So you want to write a book, eh?

The first time she told me to get the f**k out, I was devastated.  The second time I nearly cried.  The third time I held my emotions in check because I didn't like feeling like I wanted to cry the last time she told me to get the f**k out.  (It was my advanced uberman age).  The fourth time I calmly told her to stop being ugly, and the last time I didn't even flinch.  Scar tissue had formed.  I even got a few pages done.  After 8 months of working 15 hour days, I had finished a first draft of my book The Wino Must Die.

The first thing she said was she didn't like the title, "why you always write about alcoholics and drug addicts? is that all you know?  Is that all there is?  I thought to myself, feeling somewhat vindicated that I finished a draft of a 300+ page fiction novel despite her.  I didn't feel the need to defend my choice out loud.  I engaged her in my mind to avoid an endless bru ha ha on the various threads of conflict a direct response might generate.  An utterly direct response to the question, "Is that all there is?"  might go like this, no that's not all there is.  At least all there is you seem to be passionate about.  I would follow that with a sample list of the things she seems to be passionate about, like complaining about the company she works for, or the bitterness of the single women she socializes with, oh yeah, and there's the Bronx where you were born, but I don't know enough about any of those things to write about them.

I only know drunks.  Their emotional roller coasters, psychological twists, heartbreaks and fabulous adventures (for the ones that manage to get off the couch at least).  Oh yeah, there's also my knowledge of baseball, basketball, football, writing, film, film production, television production, parenting, fatherhood, Wall Street, Environmental Sciences, being an Entrpeneur, fashion, Women, Comedy, and a whole hootin hollerin slew of other things.  But for this book, I chose to write about drunks.  

The second thing she didn't like was that I used my ex-wife's name.  A woman I divorced 20 years ago, who I have known since I was 12, and who is now one of my oldest and dearest friends (both she and her husband).  The character in the book was based on my current wife, but I used my ex-wife's name to protect her (the tribute to an old friend thing).  That was before I said f**k it and broke our relational anonymity in this blog post.  The bottom line boys and girls, is to write.  Write come hell or high water, rain or shine.  Write if they care, write if they don't care.  Just know they will chose side"A", or side "B".  So be prepared.  Ultimately, I reconciled the book was lodged in my craw.  Stuck there horizontally, like a giant chicken bone in my throat that had to come out, or else I was going to stop breathing and surely die.

When Van McCoy wrote the 1970's hit, "Do the hustle", he was speaking directly to me.  (In the voice of the Dos Equis beer guy) Be desperate my friends.  I don't work very often, but when I do, I'm writing.