The book in my mind

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?!)

Kate Messner