What even is a book?

magical transport devices

What is a book, even?

I think about this when I try to figure out what my job is. How can I make a book if I don’t know what it is?

Sometimes I run across people who say they want to write a book, but then they don’t seem to actually want to write the book. They want a book with their name on the cover. But they aren’t quite as interested in the words that go inside—not interested enough to actually do the work of writing it.

In college, my theater professor, Todd Wronski, presented us with a thought experiment.¹ Imagine there is a sculptor, Sculptor A. Sculptor A is passionate about sculpture. S.A. thinks about sculpture all the time. One day, S.A. gets an idea for a new sculpture. S.A. decides to sculpt out of clay, glass, and wood. S.A. affixes pointy parts to indicate the barbs of society, colors to represent joy, a feather to connect to nature, glass to represent the transparency of those around us. It takes S.A. weeks to complete the sculpture, and the creation of it is a real journey into S.A.’s inner psyche and emotions. In the end, it is everything S.A. imagined it would be. S.A. calls the sculpture “Yearning.” It’s their best work. It looks like this:

The levels I go through not to use AI in this newsletter.

Now let’s imagine another sculptor. Sculptor B. S.B. likes sculpting ok. It’s pretty cool. It gets a lot of attention and praise when S.B. says, “Oh, me? I’m a sculptor.” It’s about time for S.B. to create some new work, so S.B. gathers materials. “I’ll make this colorful because people like that. Here, let me stick in some pokey bits. It probably needs something else. Feathers are hot right now. I’ll add this bottle. Done. Oh wait, crap, I should name it something. I’ll call it…Yearning. That sounds artful enough.” A good day’s work. S.B. posts a photo of the sculpture on Instagram and goes to eat a hamburger. It looks like this:

So the question is: are the sculptures any different from each other?

In terms of theater, it’s about the difference between an actor who is going through certain motions because they’re pretty sure that’s what the character would do, and an actor who is going through those same movements but is truly embodying the character. For a book, it’s the difference between something written from an author’s heart—one they really put themselves into—and one written by a robot.

There is a difference.

I want the sculpture that Sculptor A made. The one with feeling in it. The one with heart and emotion and craft. Not only that, but I want to be Sculptor A (but for books). I want my books to transport. I want to transfer emotion. I want the books I write to be good.

A definition I’ve been working with is: A book is something that transports a reader.

An author uses imagination and time to transfer, as best they can, their thoughts, ideas, and emotions into the book. Then, a reader reads the book, and is transported via the words or images into a world the author created.

I’d like to put forth, then, that a book is only a book when it transports a reader. (Not all readers, a reader.) I don’t care if it’s fiction, a cookbook, history, or a field guide to apples. If a reader can get sucked in, then it’s a book.

Believe me when I tell you that Practical Pomology is transporting.

So, if a book is a transporting device, then I need to be transported when I’m writing it. A book that’s written while distracted or with AI isn’t going to work. I need to get to the deep place of the book first, and then stay there long enough to figure out how to bring readers there.

It’s a long, slow process. But it’s what the job is.

In this time where we can so often see people waving around their finished books, we can start to think that that’s what we want – a book with our name on it to post about. A book-shaped thing to display.

But then we are Sculptor B.

In Douglas Coupland’s Shampoo Planet (published in 1992), a character imagines that in the future, we will have to pay a boredom tax, because being bored will be a luxury: “...every time you rent a video or need a bikini wax, you’ll have to pay a surcharge for the luxury of boredom.” I’ll pay the boredom tax. It’s worth it for the freedom of a bored mind. The tax in this case is that I’m slightly out of touch. I might not respond quite so promptly. I’m not looking at the feed. I’m not up to date on all the news. I’m in a different place.

I know I’m in the right place in my writing if I make myself laugh. I’m in the right place if inspiration strikes. If I’m not getting either of those, then it’s time to pull further away from the internet, go on a walk or an artist date, consciously slow way down.

And yes, there is some magic that occurs when you make a book book-shaped. There is a promise in that shape, that it will take you somewhere. But it’s the content that fulfills the bulk of that promise. That’s why ebooks and audiobooks count as books. So I do understand if you are dreaming of a book-shaped thing with your name on the cover. You have been the recipient of that magic, and you want to know how it feels to be on the other side.

Or, what do I know? Maybe a book is just a notepad.

Thoughts and Links

• We had another great round of Fail Better Club in March. If you want to have me read your messy manuscript and tell you how you can fix it, become a paying subscriber before the next Fail Better Club session in July.

• If you are someone who likes writing prompts, you’ll like this (you’ll probably like it even if you are not such a person).

• This article about Esprit clothing really took me back to those outfits I coveted as a fifth grader.

• Is it a to-do list, or am I just desire hoarding?

• If I describe Fallen Leaves to you as a rom com that is like the soup made of David Lynch and the final grocery store scene in White Noise, with a sprinkling of Repo Man on top, will it make you want to watch it?

• Two television shows we’re enjoying: Ludwig (like Murder, She Wrote, but British, and with a puzzle-maker instead of a novelist), and Fisk, which is big-hearted and funny.

• I made Julia Turshen’s baked ziti-ish (Tuesday 4/1 in the linked post) and it was simple and quick and felt fancy somehow.

Books I read recently and loved

Disclosure: book links in this newsletter are affiliate links to Bookshop.org, a site which supports independent bookshops.

• I will admit I don’t always love bicycling, but I do love Ride Beside Me by Lucy Knisely.

• Victorian Psycho by Virginia Feito (it’s a book for grownups) was at times a bit too gory/grisly for me, but ultimately it’s a hilarious delight. Fair warning: the cover glows in the dark. Scared the bejeepers out of me, when there was something glowing under the bed where I’d tossed it.

• Finally! Everyone please go preorder There’s Something Odd About the Babysitter by Elayne Crain, illustrated by John Ledda. If you are a fan of animals stacking up and throwing on a trench coat, you’ll like this. If you are a fan of slyly naughty children who confound babysitters, you will like this one. Also a must for all of the raccoon fans out there. Coming to your bookshelf June 3.

1. I’m recreating this as best as I can remember it, and also I’ve updated some elements. There was no social media when I was in college.