Here is a "scenario" about how you **could** write a book.
You could be in the middle of a conversation with one of your dearest friends, talking about laundry soap or who-knows-what and suddenly all the stars align and you know the next topic of conversation.
"Hey, we should write a book together."
Beloved friend, without breaking stride responds something like this, "YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS, how have we never done this before? I mean, we kind of have, but this-yes, LET'S. Let's start NOW."
Did I mention that you're self-employed and work 60ish hours a week and that she has a newborn? Should I mention that I live in Brantford, Ontario and she lived in South Africa?
Okay, cool, cool. Just so we're all on the same page.
...fast forward two years and here we are. PEOPLE, WE ARE ALMOST FULLY DONE WITH DRAFT ONE. And yes, I just yelled that. Sorry, not sorry.
In fact, we are meeting up next month to have our first, in-person editing session in her current hometown of Omaha.
Lindsay Blake (spoiler alert, she's my book-writing second half) is full of energy and drive. When I'm feeling over this whole book-writing-scheme and under-inspired, she sends me encouraging messages full of butt-kicking and hope.
She is forever positive, hilarious and an amazingly talented writer. Thank God for her in my life and on this venture.
We message constantly about new ideas, annoying things our characters insist on doing (sometimes they're just dumb) or when we're simply stuck.
When I feel overwhelmed with how much we still have to do, she tells me we can do it together. When she tells me this is all a bit crazy, I do nothing to dissuade her because I fully agree. But still we go forward together.
Thank you, Linds; I love you to the moon and back.
For the past two years we've texted, FaceTimed, stopped writing, started writing, started crying. All these months later. finally seeing the book take shape feels incredibly good.
I have a list of "hardest things I've done in my life" which is a topic for another blog, but writing this book is not yet on the top five list. Maybe it is on the top ten. I do have a feeling we have a few more miles to cover with this gem and that it might creep its way onto that first list after all.
I'll keep you posted.
If you don't hear from me much in the next few days, it's because I have hours and hours blocked out over the weekend to clear my head, focus on our characters and simply write to the very best of my ability.
My dad's been telling for me ages that I should write a book, and I hope he's not the only one who still believes it once this gets printed.
Oh yeah-we definitely want to get this published. We spend a lot of time dialoguing about what we'll say in interviews. And this isn't because we're particularly arrogant or delusional; it's mostly because we're writing our hearts out and believe in crazy dreams.
So I guess I would say that the secret of how to write (and publish!) a book goes a little something like this:
2. write some more
3. don't get too attached to anything you've written, be willing to delete anything and write some more.
You're welcome. And no, you can't borrow Lindsay. I mean, I don't own her or anything, but we have a few more book ideas in the works, so I think she'll be a little busy.
p.s. In case you were wondering, an excerpt:
We were halfway to the airport when I nearly ran off the road as I braked.
“Did you remember the Leica?” I can’t believe it took me this long to ask. I felt myself start to sweat.
She rolled her eyes. “I will not deign to answer.”
“Did you remember,” she stopped me short with one finger on my lips and the other on the volume knob.
“I remember how much I love this song,” she leaned back into her seat, closed her eyes and sank into the music.
She has always been sassy.