MSI Press Blog

  In honor of Caturday, we are posting another except from How My Cat Made Me a Better Man , a Book of the Year finalist. Fear of Failure You're not perfect. You'll fail at many things, sometimes in mind-blowingly spectacular fashion. Don't let that stop you from going after your goals because if you don't make an effort, you've already failed. On one of Shelly's exciting trips down the hallway of my apartment building, she got confused. She'd gone up a flight of stairs, then walked to the apartment directly above mine, which looked exactly the same. She sat patiently in front of the door and waited for me to let her in. Of course, I didn't since it wasn't my apartment. Thankfully, my upstairs neighbor didn't open his door since it would've been awkward explaining why my cat and I were hanging out on his welcome mat. Shelly's sense of direction had failed her, but even though she couldn't successfully find her way home, she still enjo...

  We talk about failure as if it’s a verdict — a stamp on the forehead, a permanent label, a whispered judgment from the universe. But in truth, failure is rarely a dead end. More often, it’s a doorway. A messy, inconvenient, humbling doorway, yes — but a doorway all the same. The trouble is that we’re conditioned to treat every misstep as a catastrophe. A project that fizzles. A plan that collapses. A relationship that doesn’t hold. A dream that doesn’t materialize on our preferred timeline. We call these things flops, as if they are evidence of personal inadequacy rather than the natural friction of being alive. But here’s the quiet truth: every flop contains information . A failure is simply feedback — sometimes gentle, sometimes blunt — about what needs to shift. It teaches us where our assumptions were off, where our preparation was thin, where our courage was strong, and where our blind spots hid. It shows us what we value enough to try again, and what we’re relieved to relea...

  (photo by Frank Perez) It is Tuesday. Time to tall turkey. Monday's madness is over, and Wednesday will take us over the hump, so Tuesday it is--for some serious discussion with authors. Tuesday talks mean to address authors in waiting and self-published authors who would like to go a more traditional route or who would at least like to take their steps with a publisher by their side. Today's topic is about contracts--bad ones. We will state upfront that contracts are filled with legal terms that are often difficult for authors to understand. That legal information is important, critical, required. Also important, critical, required is that authors understand what they sign, reading the proposed contract as carefully as they would read any other document. AND RUN IT PAST AN INTELLECTUAL PROPERTY RIGHTS LAWYER. OK, let's take a look at one can go wrong with a contract. Rights and copyrights (see our previous blog POST on this topic for more information): Never sign a contr...

  Political leaders who fail to grasp cultural relativism often mistake power for clarity. They assume that their own moral and social frameworks are universal, that their nation’s norms are self‑evident truths, and that others’ behaviors can be judged by domestic categories. The result is not only diplomatic friction—it is moral distortion. The epistemological failure Cultural relativism is not moral permissiveness. It is a discipline of perception. It requires leaders to interpret actions within the logic of the culture that produced them. Without that discipline, leaders misread motives, misjudge allies, and miscalculate threats. They confuse cultural difference with moral defect. A leader who does not understand cultural relativism sees disagreement as defiance, and diversity as disorder. Such blindness produces policies that alienate rather than reconcile, and rhetoric that inflames rather than clarifies. The political consequences Diplomatic isolation — Nations led by ethnoc...

  After Doah was released home from the neonatal unit, where he stayed for three weeks, given his premie status, life returned to normal. At least, normal for the Mahlou family. I returned to work while continuing to nurse Doah. As usual, everyone watched out for everyone else, Lizzie babysitting Noelle and Shane, and Noelle continuing with her special needs programming. Donnie, at that time, working on honing his photographic skills at the Art Institute of Pittsburgh (and using me for a model for his, yikes, nudes).  Dr. Paul, Doah's pediatrician, who knew the family and me well from all the kids, especially Noelle and her special needs, said Doah would do better at home and promised to release him as soon as he gained one ounce, which he did. Hope floated like a balloon. It was so much easier having Doah home. No more trips to the hospital to nurse him. Crazy life continued on its crazy path, but at least it was a known path for us and, therefore, mostly comfortable, perhaps...