Writing a book could be the trip of a life time, the one that makes you dig out some of the most secluded parts of your persona, only to feed your characters and your story.
There’s an absolute sense of completeness, when you finally outline every single passage and you get able to describe your story from the beginning to the end.
It’s such a wonderful sensation.
Until you realize that the book that should have lasted 200 pages is actually closer to 2000 – and you haven’t reached the half of the outline, yet.
It’s even worst when your editor knocks at your door – or you pick him up at the airport – and asks to read your masterpiece, that you since long claimed to be finished.
It’s nothing like a writer’s block, though.
“The problem, if anything, was precisely the opposite. I had too much to write: too many fine and miserable buildings to construct and streets to name and clock towers to set chiming, too many characters to raise up from the dirt like flowers whose petals I peeled down to the intricate frail organs within, too many terrible genetic and fiduciary secrets to dig up and bury and dig up again, too many divorces to grant, heirs to disinherit, trysts to arrange, letters to misdirect into evil hands, innocent children to slay with rheumatic fever, women to leave unfulfilled and hopeless, men to drive to adultery and theft, fires to ignite at the hearts of ancient houses.”
from ‘Wonder Boys’ by Michael Chabon
That’s pretty much what happens to Tripp.
Well, it’s quite understandable that, after seven years waiting, his publisher is getting a bit impatient and Tripp is under a reasonable stress.
Though the situation is not remotely as easy as it looks. Starting with his wife leaving him – as clarified by the note left in the kitchen – and continuing with that weird student, extremely talented writer and movie maniac.
From there, we get directly to a trip out of town, with a blind dead dog and a tuba in the truck, heading to a Passover meal where anything could happen.
If that’s not enough, add a Marilyn Monroe’s jacket, which leads straight to a Joe DiMaggio baseball bat.
Seriously. You know when you’re just about doing something a bit out of line and you ask yourself “what’s the worst that could happen?”
Well, you have no idea.
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