The Cart Before the Horse

Your comments on my "I'm writing a book" post made me very happy.  And if you've been reading Knitters-Knitters for any length of time at all, you know I don't do happy very often.  I do Cautiously Optimistic.  I do Guarded Contentment.  I've been known to do Bittersweet Whimsy.  But big-smile happy is rarely in my repertoire. 

I asked LB why kind comments had the ability to make me happy, and he pointed out that there really is no greater compliment than someone telling you that as much as they have been privy to what's been going through your head over the past five years, they actually want to read more of it.

Polli on Facebook wrote: I have been WAITING for this!  Thank G-d!  And I don't think dipping into to past-tense genius is cheating.  No ma'am, I do not.

There will indeed be incidents that you'll recognize from my blog and maybe the odd paragraph or two will remain unchanged, but that's unavoidable.  Other than getting married, divorced and remarried in less than two years, having a one-armed baby, setting out to adopt a baby and despite the rarity of such an amputation, finding one who has the exact same limb loss as my first born, and then, finally, having a child with autism... very little of interest has happened to me.  I only have so many experiences to go on.

Alice C wrote: So - let me get this right - I am to make a loud noise at increasingly frequent intervals until you deliver the copy? Yes? And if you fail to do so on time it is my fault?

My dearest Alice.  As you know, I'm mostly Jewish and the part that isn't Jewish is Catholic.  My capacity for guilt is astounding, and if I wuss out I'll blame myself for years before I got around to blaming my bloggy pals.  However, it is entirely your fault that I am on Twitter.  In fact, my Twitter tag line (my Twitter ID is @baskandwallow) is "Alice told me to come."

Barbara wrote: I'm glad I waited to read this post: I was right: it contained FANTASTIC news! In lieu of blogging you could photograph piles of printouts for us instead of beautiful knitwear. We'll even heart those pictures on Ravelry if it helps you to keep working....

I expect that the more I write, the more I'll knit.  I get much more done when I'm busy, and when I'm not posting about new knit items you can be fairly sure I'm napping more than is healthy.  And as for Ravelry hearts?  They feed my soul and the knitting validation bleeds into other areas of my life.  In my opinion, it's a failing on the part of Ravelry that there's no way to set up a notification system for every time someone gives you a heart.

Anna and others who promised to nudge me: thank you, and I'm counting on it.

At this point, Perlmans may want to avert their eyes or at the very least, stop eating if you happen to be eating:

Mom, I would like to thank you (and OFD, posthumously) for never once asking me over the past eighteen years, as I changed the diapers on three different children while simultaneously dandling hand puppets and roasting a chicken, when I was going to start writing again.  Or worse yet (and some people have actually said this to me)  "I know you have a blog, but when do you think you'll write again for real?"

LB: if you were a chatty sort of fellow who spoke off the top of his head instead of quietly mulling over ideas for months, your proclamations wouldn't carry nearly as much weight as they do.  But that night when you said, "I think you should take some of your blog entries and your experiences with Olive, and compile them into a book.  Then you should write an outline and print out a few sample chapters and mail them to Seth R. to see if he thinks it's suitable for Blackbird Press," I could almost hear the thunderclap in the distance.  The next evening when you told me you'd already called him in your self-appointed role as my agent, I was not surprised.

Like most people who decide to write a book, I'm already fantasizing about the fun parts -- the dedication page and acknowledgements section.  One thing I know: when I get to the thank-you's, my first will be to the patient and intrepid one-hundred and fifty-six of you.

Comments

[Lo]

Not to worry, Jen. Mom and OFD spent lots of time asking the rest of us why you weren't Really Writing

[Lynn]

Oh my gosh you are really gonna write a book? Wow that is the best news I have had in a long, long time. I love your writing. I must have missed that post about the writing. But, I know now.YES!!! Woohoo!

[Debbie]

You have no idea how excited I am about this! It makes me Happy too :)

[Carys]

Oh, Jen, I'm so excited for you! EEEEEEEEEE! *happydance* *sparkles*

xoxo

Carys

[Paula]

I want to cheer, applaud, jump up and down, not just for myself but for all the folks I know who read your blog and never comment. You have many devoted fans. I can say this cause I'm a Sullivan.

[Amelia]

I am happy that you are happy. Even your list of things beside which you haven't done anything interesting makes me happy. Can't wait to read it, acknowledgements page and all.

[ssheers]

Yay!

[kmkat]

As I was typing @baskandwallow into the Twitter search box, it occurred to me you might have been being ironic. Thank goodness not! Now I follow you, and Twitter has been my lifeline whilst suffering from the URI crud my sweetie shared with me. Now I have another wonderful tweep to follow!

[Ingrid]

The book will be a huge success - I've found reading about your life VERY interesting.

[Tamara]

I am tears-in-my-eyes happy for you. I really am. This is terrific.

[Sara]

I am thrilled you are writing a book. Your prose is considered, luminous and thought provoking. You tell it like it is but that includes the good which is sometimes very sweet and good indeed (especially your sense of family) as well as the bad and the ugly and somehow you make everything fit into place. Believe me, your blog is 'real' writing too. Often moving, always interesting. I LOVE your writing. So glad you will be fully appreciated by people yet to discover your blog. Good luck with the writing. Enjoy it!