I don’t want to burn any bridges, but…
Let's settle for ruffling a few feathers
“You can’t reheat old coffee.”
Jill, a teacher from South Africa, at party in Kyiv in 2010, shortly after my arrival (in Kyiv, not the party)
Our table of contents, not necessarily in this order:
1 (Not quite/completely) burning bridges
2 Instagram, schminstagram
3 Kyiv, part II, verrrrrrrrrry briefly
4 I love you Ukraine, but…
5 Questions, requests, help!
6 Substack updates/news
7 To hell with it, I don’t give a flying f*** anymore!
I was telling Jill about what a wonderful time I’d had living in Lviv in 2005 and how tempted I was to return. Ultimately, I decided against it but when I mentioned the allure of Lviv, Jill threw that coffee line at me (which is much better than actual coffee).
My first trip back to Kyiv, late July 2024: a great time. It ended on such a high note, things were looking good, I was eager to return.
My second trip back, 21-31 August: “You can’t reheat old coffee.”
I realise marketing and promoting a book isn’t easy and requires some hard work and persistence. Sure, I get that. I didn’t expect it to be easy. But it certainly started off quite easy.
I’ve joked about my passive marketing strategy of hanging out in cafés, posting photos of my book, waiting for people to notice it and ask questions (it’s not really a marketing strategy, which I hope was clear – it was more an excuse to chill, enjoy a coffee and soak up the atmosphere of Kyiv’s bookshops).
I was talking about this so-called strategy with Yevhenia and Mykola, two of my former students, at the The Globe Bookstore in Prague at the start of my second trip. They laughed at me and said that would never work, I had to be more proactive.
Just after this selfie was taken, a guy sitting at a nearby table was curious and asked to look at my book. He’d barely glanced at the back cover before saying, “Hmm, I’d buy it.”
Now, I am not about to try to sell my book in someone’s bookshop. That, to me, is crossing an ethical and moral boundary (perhaps I shouldn’t be such a stickler for rules). Yevhenia was imploring me to try, and I shared my thoughts out loud: “I’m not going to try to sell my book in someone’s bookshop.”
The guy piped up: “Oh, it’s fine, I own the bookshop.”
And without a second thought he said he’d stock my book and sell it, no problem. And when I returned the next day to talk more, he said he’d love to host an event.
I left Prague and departed for Kyiv, full of beans.
Can one excavate the past? Is it possible to become reacquainted with our forgotten selves? At what point should one allow them to be castaways?
A Natural History of Love, Diane AckermanTo preserve something valuable, one has to know how to renounce it in good time.
The Snows of Yesteryear, Gregor von Rezzori
The risk in returning to a place to [re]capture that magical feeling
Think about travelling to a place for the first time that you loved. Do you, or would you, risk returning to that very same place in the hopes of recapturing the magic? Are there places you’ve been to where you thought, “I love this, but I know I could never come back”? Are there places you’ve been to where you thought, “I love this, and I am definitely coming back”? Conversely, are there places you’ve been to where you thought, “I don’t really like this place, but perhaps now isn’t the time to appreciate it so I’ll come back one day”?
I had two incredible weeks in the baking hot 45 degree July sunshine in Kazakhstan and Uzbekistan in 2009, but I told myself, once was enough. I first visited Barcelona in 2007 and had a rough time, but there were other reasons involved. I returned in 2012, because I really wanted to appreciate it, and yet, I still couldn’t. Part of this was because I prefer Madrid and San Sebastian, and I know people think I’m nuts for saying this. But part of what makes a trip memorable or traumatic are the emotional and personal circumstances at the time you visit.
My second teaching job, after Lviv, was in San Sebastian, the Basque Country and things didn’t go terribly smoothly (as readers of my book will know about). But I told myself that I’d really like to come back when I’m in a better emotional state, and I did in 2012, just before giving Barcelona a second try. And San Sebastian the second time, for just a short visit, was so special.
I loved Trieste when I visited earlier this spring and immediately decided that I had to return. And I do have very tentative plans to go back for a week next February. But what if that’s a bad idea?
I had practical reasons to return to Kyiv, mainly for book purposes, but there was an emotional side to it as well. More than anything, I missed it.
I’ve decided against burning any bridges and have accepted that it’s all a part of the business of trying to sell a book. Things that looked so promising on the first trip never materialised on the second. I was frustrated but not so naïve when I figured it would all be a piece of cake. I know ‘ghosting’ is a thing these days, it happens, sure, but at a professional level, to suddenly break off communications without any explanation? Or to offer to help and then go silent? Or to make up terrible excuses that are clearly a lie, and aren’t even logical? In my post on the topic of lying, I don’t think this was one of the valid reasons I put forward:
I won’t be sharing any more thoughts just yet on part II of my return to Kyiv. Instead, I’ve written a 5,000 word article in an attempt to get it published somewhere.
Ukrainian friends…help!
I would be grateful for a couple of volunteers to have a look through my article. If you’re interested, please let me know, and I will be eternally in your debt. Actually, this offer is open to anyone, Ukrainian or otherwise, as long as you promise to be as critical as need be.
