Im tempted to call Songs and Letters an autobiographical novel in poetry and prose, but since it is an unplanned work in progress, that might be a bit premature. I am also tempted to refer to it as my Odyssey or Leaves of Grass, but writers who say things like that are usually laughed at and brushed aside, so I wont. What I will say, though, is that this is, or these will be, my Songs and Letters. Its meaningless, but at least I will be on solid ground.

Like two of my previous books, One Hand Clapping and No Time to Cut My Hair, this work will be presented in installments as soon as each is written, keeping me but half a step ahead of the reader and, in some cases, Im sure, half a step behind. Since I write at a naturally quick pace, I expect Songs and Letters to be a restless, steadily expanding work. And since I have no idea where the book will lead or when it will end, I expect it to be a journey every bit as harrowing, challenging, and gratifying as Life itself. Come to think of it, I would be disappointed if it were anything less.

That said, as Songs and Letters grows and takes on a life of its own, I also encourage you to open the book at random and see if its pages do not speak to the moment, and help you remember something beautiful, poetic, and inspiring about yourself that you had forgotten or set aside in a time of difficulty or despair. It might sound like a lot to ask of a book, but the way I see it, if I had lesser expectations, I shouldnt write it or expect it to be read at all.

edit @ 28 Oct 2007 23:14:22 by หมึกทะเล