Those of you who are reading this may know that I write on occasion. Though not often
as of late, as the date of the last post will tell you. For a while now I have toyed with the idea of writing a book. Yes, a real one. Not just so I can waltz into my ten year high school reunion and, when asked what I’ve been doing, say “Ohhhhh, not much. I’m working on my second book.”
If you ever looked into getting a book published, then you know there is more to it than sending in a bunch of typed out pages. If you’ve never looked into it, just trust me here. Most publishers won’t even give you the time of day unless there’s a bona fide literary agent talking you up to them. Yeah, you’ve gotta find someone who ‘knows a guy.’ That’s not altogether easy in itself. Different literary agencies have different requirements about how to go about soliciting yourself to them. Some say actual mail only while others rely solely on email queries. And that email can’t just say “Hey, I wrote a book. Will you try and get somebody to make it into a real book?” You have to write a query letter. There is no set form on this kind of thing, so if you’re doing it wrong you have no way of knowing. It’s all kinds of fun.
So a few days ago I sent my jaunty query letter and a self-addressed stamped envelope
(remember those?) to my first choice literary agency which is located on Madison
Avenue in New York. Swanky, I know. I am already prepared to be turned down. It’s
ok. I know it happens.
So I’m sure you are wondering just what precisely my book is about. Well, of all the
strange things that I observe and that happen to me in day to day life the one thing that has been pretty much a constant in the last four years or so has been...pregnancy. Yeah, I know, not everyone wants a book about pregnancy, but pregnant women do. Especially my kind of pregnancy book, if I do say so myself.
I have perused many a pregnancy book in the last few years and I don’t think any of
them have been precisely my style. The closest was The Girlfriend’s Guide to Pregnancy by Vicki Iovine. Much closer than What to Expect When You’re Expecting. The gold standard for many a year, What to Expect has recently been revamped. The cover no longer displays a timid, mousy woman in a rocking chair about to have an anxiety attack in a Mom ‘do and outdated housedress. Now it’s a woman in a shoulder-length haircut wearing modern day maternity clothes and actually smiling. And she’s standing. I guess it’s considered ok for pregnant women to stand now.
Usually there are only two categories for pregnancy books and that is one that is purely informational and one that is more of a individual account of pregnancy. Mine is both with my own brand of rapier wit sprinkled liberally throughout. I also have made certain to include a disclaimer saying I am not now, nor have I ever been a doctor so if your pregnancy doesn’t go how I say then you can’t sue me. Ha! I should just go ahead and market it to include a grain of salt.
I know it seems like I would write something more general that everyone can enjoy, but to be honest all this baby stuff has taken over life as I know it. It’s hard to get around it. I am trying, though.
What would a non-pregnancy book from me include, I wonder? Probably a good
bit about food and burgeoning fascination with those who call themselves ‘foodies.’
Perhaps the state of modeling standards, which would be quite slim. Nothing at
all related to politics. I’m fairly non-partisan until somebody says something that
I like. Maybe people I’d like to see on Dancing With the Stars. I don’t know.
I would write fiction, but the truth is just too good.