Really? What’s it about?

As a new author, this is the main question I hear when I tell people I wrote a book, and I always feel like my answer is never good enough. I tell people the short and sweet version, and either thier eyes light up, or they glaze over completely. Still others look at me as if I were running my fingernails down a chalkboard, and that includes a few of my own family members. I am not sure there is any middle ground here. As writers, we ask ourselves this question throughout the entire process, from the first word to the final editing, from the individual puzzle pieces to the big picture.

No one recommends a book that is just okay, and I am no exception. I have read enough books to fill a large shelf in a small library, and even when I recommend a book to someone, I still have trouble answering the big question. I do think it is easier to answer the question on someone else’s book rather than my own. Perhaps it is the emotional attachment that makes it hard to describe, maybe it is because I have put so much work into my own book, but either way, I always feel that there is no easy answer. I have found that my best description has come from someone else’s words.

It is like Elizabeth Guizzetti said in her blog about week three, she had 10,000 “Congrats!” and one raving fan. I hope that I have even half of those numbers, because if I do, that means I have found the right group of words that at least attempts to explain in a few sentences what took me thirty-five chapters to answer.

So what is it about? In the end, I believe there is no one single right answer, it is going to be different for everyone. In the end, it is an opinion, no two are the same, each is as unique as snowflakes.

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