This book was written right after a trip to West Texas at the beginning of the year. It's been cooking now for about six months. When I first wrote it down, I really had no idea what I was doing. I had never, at least not on purpose, written a children's book. I have had many ideas for one, just never actually tackled the beast. As soon as I had the first handwritten draft, I understood how difficult it is to write a children's book. It's a mistake to think that because it's a short piece it's easy. Short writing is often the hardest kind. In the beginning I was so unhappy with the thing, I just took the pages and stuck them inside the laptop case and forgot about them.
And then I started reading about writing children's books. I made a list of books to read, even though I've done a lot of that already, having raised two children myself, both of whom loved to hear me read books. When reviewing books for the newspaper, I would often get assigned the children's books that came in, so I have done a bit of reading for children. But still, you can never educate yourself too much. So I have a list of books to read, and will do that as soon as we return from the trip we're about to go on to Montana.
I'm actually excited about this book, now that it's gone through it's second draft. There's still work to be done, but I decided Sunday, after I had worked on it all afternoon, that I would not reread it again until we're back from the mountains next week. And yet, I find myself wondering if I still have a few contacts that matter at a couple of publishing houses I've dealt with -- and wondering how to find out about that, too. Things change so quickly, and have changed dramatically since I've had a book published -- any book. But that's putting the cart before the horse, something I've preached against in past workshops. Get the thing written, a final draft, then worry about a publisher.
Why is it that writers, many writers anyway, don't consider any kind of work that doesn't result in a published book to be "real writing?" This puzzles me. It's as if the only measure of success is to have something between hard covers. I am constantly asked when I'm going to have another book published. Answering that question is one of the reason I've sequestered myself away from people and places where books and writing are commonly discussed. Most of the people around me now don't really think of me as a writer, at least not a writer of books, and that's OK. That's actually much more comfortable for me. I feel less pressured, and the outside pressure has been one of the things keeping my writing at bay. And anyway, isn't there real value in just writing for pleasure, maybe for posterity, or even just for yourself?
We are still not done with the roofers. I cannot believe how long it has taken them to re-roof this house. Yesterday I made a list of things they had destroyed along with replacement costs. I intend to present the list to the contractor when he asks for his final payment.
Onward ....
No comments:
Post a Comment