The Near Enemy

I just finished reading The Cruelest Month by Louise Penny. Loved it, want to have written it, am jealous of how good it is (which I find particularly interesting since one of the themes running through it is jealousy and how destructive it is). It is a real book - meaning not just a mystery novel, but one with interwoven themes, characters who are real, and a thought-provoking story.

I would love to write a book like it, and I don't think I can. I know I need to write the book I can write. But this is precisely what has stopped me from writing. My book is pitifully simplistic in comparison. Actually, my book sucks. I don't say that out of false modesty. It truly sucks.

But I think I have to write it anyway. Last year when I traveled to Madison, I met the adopted daughter of one of my information sources. She has an interesting name (sorry, not sharing - you'll have to read the book) and I asked her mom if it was OK to name a character after the daughter. Mom said yes, but she wouldn't tell her daughter until the book comes out. Mom didn't say this, but daughter has had enough disappointment and false hope in her life.

This weekend while I was in Madison I had dinner with both of them; daughter asked me if I'm going to use her name in it (and if the book will be sold in Madison). Yikes. It's not OK to let children down.

One line in particular from The Cruelest Month sticks with me: "The near enemy. It isn't a person is it? It's ourselves." I think I need to write the book, even if it sucks. Maybe precisely because it sucks.