I Never Thought…

…I’d ever have to complain about too much flying.

I am exhausted. During the past three days, I flew 11.5 hours of revenue time. That’s time that people are actually paying me to fly. I flew 6 hours just today.

All of a sudden, everyone wants to go flying. I’ve done charters to the Grand Canyon, Scottsdale, Sedona, and Sky Harbor Airport in Phoenix. I’ve done real estate developer land tours, tours around Mesa, and tours around Wickenburg. And that’s after last week’s two photo shoots, a Grand Canyon charter, a Sedona charter, and an ash scattering. Where are these people coming from? And where were they in January and February when I was wondering where my next payment was going to come from?

I made my next payment. And the payment after that. Heck, I might even have June’s payment lined up — I have another tour tomorrow and a 2-day outdoor gig next weekend.

I need a rest. This helicopter charter business is starting to get like a job.

Nothing by Chance

I reach for a book on my shelf and am pleasantly surprised.

I had a Grand Canyon charter the other day. Although most Canyon visitors like to walk along the rim and enjoy the view, I’ve been so tired from work lately that I thought I might like to spend my wait time in a comfortable chair in a hotel lobby, reading a book. So before leaving home on Wednesday morning, I went into our little library and pulled a paperback I hadn’t read yet off the shelf. The book was Nothing by Chance by Richard Bach.

I was introduced to Bach’s writing when I was in high school. His book, Jonathan Livingston Seagull was a huge bestseller back then and all the students who liked to read read it. (Wow, is that a weird sentence construction: “…read read…”) I don’t remember the book very well and plan to read it again soon.

This book, which was published in 1969, is one of Bach’s flying books. He wrote several of them and they’re carried by most good pilot shops. I bought this copy at least two years ago from Aero Phoenix, the wholesale pilot supply shop I used to buy products for resale in the little pilot shop I had at Wickenburg Airport. I’d bought two other books by Bach on the same shopping expedition, but had chosen the wrong one to read first and hadn’t gotten any further.

The subtitle of the book, which doesn’t appear on the cover, is “A Gypsy Pilot’s Adventures in Modern America.” It pretty much sums up the nonfiction story. I’m almost halfway finished and the story so far has been about Richard and two friends as they “barnstorm” around the midwest, attracting crowds with aerobatics and parachute jumps, making money by taking people for rides in their two airplanes. The book is no longer “modern” — unless you still live in the 1960s — and the idea of $3 airplane rides takes you back to those days. It certainly takes me back to those days: my first ride in an aircraft was in the late 1960s, when I got a helicopter ride in what was probably a Bell 47. That ride, which I took with my dad, cost only $5 per person.

Bach’s writing borders on amazing. Take, for example, the very first paragraph of the book:

The river was wine beneath our wings — dark royal June Wisconsin wine. It poured deep purple from one side of the valley to the other, and back again.The highway leaped across it once, twice, twice more, a daring shuttlecock weaving a thread of hard concrete.

I read that paragraph and suddenly felt ashamed to call myself a writer.

Fortunately, the whole book is not like that. It’s a story that moves forward, with brief interludes of wonderful imagery and flashbacks to other times in the author’s past.

I can identify with the story. I often make extra money with my helicopter by bringing it to county fairs and other outdoor events. He talks about the spectators who watch but don’t step up with their money. About how dead business can be until a passenger or two climb aboard and get the whole thing started. About flying for hours with a long line of people waiting. About waiting for hours with no one wanting to fly. He talks about trying to keep count of the passengers, about their reactions to seeing familiar terrain from an unfamiliar perspective. About the responsibility of the pilot and the joy of flight through someone else’s eyes.

It’s clear that Bach loves (or is it loved?) to fly. We have that in common.

I’m glad I pulled this book off the shelf on Wednesday. But now I’m wishing I could write its sequel, as a barnstorming helicopter pilot in the 21st century.

On Deadlines

The reality of book deadlines — at least the way I’ve learned it.

Miraz confessed to me today that she was a bit anxious about getting our WordPress book done by its deadline. According to the project site she maintains for the book, we have only 18 days left.

I replied via e-mail with my take on deadlines. Here’s a slightly expanded version.

Every book I’ve worked on seems to have at least two or three deadlines:

The Contract Deadline

The contract deadline is the one that’s in the contract. It isn’t necessarily real and is often ignored.

