The Write Stuff?

This is more than I’ve done with this blog, consistently at least, in quite some time. But I’ve told myself that I need to get far, far away from the constant dribbling beat – easy, slow and methodical – of the 15 inch news piece. That shit’s easy for me now – too easy, really. Like putting in my contact lenses, which is done with the ease of the steady hand of habit.

I have next to no followers on this blog. What are there, nine of you? Hi! Wow, one of them is me! Some of you may know that I have intentions of writing a book about my uber-trip of this past summer. I have gotten intimidated over the past few days reading blogs and articles and summaries on Websites about how to get the book writing process off the ground. Most writers, I’ve learned, fail to get their books published for several reasons:

1)    Their story idea is too broad and, therefore, is unmarketable.

2)    Someone didn’t do their homework and, therefore, doesn’t know what they’re writing about.

3)    They just totally suck at writing.

But the sum of Nos. 1, 2 and 3 is usually splashed around somewhere in the book proposal, a dreadful but necessary document that can make or break your chances of getting to be a shitty writer in the first place. Well, not totally. I can do that here.

The book proposal sounds like taking chemotherapy. It really, really, really blows, but you have to do it. Make sure to bend over, too, ‘cause it's going up your ass. In 10 to 60 pages, you map out your entire book, or at least what it is generally going to look like. You describe the chapters, what motivated you to write the book, who your audience will be and how it will be marketed. And you have to answer the most important question of the entire before-you-even-think-about-writing-the-book process: “Why are you the only person in the world who could write this book?”

That’s the dumbest question ever, I think. No one is that important. Someone will always do it better, catchier, flashier and more thorough. There is always a circling hawk out there, waiting up in the thermals for a chance to dive down and sink its 4-inch talons into your lunch. Period.

I think you write the damn thing because something moves you to, because you felt something, because it’s the only way you feel like you can adequately express something powerful and meaningful and important. And that’s that. I just want a platform to say something, not a market plan.