I have this idea for a novel. Only I don’t want to write it. Because I’m not a writer. Writing seems like a lot of hard work and frankly, I’m busy eating eclairs and surfing the Internet.
On rare occasions I blog, but blogging is not writing. Typos and and poor grammar are OK in blogland, because trying too hard on a blog sounds stilted and pretentious anyway. The effort and quality in a piece of writing, from greatest to least, should be as follows: love notes, books, journals, magazines, newspapers, blogs, facebook, twitter, texting, and the picture words in The Handmaid’s Tale.
I thought I’d share the idea I have for a novel on my blog, because maybe someone out there is feeling more ambitious than I am and just needs a push in the right direction. So I started describing my idea to an imaginary person and my description sounded like this, “but don’t make it so…,” “you shouldn’t write that…,” “The character isn’t going to…” “That’s already been done; take it in this direction,” “It’s not about…” And I began to see that I care far too much about this idea to let someone screw it up. No, I’m not planning on writing this book, but I can’t let anyone else have it either.