Why? Well that deadline was cooked up to fill a placeholder in the contract template. It may or may not reflect a deadline that is possible.

For example, suppose I signed a contract today for my next Mac OS X book. When will that book be due? No one even knows when the software will be available to write about. Or when the software will be released. So how can someone put a realistic deadline in a contract? They can’t. But they have to put a date in the contract. It’s required. So they guess at a date and put that in. I sign it because I know it isn’t necessarily real and will likely be ignored.

The Editorial Deadline

The editorial deadline is when your editor expects to get the book. It’s based real-life things, like when the software will be available to write about it and how quickly (or slowly) you write.

Although this deadline is often after the deadline in the contract, sometimes it’s sooner. That’s the way it was for my Tiger book.

Sometimes there are multiple deadlines. That’s the deal when I work on my Quicken for Windows book. My editor actually has a spreadsheet that lists all the chapters and they dates they’re due. Sometimes they’re only a day or two apart. I used to follow those deadlines carefully. Now I just churn away at the revision and submit chapters as I finish them. Some come in early, others don’t. But it all gets done on time.

Does your editor tell you this deadline’s date? Sometimes. It depend on the editor.

The Drop-Dead Deadline

The drop dead deadline is the real date the book needs to be done. That date is often tied in with some third party event.

For example, my Peachpit books all have drop-dead deadlines based on printer schedules. Here’s how it works. I work on a book and my editors (editorial and production) get a feel for when the book will be ready to go to the printer. They schedule a printing date. The printer expects to get the files that make up the book by that date. If Peachpit and I miss that date, we’ll miss our printing slot and will have to wait for the next slot. I have a feeling that there’s a financial penalty involved with missing a drop-dead deadline, but fortunately, I’ve never been asked to cough up money.

Does your editor tell you this deadline’s date? Of course not! The book has to be done before that.

The Sad Truth

The sad truth is that most editors don’t expect their authors to meet deadlines because so few do.

I remember my third book (which was my second solo book). I finished the book the day it was due (per the contract) and actually hired a courier to deliver the manuscript to my editor in New York. (I lived in New Jersey at the time.) This was in the days before manuscripts were submitted electronically via e-mail or FTP. Back when they actually expected me to print out two double-spaced copies of the document and I’d send it in a manuscript box. Anyway, my editor was completely shocked to get the manuscript on time.

I, of course, was proud of myself for writing 300 pages in 10 days.

The moral of this story? Don’t sweat the contract deadline and get it done within a reasonable time.

Grand Canyon…Again?

I get yet another good charter.

This has been a good month for Flying M Air. I just booked yet another Grand Canyon charter. And this one goes by way of Meteor Crater.

Meteor CraterThe client called, wanting to know if it were possible to see Meteor Crater and the Grand Canyon in the same day. He was vacationing in Wickenburg with two kids. His son wanted to see Meteor Crater and his daughter wanted to see the Grand Canyon. He was thinking about driving but wisely realized that he’d be spending all day in the car.

Sure it’s possible, I told him. But I had to do some calculations to see what it would cost. It turned out to cost only $200 more than just going to the Grand Canyon.

Sold!

We’ll depart Wickenburg at 9 AM, fly north over Prescott and Sedona to Meteor Crater, circle the crater once or twice, and head northwest to the big ditch. They’ll go into the park for a few hours, then take a helicopter tour with Papillon over the canyon. Then back to the helicopter for a direct flight home. Three hours in the helicopter with me and about 25 minutes in the helicopter with Papillon.

It’ll be nice to take a more scenic route to the GC. I haven’t been over Meteor Crater since last summer.

And frankly, Meteor Crater looks much better from the air than it does from the ground.

Swansea Here We Come!

I finally get my BLM permit for Swansea.

Miners houses at Swansea Town SiteIn December 2004, I applied for a permit to conduct helicopter tours to Swansea Town Site. Swansea is a ghost town in a remote area of the Arizona desert, west of Alamo Lake, south of the Bill Williams River, north of Bouse, and east of Parker. I takes about 3 hours to get there by car — well, by Jeep, since a car can’t make it on the sometimes sandy, sometimes rocky dirt roads — and about 40 minutes to get there by helicopter. The idea was to take day trippers out to the town site, let them walk around with a BLM self-guided walking tour brochure, give them some refreshments when they’re done, and fly them back to Wickenburg. The trip would cost $495 for up to three passengers.

