I’m struggling to come up with a suitable subject about which to pontificate this week. If I were you I’d take advantage of it; enjoy it; bask in my glaring deficiency of loquaciousness, because this doesn’t happen very often. Generally, even during the droughts when I think I have nothing to say, I manage to pound out a fairly substantial .
It was about a year ago that I last had this problem. I was on deadline for my weekly contribution to the and struggling to put even a solitary word to paper or, to be more accurate, to computer monitor. But even in the midst of the worst brain freeze/writer’s block I’d experienced in quite some time, I managed to pen, – a compilation of some 1,100-plus words. Not bad, eh?
Truth be told, I typically have trouble bringing my thoughts to a close. I tend to go overboard. I’m verbose to a fault. Once my somewhat weathered brain gets cranked up into high gear, it doesn’t want to shut down. I’m pretty sure they have for that.
When I first began my stint with Easton Patch back in October of 2010, I asked , the Easton editor, how many words he wanted from me each week. “About five-hundred,” he replied rather naively.
You see, Pat had just met me for the first time. He had no clue what he was in for. probably averaged about 1,400 words with a few flirting with the 2,000 mark - and he had to read every word of every one of them!
But today is different. Today, trying to put a few cogent thoughts together is tantamount to trying to start a charcoal grill in a hurricane. No matter how hard I try, I just can’t seem to get my gray matter fired up.
I think I may know what the problem is. Burnout! I’ve been working overtime the past couple of weeks putting together a book proposal. I have my book about half written, and I have to tell you, writing the book is much easier than writing the book proposal.
Book proposals are a pain in the derrière, but they’re a necessary function in getting a book published - akin to the beginning of the birthing process. Now please understand, I’m not a mother (though I have been called one once or twice in my life) and I don’t claim to understand the intensity of the pain of childbirth; though my wife did squeeze my hand so hard during the birth of our son, Chris, that she damn near broke it – my hand, not our son. He’s still very much intact. Who knew a woman with arms that thin could squeeze that hard? Coincidentally, that was one of the times I was called a mother. Sheesh! Women are so emotional!
While I was writing that last paragraph I got an email from the post office. It’s a confirmation that the publisher to whom I sent my book proposal received it at 8:37 this morning. I’m psyched! Now commences the long, arduous process of waiting with bated breath until I hear back from the publishing house. I’m hoping my breath will smell better by then. ‘Bated’ sounds a bit funky, don’t you think?
According to their writer’s guidelines, it’s about a three to four-month process, which seems like an eternity; but if they accept my proposal I’ll gladly accept the not-so-instant gratification of a book contract. I’ve set up a writing schedule so I’m sure to have my manuscript ready to go, should I be fortunate enough to have it accepted.
Now if I could only come up with an idea for this column. Oh, well! I’m sure I’ll think of something.
Make it a great week!
Bob Havey is a freelance writer and a consummate trouble-maker. His column, The Way I See It, runs every other Wednesday at http://norton.patch.com. Check out his author’s page on Facebook https://www.facebook.com/Bobfreelance