Thought-Bubbles, Sketches, and Words Yet Unwritten

In Pixar's Ratatouille, the great Peter O'Toole voiced the character of Anton Ego, a food critic who, toward the end of the movie, had this to say about his nemesis, Chef Gusteau:

"In the past, I have made no secret of my disdain for Chef Gusteau's famous motto, "Anyone can cook." But I realize, only now do I truly understand what he meant. Not everyone can become a great artist; but a great artist *can* come from *anywhere*."

When I was younger, having realized that writing was to be central to nearly every endeavor I would ever pursue, I fell into the common notion that "I should write a book."  So common, and so cliché.  In those days before the internet, I labored to get my hands on those old "How to Get Published" books that contained advice and lists upon lists of publishers.  Of course, I had no idea what to write about, and the thought became intimidating, so I put it away.

Of course, trying to extend Anton Ego's perspective into this realm is an imperfect application.  Maybe not just anyone can write a book, but today, where self-publishing in the digital age puts lie to the notion that authorship is restricted in any way, fashion, or form, the question turns to not whether anyone can write a book, but whether anyone can write a book that others might actually read and enjoy.

I still would like to write a book, but until recently, I have struggled with the form it might take.  While I'm not above the employment of embellishment to relate an experience, the experience itself must be essentially true.  I am incapable of creating a pure work of fiction, as all my imaginings are derivative.  Similarly, there is simply no topic or area of interest that so holds me, or for which I possess any singular knowledge, that would enable me to produce a unique work of non-fiction or composition.  Blogging worked for a long time, allowing for the production of short, topical utterings that for a while fulfilled my compulsion to write.  I write about things that strike my fancy in the moment, things that pass through my mind like little thought-bubbles that entertain and amuse me, things that I feel need to be said and thus incumbent for me to say them.

It wasn't until I began to read Washington Irving's The Sketch Book of Geoffrey Crayon, Gent., in which his stories of "Rip Van Winkle" and "The Legend of Sleepy Hollow" appear, that a possible framework presented itself.  From what I've read, compilations of essays are not looked upon favorably by publishers, unless thematic or memoirs of a particular bent.  I don't know that I care so much about publishers.  But the concept of sketches appeals to me, and with the right organization and flavor, maybe this fleeting notion of legitimate authorship might not be so fleeting.  I cannot help but be encouraged, and even stimulated, by this quote from Irving at the end of the sketch called "The Christmas Dinner":

"Methinks I hear the questions asked by my graver readers:  'To what purpose is all this - how is the world to be made wiser by this talk?'  Alas! Is there not wisdom enough extant for the instruction of the world?  And if not, are there not thousands of abler pens laboring for its improvement? - It is so much pleasanter to please than to instruct - to play the companion rather than the preceptor.

What, after all, is the mite of wisdom that I could throw into the mass of knowledge; or how am I sure that my sagest deductions may be safe guides for the opinions of others?  But in writing to amuse, if I fail, the only evil is in my own disappointment.  If, however, I can by any lucky chance, in these days of evil, rub out one wrinkle from the brow of care, or beguile the heavy heart of one moment of sorrow; if I can now and then penetrate through the gathering film of misanthropy, prompt a benevolent view of human nature, and make my reader more in good humor with his fellow-beings and himself, surely, surely, I shall not then have written entirely in vain."

Maybe there's hope for me yet, this notion of writing a book, or at least compiling one.  In the meantime, I will simply enjoy the exercise, and entertain myself in blowing thought-bubbles and writing sketches.  And if anyone happens to read and enjoy them as well, then "surely, surely, I shall not then have written entirely in vain."