Writing A Book Is Hard And Other Complaints That Don’t Matter

Upon returning home from my first writing conference, I was motivated and ready to seriously tackle that one thing I have been yacking about for a century, writing a book. I didn’t know the ‘right’ way to do it or how to get it published or who would want to read it, so I haphazardly wrote in a few different programs without knowing what the fuck I was doing. That’s the truth. I didn’t have an outline or a platform or a pitch or anything that resembled a book. I had thousands of words floating in a computer program. Pretty impressive, I know. I decided that it was time to print it all out and take a good look at the shit I had accumulated. So I did. And what I had surprised the shit out of me. 120 pages of ranting, complaining, whining and semi-funny stories. And it was a cluster fuck. There was no rhyme or reason to it, no single concept and I had no idea how to put it together in a clear and readable fashion. I still don’t. I have taken scissors to most of it, thrown out crap that no one cares about and attempted to organize the vomit that exemplifies my brain. It’s a full time job and it is really hard.

I know, boo hoo. “People write books all the time, stop your bitching.” You are right, they do. And I have no room to complain about a job where I sit on my ass all day and type on a computer. Especially when I reminisce about the days when I use to scrub public toilets and wipe feces off of walls. The problem is, I don’t know how to do this thing I am supposedly doing. One day I am a writing genius, putting it all together and I can imagine thousands of people wanting to buy my book. The next day I can’t remember how to spell or what adjective to use and I’m convinced that I will end up seeing my book at the Dollar Store 24 hours after it gets published. Where I will then buy each and every copy, sit in my car drinking a bottle of white wine and cry alone. While listening to Neil Diamond. Truthfully, I don’t know how it’s going to turn out and that’s what makes me manic. But I’m not giving up and if my book does end up at every Dollar Store on the West Coast, at least I’ll have a reason to take a month long road trip.