Miners houses at Swansea Town SiteYou might be asking why I need a permit to use public land. BLM, in case you’re not aware, stands for Bureau of Land Management. It’s a part of the Department of the Interior. Of the Federal Government. These are government managed lands that belong to the people. And the people can use them, as long as they follow certain rules. Among those rules are that if you want to make money by operating a tour or anything else on BLM lands, you have to get a permit.

I applied for that permit in December. It cost me $80 that was not refundable and there was no guarantee that I’d get the permit. Talk about gambling!

Of course, I didn’t get any response at all to my application. I followed up in January. That’s when I was told they needed more information, like proposed landing zones. So I took my helicopter, which was brand spanking new at the time, and my GPS, and John and Lorna, and flew out to Swansea. I landed on my preferred landing zone, which was near the middle of town, and walked around taking GPS readings of the places that would work as landing zones. I came up with about seven of them. I also took photos. One photo showed my preferred landing zone, which just happened to have my helicopter in it.

When I got back to my office, I fed the GPS coordinates into my mapping software to produce a topo map with the coordinates on it. I then numbered them in order of preference. I took the photos from the flight, stuck it in an envelope with a cover letter and the map, and sent it to BLM in Lake Havasu.

A few days later I got a message on my voicemail from BLM scolding me for landing at Swansea. It was my understanding that as a private citizen on personal recreation (not for hire), I was allowed to land on BLM land, as long as it wasn’t wilderness area or my landing would cause damage (common sense stuff). So I wrote a letter back to them. They replied grudgingly, in writing, that I was right. It’s one of those letters you keep, if you know what I mean.

Next, they told me they’d have to do an environmental impact study. This irked me for two reasons:

  • The majority of people who come to Swansea do so on ATVs and some of them have no qualms about tearing up the desert with their fat little tires. They don’t care about archeological sites or desert tortoises. Irresponsible. Yet when I land, my vehicle touches the ground in precisely two long places — where my skids touch down — and I don’t damage a thing.
  • This environmental impact study, which I thought was a waste of time and money, would be done with taxpayer dollars. I’m a taxpayer. And it made me wonder how much other wasteful spending BLM did.

But you can’t fight them. You really can’t. So although I voiced my protest and even wrote to my senators and congressmen, I had no choice but to wait.

In actuality, what I did was write off the $80 as a bad investment and swear I’d never send another dime to BLM.

Time passed. The guy who was working my case retired. I really didn’t expect to ever hear from BLM again.

Then, in December, my cell phone rang while I was at the airport putting away the helicopter after a flight. It was a new person from BLM. He introduced himself and said he was working on my application.

“Bad news?” I asked, figuring he was calling to say that it had been turned down.

“Well, no,” he replied, sounding a bit surprised. “At least I don’t think so. We’re almost done with the application and it looks like it will be approved.”

I tried not to sound shocked. He went on to tell me that he’d need BLM listed on my insurance policy as an additional named insured (no problem). We then had a very pleasant conversation about Swansea and what a great place it was. He was very friendly and knowledgeable and a real pleasure to talk to. I wrote his name and phone number down so I could follow up.

Of course, I lost that information. (if you saw my desk, you’d know why.)

Months passed. Then on Thursday of last week, my BLM man called again. He wanted to put the permit in the mail, but needed the insurance. No problem, I assured him. I’d fax it over. He gave me his name and fax number. (Can you believe I lost them again?) Today, I called the office, got the information I needed, and faxed over the insurance. And when I got home from work the permit was in my mailbox.

I still can’t believe it.

Now I know my original contact had warned me that the process could take as much as six months. Well, he really said 180 days. But maybe he meant 16 months? Or 480 days? Because that’s how long it took. The government doesn’t exactly move quickly. (Look at New Orleans after Hurricane Katrina.)

The permit is a simple piece of paper. The letter that came with it has some restrictions that are easy to live with. Only 3 allowed landing zones — none of which is my preferred, but one of which is very good. A maximum visit of 2 hours — as if there will be someone there with a stopwatch to time us. No overnight camping. No more than four people total — that’s all that my helicopter can seat anyway, so it would be impossible to bring more.

My contact told me he needs to chat with me before I start using the permit. i’ll call him on Thursday.

In the meantime, I’m looking forward to adding the Swansea Ghost Town tour to Flying M Air’s Web site.