Hi-doh Hi-dee Ha-Ha . . . what? What is that supposed to mean?  What kind of title is that for a book?  How will anyone remember that?  Well, it is afterall, a fantasy.

And yes, I stole it from Cab Calloway, but put a wackier spin on it.

That’s the point.  How else do you make sense of our fleeting existence?  It’s like a cruel joke, to end it all so soon, and on top of that, aging.  But I’m getting ahead of myself.  Hi-doh Hi-dee Ha-Ha is meant to be fun, full of child-like joy, despite the serious undertones.

A friend asked where it came from; all I could say, from somewhere inside.  Not a splash of inspiration like On the Road or A Christmas Carol, but the “fits and starts” of Huck Finn.  It had no predetermined conclusion, as I was searching for it, as I wrote it, just like Charles in the book, and I’m still searching.

It’s filled with references to persons and memories in my life. Last year as I was preparing its revivaI and the audio version that has taken more than a year to complete, I realized that it’s more real for me now, two decades later, and I think for others.

My first love as a writer was fantasy.  I started out writing dark allegories reminiscent of Franz Kafka that evolved into satires of my experiences and people I had met in my life.  I reached out to the writing community and joined a number of writing groups from which I not only learned about writing but which reinforced my desire to be a writer.

For the longest time I considered myself an aspiring writer, even as I got older, I still was an aspiring writer. And even now, I’m still aspiring. It wasn’t until my mid-thirties that I decided to enter a graduate writing program at Iowa State University.  I enjoyed my time at ISU, also taking grad courses in journalism and working on the staff of the Iowa State Daily, where I became acquainted with Giles Fowler, the Daily’s faculty advisor, attending the after hour’s parties at his home, which were a learning experience in itself.  I was busy every minute, working for the Daily, teaching freshman composition or working at the English Department Writing Center as a TA, as well as keeping up with my fiction and poetry writing workshops.

Minimalism was the favored style at the time, a la Raymond Carver.  My penchant for fantasy was given only mild encouragement.  Nevertheless, I learned the fundamentals and was able to have fun in the poetry workshops of Neal Bowers and the fiction workshops of Mike Martone.  I received the most encouragement from Victorian Literature professor, Phil Davies. However, I left ISU with more preparation for the world of journalism than the world of fiction.

So, I became a news reporter and English teacher.  When the latter seemed to sap all my energy for writing, I left full-time teaching and tried to make it as a writer.  I wrote for monthlies, weeklies, tabloids, short-lived pubs, dailies, business journals, whatever, I wrote for it for insupportable pay.

While at Iowa State, I came up with an idea to write a fantasy novel and did an independent study on classic fantasy with Phil Davies.  I wanted to do it for my thesis.  But my advisor, Jane Smiley didn’t think I was ready for it and said that I always could do it after graduation. I wasn’t happy but it was good advice.  Eventually, a decade after graduation from ISU, Hi-doh Hi-dee Ha-Ha was self-published.

For a decade while writing various parts of Hi-doh Hi-dee Ha-Ha, I submitted fiction to publications without success.  Actually, I had been trying to break into fiction publications for ten years before I went to graduate school with little success, writing a bunch of short stories and three unpublished novels.  I remember during that time, a short-lived fiction magazine accepted two of my stories, but by the time they were supposed to be published, the magazine had folded.

Self-publication is not easy, and I had submitted to three major New York publishers. One of them, Philomel Books, then an imprint of Putnam, gave me encouraging comments, writing at first that they were considering it rather than sending the form rejection letter.  I called and an editorial assistant said it was going to be considered by the publication committee. But of course, it was finally rejected.

Officially, the book was not self-published but under the imprint of Nordel Publishing, at the time a publisher of annual police department magazines.  I worked for them, writing feature articles for the magazines.  It was a good job because I highlighted the good things police do.  Sad, that another side to the police has grown increasingly in recent years.

The owner, Norby Fleisig, who learned of my efforts with Hi-doh, offered to publish it and put up the money for its printing. I also received donations from my father and friends. I put an ad in the local newspapers for an illustrator and received several responses. I met with them and decided to hire Erik McKenney. I gave him illustrations from fantasy books that I liked and after a few tries, he created a drawing whose style I thought fit. In all, he created 58 pen and ink drawings; my girlfriend at the time, Peggy Steinbach, an art teacher, did the cover illustration.

