Working on the first chapter of the book and sprucing up the book proposal for the next round. Turns out to be harder to sell a book on my nonfiction topic than we thought. I guess even with enthusiasm, it's a little harder to get a book off the ground these days. It is good to be writing again, though. Oh, and remember my novel, love of my life for the past decade and a half? Tome that came so, so, so close on so many occasions to being published? I had a good idea about it the other day. I thought of it so fondly, it made me nearly teary. It prompted this thought: maybe in the end it's not so much about everyone else and commercial success and books in print. Maybe it's just about me and my process and the growth of my soul. Ever think of that? (Honestly, no; I never did.) I also read recently that Michelangelo approached his sculptures by thinking that God had already made them; all he had to do was find the shape in all that marble. I kind of liked that idea.
2 comments:
That's a brave and wonderful conclusion.
Our writings ought to change our readers, if only just a little bit. (Isn't that the main point of writing?). And who's our first reader---but ourselves!
So, if we're not changing ourselves with our writing, then what the hell, right?
right.
Z
I have a book moldering in the closet for ten years...3 chapters to go...process and growth of soul...makes me smile. And God did make the David...there's truly no other explanation.
Post a Comment