Writing a book is a lot like poetry...

...either you can do it, or you can't.

How do I explain it?

I've been editing my work. I've had three technical editors edit my work. I've been editing other people's work. And all I can say is this-- either you can write a book or you can't.

It isn't about writing a chapter, it's about writing a book built, one at a time but altogether, out of chapters. There is a certain way you need to start it, to capture the reader, to share that vision. You have to know when to say something, how to say it, and how to leave it alone.

You either have a sense of flow, of timing, of rhythm and know when you should introduce a concept, when you should finish one, and when there is a concept that simply cannot be left behind. There is a certain symetry that must be maintained throughout. And trying to teach someone else how to do it is rough. Trying to just explain it is rough.

You start with an idea. You start with a concept of the book you'd want to read.

Then you flesh it out, building up the details that you'd want to see, you'd want to learn, that you'd be willing to pay for and go back to as a reference time and again.

Then while trying to write eight hundred pages of poetry, you begin fighting. Fighting for the time to do it right. To make changes, to do what is necessary to keep your original vision. It was right the first time, it is right now. No matter what the editors say. They care about arbitrary things that actually have nothing to do with the contents of the book, the accuracy of the book, or, really, the success of the book.

That's not their problem. They're paid to produce more books. Not produce good books, just more books. Quality is, you get the sense, their enemy, their nemesis. And when it looks like you are on quality's side, demanding time to do its work-- well, expect to fight for it.

It's been nine months. In the beginning I trusted them. I thought that, of course, we were on the same team, trying to put a good book out. I learned, five months later that was a lie. I was alone in wanting to put a good book out. They were not interested in good. Adequate was okay, but good wasn't a goal they shared with me.

Good was my problem, my albatross. Tied to my neck by my name. They had no such burden to bear.

And now I struggle, after fighting and fighting, to finish the book I am too tired to edit. I am exhausted beyond anything I've ever had to bear. I don't know how much more of this I can take--- and yet quiting is not an option.

All I know, for certain, is that nothing that comes of the book can be worth this. Already it has cost more in investment than it can ever make back. Even if it succeeds I cannot see how it can avoid being a failure. It was priced too cheap, its description doesn't match its contents, it has taken too long to edit, it has had too many people on staff, it is already going to be obsolete in some ways before it even prints.

I have forgotten why I did this--- oh yeah, to write the book I'd want to read.

Well, at this point, I never, ever want to read anything about sharepoint again. So what does that say?