I’ve never particularly felt that I had a book “in” me, but I’ve wanted to get into book publishing for years and apply what I’ve learned from years working in magazines and newspapers.
My friend and neighbor has a compelling personal story. She is a book author and used to be constant presence on television, but withdrew from public view after an astounding series of unfortunate, even tragic, events. I’ve been telling her for years she should write a book about it. I’ve even said that I’d be her agent if I knew more about book publishing. I’ve even encouraged her to go into self-publishing, and lent her some books on the subject. That was about 8 or 9 years ago.
Then this morning, around 5, I woke up with a surge of inspiration and resolved that I would be her book publisher. I contacted her, and talked to a talented young photographer who has already made my friend a subject of a short film. By 9, we all agreed to go forward. By 10, I was taking photos of her house in the snow and by noon I had a book jacket mocked up. Maybe by 9 today I will have chosen an actress to play her in the movie version.
It helps that we both have a publishing background, have creative friends, and have mulled this idea around for years. But something just hit me. I’m funding this with my freelance income and we are unlikely to make any money from this, but I don’t care. After a life of pouring my work into disposable magazines, newspapers that turn yellow, and now blogs that are quickly forgotten, it’s time to do something like this.
Could there be a connection to this sudden energy and confidence, and some other changes going on in my life? My other news is that the architects begin work Tuesday on Casa Nana.