The book I really want to write is the next one.
An odd choice? Well, I could hope for one to be a NYT best
seller (not without a movie deal, which ranks up there with hen’s teeth) or to
become a classic (hen’s teeth with diamonds). All quite reasonable “wants” for
any author. So why….
Easy peasy.
The next book is always perfect, a shining light, the
ultimate dream. It is, in short, Author’s Fantasy Work. It has not yet been
shoved in front of the reviewing wolves to be torn apart, revealing all the
faults and glitches. It has not yet garnered reviews from readers who say they
did not finish because it was boring or so disgusting it ought to be burned. Or
worse, it has not generated a note from someone who says, “On page X, you said
Y, and you are wrong because…” (signed: Revered Expert in All Things Mentioned
on Page X).
So what’s an author to do? Write it? Bronze it? Dream on?
Write the book. It will be wonderful in places (yay), not so
hot in others (live with it), contain groaners (groan) and garner both praise
and blame. The main thing is that, like babies, some progeny will be wonderful,
others not so much, but they are all our books and we love them. If we could
stop writing, we would. There are less angst-filled jobs after all—telemarketing
comes to mind. Instead of changing professions, we learn to live with
imperfection.
And, in the meantime, the book I really want to write is the
one just after…