Wednesday, September 29, 2010

Steal this post

I just read a blurb in a magazine about a book chronicling the myriad movements for secession throughout the US. It’s a topic I’m interested in (there are certain states we could really live without, aren’t here?) but the review was luke-warm on the execution. I know myself well enough to know that I won’t make it through a whole book on any topic if it isn’t well-written (case in point: this book about how in the world it was possible for the Cubs to go almost 100 years without winning the World Series -- a topic I am, or was *exTREMly* interested in -- that I couldn’t get finish because of mediocre writing and roughly one typo per page). If I ever write a book, it may not be the Great American Novel, but I’ll at least run spell check on it.

And yet, I feel compelled to write a book. I have this sense that I need to write a book. At some point. Maybe before I turn 40? I could do that, with both kids in school. But about what? And why?

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