The Book in my Mind: A Poem for Writers

I'm working on a new novel right now,  and while this stage in the writing process always feels exciting and full of possibility, I also have mixed emotions when I finally begin writing a book that's been living in my mind for months.

I think it's because the book that I imagined all those months was so brilliant and amazing. So perfect. And when I start writing, that vision has to mend ways with the writer I am today, flaws and all.

 

The Book in My Mind

The book in my mind
Is in excellent taste,
Original, thoughtful
And perfectly paced.

Its language is vivid
Its theme clear and deep
Its emotions are poignant
It'll make readers weep.

This book in my head
Is exquisite. It's stellar.
It'll win big awards.
It'll be a best seller.

I just need to write it.
But that's what gets tricky.
In my mind it was brilliant
On paper it's…icky.

The verbs are all tired.
The nouns are all vague.
I think I've come down
With a writerly plague.

The book in my head
Wasn't sickly this way.
It sparkled and glowed
Like a bright spring bouquet.

This book that I'm writing
Smells more like manure.
Where, oh where is my dream-book?
It had such allure!

But I'll keep on writing
Though I feel like a fraud
Though my book is inelegant,
Clunky, and flawed.

Because the trouble with dream books
Is nobody can read 'em.
And that in itself
Brings a writer some freedom.

While the book in my mind
May have had more appeal.
This book on my page
Is imperfect…and real.

(And besides, that's what revision is for, right?!)

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