.
5. When that fails, go to Amazon where they have actual instructions.
6. Discover the version of Word I'm running is too old to convert to HTML in the proper format. Convert in the available format, crossing my fingers and hoping it will work.
7. Discover I have to download something called Mobipocket Creator in order to create a .prc file. Happily jaunt over to the website only to find Mobipocket is a strictly PC affair. Search the web for other conversion products. Download a few. Darn monkeys are at it again. Stare at the screen and cry.
8. Email content to myself and switch over to netbook, which happens to be a PC.
9. Start over. Do everything I'm supposed to do (extremely annoyed all the while at a publishing process that relies so heavily on PCs) then realize the copy of my story that I emailed had no additional content attached.
10. Start over.
11. Succeed in building .prc file!
12. Download Kindle Previewer so I can view the file and make certain I haven't royally screwed up. Previewer installs in the mysterious bowels of my computer. I launch an expedition to find it, but all searches fail. Reinstall. Fail. Reinstall. Fail. Darn PCs! Finally find it lurking in the dark with a smirk on its face. Smack it across the face and cry again.
13. Run Previewer. Ebook looks awesome! Perfectly formated. Everything where it is supposed to be. I'm a goddess of the internet! I'm amazing.
14. Go online to Tweet about my mad skilz and suddenly incapacitated by the most monstrous leg cramp ever. Calf seizes up and cramp works its way down to my arch. Foot tweaks to the side and muscles bulge. Swear. Cramp continues. Cry. Cramp continues. Beg the heavens for mercy. Cramp continues. Wonder what I could have done to deserve this. Cramp intensifies. Cramp finally dies down, but aftermath of cramp feels an awful lot like my leg is dying. Try to walk. Fall over. Update Twitter and Facebook, because everyone needs to know about my cramp.