Buena Suerte
In one week from today, something amazing will happen. I will become a published book author.
There will a book out there with my name on it. All of it—every single word—written by me.
I still don’t believe it. I stand back, ever-amazed that I did it. That I got one past the goalie.
When the book is in hand, for me or others, it will likely look so easy. As though it was all right there, all along.
That’s the irony of the published word. It’s only the finished, polished piece people see. No where does it show the time and toil, the blood and tears that went into creating that thing in the hand.
People often ask me: “How did you do it?”
Word by single solitary word.
Or as novelist and memoirist Anne Lamont said in her art-of-the-craft book of the same name: Bird by Bird.
In other words, the only formula to writing a book is to put in the time. One word, then the next, then the next, then the next.
There are, of course, all the in between things. The edits, the revisions. The walking away from it, the walking back. The “why-do-I-keep-doing-this-wretched-work?” moments.
That’s the other component to writing a book. Always coming back to it, because if you walk away, it will never end up done. And if it never ends up done, it may never end up as a printed thing in your hands.
So, if you’re thinking about this thing called book writing: ask yourself two things:
1. Am I willing to keep writing words?
2. Am I willing to keep coming back to that act (again and again)?
If the answers is yes to both, you, mi amigo, have a chance.
Buena suerte.
Dreams do come true.
◊♦◊
Photo by Randy Tarampi on Unsplash