Can I, Can’t I?

I can’t, I can!

At the very outset I have to say I am staring at this beautiful masthead uploaded here. This has been my beacon and my instrument of faith, hope and love, for believing in myself as a writer and believing I will come to author a book I can be proud of. I filched it for the post as an acknowledgment of someone who stands for a whole lot of things I am trying so hard to be.

A seminal moment confronted me today as I walked home in a sweat, back and legs aching, from the pesky chore of chasing the bank. Somewhat akin to chasing crooks really! There was certainly something different about writing a book that people would read. My mind returned to the Collection of 33 Essays. Each essay would have been trimmed, some merged, and a plethora of hyperlinks, quotes and references tucked into suitable places so the book made sense as seen in print on paper. It would of course have found a perch on shelves of college libraries. People could have picked up an essay at random ... and another. And then they’d have got bored in a bit, because people like the presence of people around them.

Is that one possible reason why Book Readings succeed? Some have read the book already, others decide to arm themselves with a copy and yet others find their curiosity kindled enough to buy one. And then some who really aren't into books but find themselves there through some social compulsion, feel silly or left out so they pick up their copies and religiously get them signed – or slip away when no one is looking. But then a book reading with the coffee et al and the overheads, could cost a tidy something! Unless I haul the little monsters (bless their hearts) up my heritage stairs and seat them all on the floor in my drawing room! Well does anyone have a reading for a collection of essays to promote it? I wonder.

Heck where is my mind wandering? It’s the thought of people that led me there. No I wasn’t planning any sort of book reading for a book that isn’t yet written, but a whole lot of writing has been flowing out of me. And there seems to be some connective magic that is linking all those pages together smoothly. Maybe that’s how authors wrote a column? Week after week? And the readers started getting hooked. And then they became regular. And then they started remembering what you wrote last week. And so on... 

But I was not at all meaning to talk about capturing an audience and holding them captive over time. I am talking about capturing these discrete ideas and making them link arms and dance together effortlessly. And I am guessing there’s more than one way to make it happen. For instance the book of essays that might-have-been, was content driven. There was a loose connection between the essays as they were all generated to answer questions emerging as responses to a classroom session and a presentation video that 33 people happened to experience - 33 of a peer group, similar in age and studying similar subjects. Young and fortunately, curious – yes some asked three questions in place of one. A few forewords and afterwords, and a few smaller essays by way of explanatory notes, would have sorted out the sense of isolation the pieces might have felt from one another. But also perhaps “dried” out the whole work considerably, tilting it in the direction of a possible boredom-inducer.

And that’s where the people suddenly spoke up in my head. People would be present to string those essays together. The very people who asked the questions and received these essays as answers. Or people very much like them. That was when it became a whole other book in my mind. And no, these were not repetitive Q&A sessions over the internet. These were real people gathering face to face. And what really keeps a reader excited about a book is a sense of place and time. It seemed so easy. What isn’t so easy however is that the story, the situations, the here and now interactions are guiding my hand. They want to flow out of it with a mind of their own. Try as I might, I am unable to bend them to the needs and demands of those 33 essays, many of which have been masterfully crafted. So in what ways do these essays pop up as the narrative demands, and fit themselves into place like actors on cue? This interface, this stimulus and response, this conversation not only between the characters, but between the essays and the intent and purpose of the story, all need to evolve.

If you ask me, my purpose is finding itself. Gracefully and willfully at the same time. The book and I are conversing and trying to find balance in our turns at steering the boat. The essays like the people, need to become characters in the play/interplay. So we talk not only over them, we need to talk to them. That is, as the author - Master of The Ship - I need to talk to them and ask them what role they want to play and what they would like to contribute. Now that I’ve given voice to the muddled up thoughts in my head, I feel suddenly like not just the author but the director of the play. We are now gearing up to bring each other to life as creator and creation. Out of that, the purpose will find itself. On with the writing!

PS It just struck me while reading this back to myself that the book and I were equal partners as writers. The word “author” however popped out at me. It was quite unconsciously that I equated her to the Captain of the ship. Yes author - derived from authority. My roles were both as writer and as author. Just realizing that right now has put things in even better perspective.

Footnote: This was first written in 2016. It reads back like I just wrote it though. Did time stand still or did I take a detour into some other realm I wonder?
"The intent and purpose of the story, all need to evolve." At the time of making this post public, they are evolving with a magical energy, thanks to the responses I've received to my October Post Marathon.  Now I need my readers cheering me on every step of the way!