The views expressed in the Writer-in-Residence blogs are those held by the authors and do not necessarily reflect the views of Open Book: Toronto.
THE WALLFLOWER CONFESSIONS
Submitted by bstone on July 8, 2008 - 6:45am
5. Neurotic Writer Waits for Attention (or Look at me, I Wrote a Book)
Every Saturday I am not reviewed by an Esteemed Books Editor (“EBE”) in A Large National Paper’s First Fiction section. Every Saturday, I start the weekend by being almost pushed down the stairs by 3 ravenous, raccoon-sized cats, who shove me into the kitchen before I can make the turn to go to the front door. As I pour the kibble, I think, please EBE, please. He does not hear my silent praying. It never occurs to me to actually take this up with God, who has often hung me out to dry as an intervener in the past. Now I pray directly to the guy who can make things happen. Please EBE.
This is the time that you try to prepare yourself for mentally. Publishing a book does not change your life, you tell yourself. You do not become a celebrity, says the sensible part of your brain. People will not stare at you in restaurants. No movie rights are sold. Life continues as it did before. You write alone, at odd hours, thinking what am I writing and why. You buy groceries late at night at the 24-hour places because you have simultaneously run out of both cat kibble and muesli and know that, while you can live without your own breakfast, you will not be permitted to live if there is no cat breakfast.
At least while I am holding the kibble bag, I am the center of attention. However, EBE continues to avert his eyes.
