grace grits and gardening

ramblings from an arkansas farm girl

How hard is it to write a book? Let me count the ways.

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writing a book

Forgive me while I complain for a moment. The truth is, writing a book is difficult under the most ideal circumstances, when the words are flowing and the light is faultless both inside and out, when I’m swimming in the deep end of creative waters. BUT. Writing a book is impossible when Japanese beetles are chomping away on my rose bushes.

Yesterday, I planned out the whole day—an entire luscious day with nothing to do but work on the book I’m writing. But you know the saying. The best laid plans of mice and men and writers. Somehow, even though I am “one with my garden”, piddling around in it at least daily, often twice a day, even so, yesterday morning completely by chance I noticed Japanese beetles swarming my roses like something straight from the Old Testament.

The Book of Exodus, to be specific.
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A writer’s (nano) descent into madness.

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descent into madnessYesterday, I open the mailbox to discover a neat, tight envelope sealed on the end rather than the middle (which for whatever reason, appeals to me), and inside, an unexpected book. Not really a book-book, more of a chap-book, larger than pocket-sized but compact and slender and flawless. And the matte cover is fashioned from heavy, charcoal-colored card stock (or a level up from card stock), certainly more substantial than a flimsy pamphlet or typical paperback cover.

Intriguing. Everything about it, including the minimalistic design, an atomic swirl printed in silver with an “N” in the center where the nucleus of everything lives. At the one o’clock position, a simple “10”. Also shiny and silver.

I trace the design with my index finger. I channel long lost junior high science class. I press the silver “N” in case it’s THE button unlocking Narnia for writers.

Or a port key.

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