Puzzling out Play Book

Guys. It’s been a bit since I’ve posted. I mean, I’ve posted notes, I’ve posted recorded interviews, but I haven’t written for you here. I’m sorry.

Where do I begin to catch up? So much has happened! Here’s the big thing: my editor rearranged my book.

It was a couple of weeks ago. He’s been rather busy because Malcolm Guite’s Galahad and the Grail, also with Rabbit Room Press, was #50 on the Amazon bestseller charts. Every time it comes in, they sell out. Also because of many other things, I’m sure. But that’s enough to do it.

So we got on a call, Pete and Sophie and I, and Pete proposed an entire re-arrangement of Play Book. And, by golly, he’s right. It works. Apparently he was pretty stressed about proposing the idea. But man, he nailed it.

Instead of a general arc going through redemptive history from before everything began to when everything is right again, to something more like a treasure hunt.

-Pre-amble

-The Game is Afoot

-Following the Breadcrumbs

-Playing in the Dark

-Hide & Seek

-The Most Playful One

-Conclusion.

So, practically, this means that I have been taking apart the entire book and re-arranging it. Pete did a fairly detailed job of rearranging subsections, but I’m going through and finding bits and choosing how best they fit into this new order. And then, it’s a question of creating the connective tissue. For Play Book, that’s both a literary and visual question. OH: and the couple of hundred comments that I’ve got in the original document all need to be pulled over individually. Getting there.

I mentioned that this felt very much like putting a puzzle together, which I’d just done with my mom and brother while visiting in Pennsylvania. While it’s time consuming, I also find it really soothing.

It was a really cool puzzle- you only got to see part of it, and when you solved it, you solved a murder mystery. So similar to re-arranging a book. When you solve it, the book falls into place…more. Then there’s all the little puzzles. It’s like getting the outline of the puzzle in place and then you start piecing together big satisfying chunks. By the way, that’s what Pete calls sections of the book, humoring me. “Chapters” doesn’t feel right, as the book kind of flows from one thing to another. So it’s Big Chunks and Small Chunks. Also “narrative” instead of “essay” because essays put me in a cold sweat and make me feel like I’m in school. Bless him, humoring this weirdo.

So, that’s what’s up. There’s so much more that’s up, and I repent of falling off here. This is my getting back on my Substackian horse. I’m going to stop here for the moment, and go with good enough over perfect. I’m just waving a white flag to let you know I am alive. The book is alive. It’s just enduring a deep adolescence.

Oh! Also exciting. We finally have actual dimensions for the book. Did you know when you are creating a book, your editor can get something called a dummy that lets you see and feel what your book will actually be like? This has been a long process for us. The last dummy was too floppy. Nobody wants a floppy dummy. Play Book is an artifact, and we want it to be beautiful. It’s also meant to be touchable and take along-able and manhandle-able, so it had to be sturdy enough to stand up to that. I’ll show you soon. Knowing the actual dimensions means that Sophie Killingley and Pete and I get to start having a lot of fun. Play happens within boundaries, you know.

Speaking of puzzles, I’ll leave you with a poem draft for the moment, from somewhere near the end of Play Book.

Poem: Will there be cubing?

Rounding the corner to the bus station,

My son says he is not so sure about God making everything perfect.

Perfect, he says, sounds like there are no more puzzles.

Like all of the Rubik’s cubes will be solved,

All the algorithms discovered.

Oh no way, I said.

That genius God put in Mr. Rubik will stay.

The thing, the Someone who got everything going

will keep unfolding wonders,

just minus the heartbreak.

We’ll keep discovering,

and it will get more amazing and amazinger

and we will grow into the wonder.

“All the time?” he asked,

“That sounds exhausting too.”

Then I told him our pastor said

it’ll be like music, really great music––

big when it needs to be,

twists when there needs to be,

space when there needs to be.

That seemed okay.