In the meantime, I read some books on self-publishing, taking copious notes and lined up a visit to the American Booksellers Association’s annual convention in Chicago.  The completion of 2000+ printed copies was to coincide with its dates, so Erik and I could pick up the books at the Ohio printer on the way to Chicago. It was a star-struck affair.  I met both Kareem Abdul-Jabbar and Dr. Ruth. What a convoluted coincidence.  A lot of my life has been like that.

For a decade while writing various parts of Hi-doh Hi-dee Ha-Ha, I submitted fiction to publications without success.  Actually, I had been trying to break into fiction publications for ten years before I went to graduate school with little success, writing a bunch of short stories and three unpublished novels.  I remember during that time, a short-lived fiction magazine accepted two of my stories, but by the time they were supposed to be published, the magazine had folded.

Self-publication is not easy, and it was not something I wanted to do. I had submitted to three major New York publishers. One of them, Philomel Books, then an imprint of Putnam, gave me encouraging comments, writing at first that they were considering it rather than sending the form rejection letter.  I called and an editorial assistant said it was going to be considered by the publication committee. But of course, it was finally rejected.

I had circulated a copy of the manuscript to others, including Kayo Wayner, an accountant I met at the YMCA, who had been a close friend of my high school basketball coach.  He liked the book and suggested I raise some money and self-publish it.  At the time, one of my jobs was as a feature writer for Nordel Publishing, a publisher of annual police department magazines.  It was a good job because I highlighted the good things police do.  I told the owner, Norby Fleisig, of my efforts with Hi-doh and he offered to publish it if I would help with the editing of his late father’s 800-page philosophical treatise.  In the end, we finally decided his father’s manuscript was not worth publishing because no one would want to read something that read like Immanuel Kant.

In addition to Norby’s contribution, I also received donations from Kayo, my father, and other friends. I put an ad in the local newspapers for an illustrator and received several responses. I met with them and decided to hire Erik McKenney. I gave him illustrations from fantasy books that I liked and after a few tries, he created a drawing whose style I thought fit. In all, he created 58 pen and ink drawings; my girlfriend at the time, Peggy Steinbach, an art teacher, did the cover illustration.

In the meantime, I read some books on self-publishing, taking copious notes and lined up a visit to the American Booksellers Association’s annual convention in Chicago.  The completion of 2000+ printed copies was to coincide with its dates, so Erik and I could pick up the books at the Ohio printer on the way to Chicago. It was a star-struck affair.  I met both Kareem Abdul-Jabbar and Dr. Ruth. What a convoluted coincidence.  A lot of my life has been like that.

I managed to obtain a distributor, New Leaf, which specializes in New Age titles, and they gave me an order for 200 books.  Erik, however, was unable to obtain a contract with a publisher for work as an illustrator. We headed home buoyed by the mild success.

The publishing industry is a network of connections. The big boys or girls in NYC are for the most part in control.  They get the reviews in the publications, which they in part subsidize with their hefty ads.  And in those days, 22 years ago, before the mushrooming of the Internet, self-publishing was even more difficult.

That doesn’t mean you can’t dream, nor that there are no exceptions to the rule.  But real success for a self-published book is mostly a stroke of luck.  Life is not fair though it seems fate sometimes intervenes.  Who knows why?  That is what makes life so interesting, and at times tragic. The fact is those who self-publish or publish with unknowns like Nordel will be suspect from the start.  People will think it’s an amateur production.  This happened to me at my local library.

I brought the book to reference and they said they would pass it on the children’s librarian.  It was here that I first experienced what has been a common occurrence regarding the book.  Because of its wacky title, childish or child-like depending on your perspective, it was considered a book for young children, Middle School being the highest level.  For example, I had left a copy with a supposed children’s book expert.  I forget his name but he operated a long-running bookshop in Albany, NY.  He took offense at the use of the word, fart, on the first page and stopped reading, commenting on its inappropriateness.

As I said, I had written for numerous publications by that time but never for my hometown newspaper, except for my first actual publication in 1973, a letter to the editor about my high school basketball coach, Walt Przybylo, who had died suddenly of a heart attack and which was turned into a headlined article.  It was that article that Kayo had recalled so many years later and led to our friendship.  Despite ten years of regular publications, including three articles in national publications, I nevertheless had almost no recognition in my hometown.

When I approached the reference desk at the library, I saw the look of rejection on her face. No, she said they could not accept the book. She never said why, only that I should write more books. I couldn’t believe it. Local libraries always supported local authors and accepted their books gratefully.  When I asked her how much she had read, she only said, enough. Probably just the first page with the name, Mustfart, on it.

To listen to some clips from the audio book, go to my website: tomcalarco.com/blog