Does it scare you when you think?
I'm trying to understand how the world would go if certain people made certain decisions, if the fight to preserve our country would end in a fight to destroy lives.
It's an exploration of an idea. What if?
There's a line you should never cross. But how far will you go to protect your family?
Partially going off Shakespeare's line, "...lend me your ears," The Book is about looking for the immigrants, about the eyes, the ears, the hands searching them out. It's an exploration of moral insanity and the bond between family, countrymen. It's about a foster kid, his depression, his ideas, his fears. It's about friendship and honesty and architecture students and New York in the future. It's about a lot of things I love and am afraid of. It's about forgiveness.
The story arc is hard to explain–I'm still coming up with it. The characters, even more so. But I love them.
I'm still doing a lot of research for it it. Illegal immigration, American ideals, what it takes to be a foster parent, lots and lots of statistics, lots of train times.
I can't promise this book will be pretty, clean, or kind. Ideas become twisted, people become hard, lies are told. But it will be honest. I will tell the truth plainly, simply, in the best way I know how.
Everyone is listening.
Music runs through this story–jazz is in its blood, Other Lives can sometimes be its anthem, Frank Sinatra's quoted. There are a lot of hidden references to quite a few of my favorite artists/songs/albums (if you didn't know, I'm obsessed with music).
Writing about something I don't have firsthand experience in is hard–people tell me I shouldn't write about this because I couldn't possibly understand it. But I tend to like to do and understand things people tell me I can't. Sorry, guys.
I'm not afraid of being honest. I am afraid of sharing this story with people–what the heck will they think?–but I should probably get over that.
Basically, I love this story. So much. And believe me when I tell you, I'm freaking excited about this thing.
Here's the thing: I have a rule not to share too much of my writing. As F. Scott Fitzgerald said, "I think it’s a pretty good rule not to tell what a thing is about until it’s finished. If you do you always seem to lose some of it. It never quite belongs to you so much again."
No one has ever read this story and no one knows what it's really about–I'm known for constantly being vague about my writing whenever I have the chance. This book isn't finished yet and I want to keep on writing it for myself, in a way that I would want to read it.
So, for now, I'm not letting anyone read it.