The Big Book

This is a work of fiction. No real people, places or events were used in this story. Copyright 2011 Plot Roach
　　
The Big Book
By Plot Roach

Jason wandered up and down the aisles of the Meridian library, looking for books to help him conquer his inner muse and break through the writer’s block currently walling him in. His eyes passed over the dusty hard backed tomes and paperbacks with warped spines:

The Big Book Of Grammar and Style

The Oxford Book of Punctuation

Get That Novel Written and Published!

All these and more stood out like candy on the shelves. But he wanted to weigh his choices before pulling the books from their slumber off the shelves and trekking them back to his home three miles away.

Five, he told himself, I’ll only take five for today and then I’ll come back for more tomorrow. He pulled a promising book on 'writing essays' from famous authors down and clutched it to his chest, simultaneously scanning the shelves for more prey.

He picked up a book down on ‘taming the muse’ and quickly placed it back on the shelf when he realized that it was for writing erotic fiction, not his best subject by far.

He ambled through three more aisles, caught in the headlights of other people’s thoughts made physical. If only I could be up on these shelves with them, he thought. He had tried so hard to sell his writing: short stories, poetry and even a long novel. But neither publisher nor agent would touch him until he had broken into the business and made a name for himself. But how can I get published, if no one knows who I am? And no one is willing to take a chance on a new author? He thought, the depression of many years of fruitless trying lie trapped like a hedgehog in his throat. He was about to turn away and head toward the checkout station when he saw it: The Book of Nonexistent Writing.

Wait! What? He thought. He dropped the stack of books to the floor, and pulled the mammoth thing from its shelf. It had a bright red background upon which bold black letters declared: "The biggest book of fiction never published."

How can it never be published if it’s here in this book? He asked himself. He flipped it open to the first few pages, hoping to find an answer that he could understand or at least find out that the book was a colossal joke.

"Martin and Yandex present: the book of fiction never published, as of yet." The front page declared. The book went on to describe that the works contained within it pages changed daily, that when an author was dead, their work then appeared in the Big Book of Unpublished Dead Authors. And would thereby vanish from this text and leave room for the next unfortunate writer who had never been published.
How can a book change by itself if it is set into print? He thought, flipping the pages further in the book. And then he watched unbelievingly as the page he had opened began to erase itself. James Morris Jones appeared to have died while Jason was busy reading the introduction. He was now being erased (as was the listing of all of his earthy unpublished work) and presumably was being added to the ‘Dead’ book. Jason felt an incredible shiver pass up his spine and he almost dropped the book as he saw a new entry writing itself into the big red covered book.

“Jason Alexander Camp, 34. Born in Moab County ,Wyoming. First attempt to publish was in 'Arcana’s Journal', a dismal attempt at science fiction.”

It went on to list out the forty or so attempts of writing he had sent to various magazines, publishers and agents since he began his writing career five years ago.

The book continued: “What ideas he did not slaughter with poor grammar and punctuation, were simply left to rot in handwritten notebooks on the dusty shelves next to his desk or die with the hard drive of his computer. This man will be missed only by loved ones and landlord, forever as insubstantial as his writing and as forgotten as his stories."

Jason let the book fall to the floor, feeling as though his heart would burst from his chest and run through the public library like a wildebeest running from a hyena. Breathing deeply to calm himself, he retrieved the book from the floor, closed it and returned it to its shelf. In the last few seconds that had passed, he had formed a plan: The first thing he would do was pick up the books in a pile on the floor, check them out and take them home, vowing to read them from cover to cover to improve his skills. Then he would head to the nearest bar for a good, stiff drink. No one should ever witness their failure like that on a sober conscious, he thought. Then I’ll go home and start pounding away at the keyboard. I won’t let that damned book win! He thought. I will not let myself be forgotten and relegated to the pages of either book. Do you hear me, Fate?! I will take my literary life back into my own hands!

Halfway through his second beer, Jason realized that fear of failure can be a source of writer’s block, but it can also help to break it.