DO WORDS GET STAGE FRIGHT?

While writing the Jesters Incognito, I hadn’t really taken the time to consider the impact my book being for sale would have on me.  It’s probably a good thing, too, because I could have easily let paranoia-induced worry seep into my skull, impeding my finishing the Jesters altogether.

What’s there to be worried about?  Would people like it?  Would they get it?  Is my writing so ‘green’ that people would toss it aside and roll their eyes at every mention of the book hence forward?

Negative forecasting aside, the publishing process couldn’t haven’t gone any smoother.  Yet every time I hear that another person has bought the book, my stomach flutters.  I think – HOLY.  They actually bought the book.  They’ve deemed my book worthy of their time!

NOTE: I only measure the worth of things in terms of time nowadays.  Money comes and goes, rises and falls, and only signifies conceptual worth, as opposed to human value.  Besides, with every venture we decide to spend our time on, we’re losing important life spent on other things and thus nearing death; meaning time isn’t money, time is life!  And money is just colorful paper and digits in a bank account.  I don’t know about you, but if I feel I’ve wasted my time on something not worthwhile, I’m left feeling beleaguered.

So, (big breath, back on topic), I imagine the reader cracking the book open and venturing forth with anticipation of an adventurous literary ride, one that links my brain to theirs and hopefully sparks a favorable imaginative union, I wonder if the words on the page are as nervous as I am.  I imagine the sentences quivering between the pages as they are being shipped across the conintent – across the world, even, with books now in Japan, New Zealand, and England.  The darkness inside their boxes would only add to the intensity of their unveiling, and the capital letters, team leaders, would give pep talks to the rest of the sentences, reassuring them that they are in the right order, and that their combined meaning gives purpose to the entirety of the novel.  Do the words say things to one another like “break a leg”?  Or do they practice their phonetic sound in preparation for their big debuts, gurgling water and wearing scarves around their tiny typographic necks?

It’s a curious image, indeed.  Fanciful, and may be worth me turning into a cartoon.

But I don’t think it’s the case.  My many words are confident they’re worth your time, as am I. [gulp]