As Shane Parrish puts it in Clear Thinking:
“Too often, the people we ask for feedback are nice but not kind. Kind people will tell you things a nice person will not. A kind person will tell you that you have spinach on your teeth. A nice person won’t because it’s uncomfortable. A kind person will tell us what holds us back, even when it’s uncomfortable. A nice person avoids giving us critical feedback because they’re worried about hurting our feelings. No wonder we think other people will be interested in our excuses.”
Instagram – is this normal?
I hardly knew what a ‘story’ or ‘reel’ was on Instagram until recently and I barely realised what a murky and sinister world Instagram can be! (I exaggerate.) I’m not much of a self-promoter, and I can’t take the social media side of things too seriously. Regular readers will know how much of a sarcastic cynic I can be, and I fear some of poor attempts at humour and taking the piss might get misunderstood. There are others out there, right, who also find the slickly [over?] produced Instagram stories and posts cringeworthy? It looks like people put a ton of time into them, and if that’s what it takes…no thanks. I had some fun with it and will continue to do so, but on my own terms. If it works, great. If not, what can I do? I have no choice but to be genuine and 100% myself.
You’ll see that shortly when I start doing podcasts and a YouTube channel. Yes, that’s right – I am going to branch out and continue crawling out of my comfort zone, but I want to get away from reading my posts aloud verbatim – I can still do that, if people appreciate it – and instead focus on more natural dialogues (or rather, monologues, I suppose, unless I start doing things with guests).
To have fun with this and make it beneficial for my readers/watchers/listeners, I have to stay true to my nature: a clown who takes very few things in life seriously.
I’ve been spending more time on Substack lately, and it’s a fascinating place, with less of the fluff of Instagram. It might not be the best idea, considering I already spread myself very thin with my reading elsewhere (books, articles, X/Twitter, ‘traditional media’, weekly supermarket brochures looking for buy 1 get 1 free special offers), but there’s so much great content, and a world of possibilities, so I plan on hanging out there more, interacting with a wider audience, trying to attract new readers that will bring new insights and ultimately make me a better, more well-rounded writer.
Plenty of Substackers charge subscription fees, but mine are free if you do choose to subscribe. One more time – thank you so much to those of who have pledged subscriptions, that’s so kind of you, but I’m not going to take your money! In the future, I do have some ideas about making income off this, but for now if you want to support me, you can do so with my book(s).
Subscribers will be able to see more of what I post on the site, and the app is a convenient way of keeping on top of things. You’ll be hearing more from me, especially with Notes and Chat – stay tuned, for those interested, I’ll be popping up on Chat soon to ask some questions and, well, chat. Or chit-chat.
If you don’t want to hear all of my endless pontifications, I believe there are ways of turning the notifications and settings off so that you can avoid all of that. But honestly, why would you? (insert emoji here of someone maniacally laughing…never mind, I can’t quite find one…)
Wrapping up
Let’s see how we did with the table of contents:
1 (Not quite/completely) burning bridges (I hinted at this, but I don’t think I said anything too harsh.)
2 Instagram, schminstagram (I’m not giving up on it, it can be fun, but I can’t be doing those super-duper flashy things)
3 Kyiv, part II, verrrrrrrrrry briefly (Let’s see where that article takes us; if I’m unable to get it published anywhere, then I will share it later)
4 I love you Ukraine, but… (I’m aware that I dedicate a lot of thoughts to Ukraine, and as much as I love the place (nowhere is perfect, right?), I do want to make sure I am appealing to a wide audience.)
5 Questions, requests, help! (Feedback on the article, get in touch if you’d like to read it and can promise to be as critical as necessary)
6 Substack updates/news (You got it, stay tuned for ongoing developments)
7 To hell with it, I don’t give a flying f**k anymore! (see point #1 below)
Two final points
1 As far as ruffling a few feathers goes (nice idiom, language learners) – although I’d like to think I already do this a bit, there’s potential for more. I am very opinionated, excitingly irrational (nice collocation, I made it up; irrationally irritated is another good one), FULL OF crazy ideas and theories, grouchy and cantankerous (sometimes), and I’m going to be more daring about unleashing my thoughts. Or rather, I’m going to ramp things up a notch. You’ve been warned. (I have a final ever post on my previous platform full of anger, swearing, rage, fury, grumpiness – it’s Ukraine-related, keep your eyes peeled for that.)
2 I need a new name for this Substack and I’m open to suggestions. I have a few ideas I’m playing with, but we’re looking for something that really captures the essence of what these posts are about, and about who I am as a writer and teacher and what I’m aiming to accomplish here. Something less ambiguous than the current name, and in no more than 5-6 words. I really like the idea of ‘You can learn a lot from an English Teacher,’ but that’s too long and lacks a certain oomph to it.
If you have any ideas, please do share.
As always, thank you. I’ll try to do better the next time.
If I were you, I would not go to Trieste in February, or if you do, carry large stones in your pockets. the wind called Bora/Burja (pronounced Boorya) is super strong, and may blow you away.
Thank you, Daniel - as usual, so honestly, so authentically, so ... YOU🤌