Musings on Writing

This morning on my way to work I thought some more about the book I would eventually write. I thought maybe a non-fiction, serious book, about migratory patterns and traffic of the human race over the eons. A silly idea, but then I tried to get it published, in my mind, and publishers were asking where I went to school. To the first few I replied that it was my own stuff, but after a number of chuckles and refusals, I pretended to be from one college or another, Berkeley I think, and they would then, instead of taking myword for it, make a phone call to verify, since they had never heard of me. I would eventually wind up with a smaller publisher, with smaller distribution, and smaller lump of change, but then I consoled myself with the fact that I hadn't shelled out for 6 years of school, this was to be my opportunity cost, and that after a few books, and several people picking them up and recognizing their value, I would eventually be sought after and well paid for my efforts.

I thought long and hard about something that I would want to read about, something that would catch me enough to drive me to read all about a topic, making copious notes, so that eventually it was a book. I remember trying to talk my sister into publishing her material which she'd accumulated by scratching together curricula for her various teaching jobs. i couldn't understand her reluctance.

This little blog is my start. I am writing for everyone and no one. I wonder how many writers write a book, and send it out like a litlte handmade boat onto the water.