EW

Ramblings on writing, crafting and life.

No, I am not doing a soft drink marketing reference. I’m referring to books. Good ol’ paper and board books. I spent a good portion of my evening reading blog posts, articles, facebook blurbs, tweets, etc on the recent debacle wherein Amazon pulled all MacMillan Publishing titles from its virtual shelves.  Being a complete publishing neophyte I was curious, at first, about the implications. Which lead to trying to decipher the entire idea of DRM and ebooks as a field of the industry. Needless to say, I don’t know that Ive accumulated much more than a cursory understanding of it all. I’m not even going to bother voicing my opinion on the issue, as I feel yet half informed, and doubt that anyone would benefit from my rambling incoherently… Well – any moreso than usual that is.

What prompted me to post was an offhand comment made by M, as I was bouncing thoughts and questions off him. To paraphrase him – We’ll all be reading digital books as a rule eventually, and the printed book will go the way of the horse drawn carriage.

Anyhow. I was horrified at not only the idea, but the ease with which the image seemed to trip off his tongue. No books? This is a circle of hell too twisted even for me to imagine. I’ve had a love affair with the book since I was a child. The thrill of cracking the cover open, the first slip of pages against fingertips, even the smell. Brand new,  slightly alkaline or that particular mustiness that seems to accumulate with age. Are we, as a society really going to let that go? Will I become that funky old woman with her, instead of cats, books? Will the book, as a vehicle for story, become the anachronistic equivalent of a carriage ride through Central Park?

Come on, Liz. It’s just a means of communication of the ideas contained therein. What matter if it’s pixels on a screen, or ink on paper?  As M, very logically asked me, was I saying that a printed newspaper article is more valid than one done online? My answer to which was a resounding “Of course not!”. So why then this seemingly illogical attachment to the printed book? (He’s also very good at pointing out those moments when my reasoning is less than stellar.)

I’m sure I won’t be able to articulate the entirety of how and why I love books. Not without boring all of you into a collective coma. But against the backdrop of his question, I realized a portion of my fear of a book free world. Books to me are like art. Well DUH! you say. But no. Every book I’ve read, even the bad ones, affect me.  I’d also like to believe that a book carries a bit of the author’s spirit in it. Those things live and breathe in the pages. It’s the difference between a digital rendering of one of my four year old’s splash-dab paintings, and the real thing. No scoffing. I understand there is a world of remove between a mass produced piece of media and a unique , handcrafted bit of art. But reading is experiential. And my experience informs the item. Every bent page, every dinged cover, even those I’ve worked to keep pristine. A book is the marriage of the author’s vision and voice, and my heart.

I guess I’m not ready to house my heart in plastic just yet.

And I just finished typing it at the top of a page, immediately after the word Chapter. Pause for swoon recovery. That is correct folks. I am officially on Chapter 24. I am within tripping distance of the end now. And its all good stuff. The lead up, planning, the climactic battle, and the wrap up. Pause for happy dancing.

To top off the loveliness, M has two job possibilities. Which is two more than we have had recently. One is a short term contract locally. The up side of that is it would allow us to move calmly. And have a bit stowed away to carry us through. The other is in…..wait for it… Juneau, Alaska! I suppose those of you who know me, probably are not at all surprised that I might move from Florida to Alaska. I’ve done weirder things. I have to admit, I’m privately routing for Alaska. What an adventure! And I think the short and demonic would love it. I realize there would be a major adjustment period and what have you. I realize that it’s Alaska. I realize you can’t even drive into Juneau. I realize it snows over 100 inches per year. And…I still want to go. The company sounds pretty awesome. Employee-centric and concerned. Good benefits, seems like good people. And….may I just say this again. It’s in ALASKA!!! We’ll be finding out soon. He has a meeting with the local guys tomorrow afternoon, and a phone call with the branch director tomorrow evening. Wish us luck!!

The blog is fixed! Now, while I might think this cause for a national holiday, I realize it’s impact upon others might be slightly less significant. The most amazing part of this entire “broken, more broken, upgrade and it’s still broken, ahhhh to hell with it for a few months” process is that I fixed it entirely by myself. Usually when things become this complicated I shove it onto M’s plate. Not this time. And the fix was really ridiculously simplistic. Literally a matter of clicking a new link structure choice and reloading my settings. (ugh yes…this took me months to figure out…scary I know) But, I found it myself, didn’t freeze up in the face of tech jargon overload, and I now have a fully functional blog again! Happy dancing ensues.

This turns out to be a fortuitous fix, as I am renewed in my urge to keep the blog flowing. In a real gift from the Universe kind of moment, I got an out-of-the-blue email from a facebook friend that found the blog, read it, and holy of holies – was positively affected by the reading. Wow…just wow. It was for that very reason I started doing this. The idea that there might be other people out there, trying to find their way to their own writing space. That maybe seeing someone else sharing the difficulties and the good stuff, would help them feel…not quite so alone.

I get caught up in thinking nothing I have to say here could possibly unique or brilliant enough to make a difference to anyone. I flog myself in the name of personal humility. Who am I? Why on earth would anyone care that this damned book is taking more than four years to crank out a rough draft, and my children are increasingly deserving of the title demonic horde? That’s not where the good stuff is at though, folks. The places that touch us are the ones we can feel, the ones we recognize. It’s the shared space. That’s where we can really see ourselves, and each other. And so, I am in turn inspired by a person who, for no reason other than to say thank you, saw me and recognized me. That really couldn’t have happened in a sweeter or more opportune way.

As for book status. I’m about 2/3 of the way through Chapter 23, and am thinking it will end up being 26 as opposed to 25 in total. Nearly there! So close I can taste it really. The last chapters are fully flushed, outlined and its really just a matter of getting the climactic moments on paper. Then it’s the first round of edits before sending it to my volunteer readers. On so many levels it feels surreal to type these words. To acknowledge anywhere but inside my own skull that I’m this close. But there it is.

On a closing note, all archive links and the comments currently work. Have a field day folks!