The Last Carnival
Sundown, sundown, they're taking all the tents down. Where have you gone, my darling Billy?
Through the years there have been a lot of people who've come to me at book signings and announced that before they die, they are going to write a book. I try to be encouraging, but a lot of times, I just chuckle to myself and think, 'Good luck.'
Not that I think I am above anyone, but it is an agonizing process and the off-the-cuff thought that you can do it, makes me somewhat doubtful. In fact, the process is so difficult that there are at least ten or fifteen times along the way when you really, really, really want to quit. It's like being on a treadmill and saying that you're going to do ten miles - three miles into it, you start saying - "That's good enough."
Fortunately for me, I work with a publishing house - Sterlinghouse out of Pittsburgh - where just enough isn't enough. I can hear Cindy Sterling saying, 'Keep running, you're getting there.' And when I get to ten miles - she makes me do 12.
I finished the third edit on the book yesterday and packed it up in a box and shipped it off. It's Sterlinghouse's turn to make it even better - I dare you!
Suffice to say it is a very different book than the first shot at it. Know that what I had in mind at the start was what I think I finally delivered, but I didn't do it alone - at all - a publishing house full of people hid the key to the treadmill until I was done.
And I'm still not done...I will read it a few more times, and in the end, I will be so disgusted with it, convincing myself that it isn't any good, until the reader steps forward to tell me that it touched them somehow. And that will be enough.
But with this work there may be divine influence. People are fond of telling me there are no coincidences, right?
On the day of Jeff's funeral, I played a song as I drove away from the cemetary - Bruce's Last Carnival, a song he wrote about the passing of his bandmate Danny Federici. Through thirteen months, I never listened to the song again.
But I did load my I-pod, remember - 2,000 plus songs.
I was reading the last chapter for the tenth time to make sure there weren't any mistakes.
The I-pod went quiet as the Seger song ended. Was the book good enough? Did I totally capture Jeff's spirit? Would the new ending hammer home all I needed to say? Would the most important thing I'd ever written hit the mark for years and years to come?
The Last Carnival played.
We'll be riding the train without you tonight, the train that keeps on movin', its black smoke scorching the evening sky, a million stars shining above us like every soul living and dead has been gathered together by a God to sing a hymn...
No coincidences.
Write a book.
I dare you.
Through the years there have been a lot of people who've come to me at book signings and announced that before they die, they are going to write a book. I try to be encouraging, but a lot of times, I just chuckle to myself and think, 'Good luck.'
Not that I think I am above anyone, but it is an agonizing process and the off-the-cuff thought that you can do it, makes me somewhat doubtful. In fact, the process is so difficult that there are at least ten or fifteen times along the way when you really, really, really want to quit. It's like being on a treadmill and saying that you're going to do ten miles - three miles into it, you start saying - "That's good enough."
Fortunately for me, I work with a publishing house - Sterlinghouse out of Pittsburgh - where just enough isn't enough. I can hear Cindy Sterling saying, 'Keep running, you're getting there.' And when I get to ten miles - she makes me do 12.
I finished the third edit on the book yesterday and packed it up in a box and shipped it off. It's Sterlinghouse's turn to make it even better - I dare you!
Suffice to say it is a very different book than the first shot at it. Know that what I had in mind at the start was what I think I finally delivered, but I didn't do it alone - at all - a publishing house full of people hid the key to the treadmill until I was done.
And I'm still not done...I will read it a few more times, and in the end, I will be so disgusted with it, convincing myself that it isn't any good, until the reader steps forward to tell me that it touched them somehow. And that will be enough.
But with this work there may be divine influence. People are fond of telling me there are no coincidences, right?
On the day of Jeff's funeral, I played a song as I drove away from the cemetary - Bruce's Last Carnival, a song he wrote about the passing of his bandmate Danny Federici. Through thirteen months, I never listened to the song again.
But I did load my I-pod, remember - 2,000 plus songs.
I was reading the last chapter for the tenth time to make sure there weren't any mistakes.
The I-pod went quiet as the Seger song ended. Was the book good enough? Did I totally capture Jeff's spirit? Would the new ending hammer home all I needed to say? Would the most important thing I'd ever written hit the mark for years and years to come?
The Last Carnival played.
We'll be riding the train without you tonight, the train that keeps on movin', its black smoke scorching the evening sky, a million stars shining above us like every soul living and dead has been gathered together by a God to sing a hymn...
No coincidences.
Write a book.
I dare you.
Comments
You succeeded in a task that not many people can even conceive. It's amazing.