So, I told you I have the end-of-
a-book blues. I haven’t been able to shake them yet and move on to the next one. I glanced at Sense and Sensibility in its display corner today, though, and I breathed a sigh of relief. Ah yes, I thought, the old favorites. That will get me through this.
“This” of course is not just the end-of-a-book blues but the pre-publication impatience. As I said in an earlier post, for all I know Jesus will return before my memoir is ever actually published. But knowing this and resolving to be patient have not actually made me so. I wish I could be in that Sesame Street documentary about how crayons are made. I loved watching that wax roll around in the big old vats and eventually get wrapped into paper and put into that wonderful smell-good box. I wish I could watch every step of my book that way. Starting now and without any other responsibilities until its finished.
Mom says the thing to do once one book is out of your hands is move on to the next. That’s what she is doing while her first is being edited. I know she’s right. But I haven’t done it yet. I feel too uncertain of who I want to be as a writer. It’s not like I’ve found my niche with memoir – there’s only so many of those in one person.
I think there is only one thing I know for sure. I’d like to write books that give people the feeling I had when I glanced at Sense and Sensibility today. The feeling that they can trust me to make them feel better. That would be a lovely accomplishment.