I wrote a book, or the least creative title ever

Remember in middle school and high school when the guidance counselor made you take one of those personality quizzes that supposedly identified where your career interests may lie?  Answer questions one way and you were destined for a career in mathematics or engineering.  Answer questions another way and you should explore social sciences.  Answer questions yet another way and you should look into medicine, or law, or psychology, so the test said.  My results routinely told me that I should go into the arts – a conclusion I utterly rejected because my conceptualization of art didn’t stretch much beyond art class, and to be frank, I could not and still cannot draw worth a damn.  (Seriously, the first time I went down the hallway that contained the art room and wood shop in Norwalk High School was as a substitute teacher.  Four years as a student and I didn’t go down that hall one time.)

Despite what the test said, I knew then that I was obviously destined for the life of a historian.  I wasn’t sure what that entailed exactly, but the test was clearly wrong.  Art was out of the question.  Of course, sixteen-year-old me didn’t consider all the other forms that art can take – music, acting, and, obviously, writing – mostly because sixteen-year-old me was an idiot.

Looking back, I’ve always been a writer.  I wrote my first book (I mean the first book not assigned by a teacher) in fifth grade.  The book featured Detective Dominike (because alliteration is awesome), an Aerosmith-loving, free-lancing detective who somehow made a career out of solving Civil War-related crimes.  In this particular story, our hero Detective Dominike is summoned by the descendants of none other than General William Tecumseh Sherman.  Apparently, some dastardly individual had stolen several family heirlooms related to the good general, and Detective Dominike was just the person to track down the missing artifacts.

I don’t remember the details of the story, captivating as they surely were, but I seem to remember that the pissed-off descendants of a Confederate soldier had stole the artifacts, presumably because Sherman burned their house to the ground or something.  Of course, our stalwart detective found the perpetrators, recovered the artifacts, and celebrated by rocking out to “Janie’s Got a Gun.”

I spent the entirety of 5th grade writing this well-loved tale.  I even did the illustrations (poorly), had the book bound (spiral), and I think read it aloud to my classmates because if you want to be cool in 5th grade, you should totally read your Civil War-themed detective story aloud to your classmates….Right?

In any case, I’ve continued to write – sometimes for work, sometimes for fun, but I’m happy to say that I recently completed a life-long(ish) goal.

I wrote a book.

Like a real book.

With chapters and everything.

I’ve long wanted to write a book – have started several (all of them future best-sellers), and never made it past the opening third of any story.  But I finished this one.  And I have to say writing this book is unquestionably the most satisfyingly creative thing I’ve done in at least five years.  I think the last time I was this proud of something I wrote was when, after reading my short script about an enslaved woman, the actress playing the part told me that I “have the soul of an old black woman living inside me.”

Who knew, right?  (That’s a real quote – there were witnesses).

I started this project with a singular goal – to see if I could do it.  I had no intention of publishing it, but now that it’s complete I’m exploring some options.  I have no illusions that this will make me the next J.K. Rowling.  In fact, I’m not entirely sure anyone not related to me by blood or marriage will want to read it.

The point, however, is that it exists.  The characters exist because I gave them life.  The story exists because I created it.  The message exists because I honed it.  And even if those characters, that story, that message never leave the Word document saved on my laptop, I will still find great happiness in knowing they exist there.

I’m not making this proclamation to rejuvenate this blog, because I’m basically 0-for-Life on those pronouncements.  I post for this simple reason – to see if I can start a bidding war for the movie rights.

Oh, and to say that if anyone is interested in reading it AND OFFERING CONSTRUCTIVE FEEDBACK, please let me know.  I’m not yet ready to share it with those who just want to read it.  I’ll do that when I have a final draft.  But, if you want to help me move it from the first draft to a second, let me know.

And, if you are interested in the adventures of Detective Dominike, too bad.  I never wrote the sequel.  Clearly, my class was not impressed.