Be careful what you share in groups … you may have to demonstrate what you know.
The other day I made a comment on my local Adobe user group site that I was playing around with Muse, that I liked the interface, that it reminded me of InDesign, that it was easy to use, blah blah blah.
They said, “Wow, great, could you demonstrate it to us?”
Be careful what you share … you may have to demonstrate what you know (or don’t know!)
So, I did what any red-blooded newby Muse-user would do and I said, “Sure.”
Now here’s the thing: I am not an expert Muse-user. I am barely a beginner Muse-user. So, am I really qualified to demonstrate to my user group what I know?
OK, Glass. It’s not you, it’s me. Well, it’s a little bit you.
Those of you who have been following my posts know that I was accepted into the Google Glass Explorers program back in March of this year. In July, I flew to L.A. to pick up the coveted device. The happy, heady feeling of taking part in something new and ground-breaking never left. But, alas, the reality of Glass was not the same as the idea of Glass.
The reality of Glass was not the same as my idea of Glass.
I have arrived in L.A. This is my first time in California. I am here for my appointment to be fitted and instructed in the use of Google Glass. I am early. The airport shuttle drops me off in front of Google. I have to admit, the entrance makes a perfect welcome for the Glass Explorers. I am too early.
Imagine being able to read your manuscript in book form before it was submitted to a publishing service. Imagine how it would feel to hold that very first copy in your hands, caress the cover, riffle the pages, open it, sign it, hand it to someone else (maybe your mom). Imagine being able to do that in about an hour or less.
That’s the beauty of the Espresso Book Machine, the brainchild of a St. Louis inventor who envisioned a printing machine that could both photocopy and bind a book.