Simplicity is Horseradish, Pt 1

Part 1: Simple Truths

This is the truth that I am faced with. I have been staring, obsessing and yes, actually reading Lemony Snicket's Horseradish in the bathroom for some time now. The book describes itself as this:

Life is a turbulent journey, fraught with confusion, heartbreak and inconvenience.

THIS BOOK WILL NOT HELP.

Many collections slap together the wit and wisdom of certain authors in the hopes of inspiring a reader at a crucial time in his or her life. Instead, this book contains a bouquet of alarming but inescapable truths from the work of Lemony Snicket, along with selections from his unpublished papers and remarks he has made at dinner parties and anarchist riots, in order to remind the reader that even the loftiest of inspirations contains a sharp, bitter kernel of dread - and vice versa.

Now this is not a book review, other than it is to say, that the sheer presence of 'Horseradish' kept on inspiring me in ways I have yet to understand. I know the following (and will use Mr. Snicket's sober prose to present):

• Many famed authors publish great works of art, only to follow up with more work, that actually feels like work: mystifying in purpose, dour in execution and with an added dash of expectations.
• The simplicity in which these 'follow-up' works are presented, belies the subtle nuance in which the new material aspires to follow the old work in style and form, but fails to be original in content.
• Books you feel need to be read in the privacy of a bathroom can never lead to anything great.

The above three points do not just apply to Mr. Snicket's work, a dear friend and esteemed colleague of mine, if indeed I had ever met him, he approved of me, and I myself had actually published something, none of which are as of yet the case. Miss Rowling has been known to approach her follow-up 'The Tales of Beedle the Bard' in much the same way, as has Mr. Tolkien with 'The Silmarillion' and many other artists of the pen before and after. And as Mr. Snicket astutely comments on the back of his book: 'This book will not help.'

As an author who has never published anything yet, I find myself in the unique position of seeing the footsteps of others gone before me and the choice to not go down the same path, or take the bus that is now approaching and forget about walking altogether. I could preempt my eco-meta-fantasy (a possible revolutionary sub genre in YA storytelling) by first releasing my 'follow-up', however now inappropriately named. 

Horseradish First, Followed by a Feast of Seafood
No more than a blip on the steampunk radar this story could be elegantly simple in form and shape, while benefiting from today's excellent design and publishing tools online. The content would be of the same caliber as that of poor Beedle or the proverbial horseradish, possibly without the added misery of inappropriately raised hopes.

The Bored Becomes the Bard
I could gloriously revel in the content, which to me may not be original, but to the unsuspecting community of readers could be as surprising as stepping into an elevator shaft, expecting an elevator to be waiting for them. The story would be as new and sparkling as the cover that hides the mystery and the font type that slowly reveals it.

Sell One, Then Sell-A-Million
And finally I could grace the hood of the toilet paper roll (or where I live - the water spout) together with the greatness of Lemony, J.K. and J.R.R, whose familiarity I would now feel confident in sharing, having been published, but without the awkward situation of having been sold out of a $1 bin. The 'lead to greatness' would not refer to the odd fellowship of missing wizards or mysterious triplets, but instead the roll of soft toilet paper underneath (or cool refreshment of pressured water) which always promises relief after relief.

So Horseradish has given me a valuable a valuable lesson in writing and releasing a book into the world. In it's own words:

Just because something is traditional is no reason to do it, of course. Piracy, for example, is a tradition that has been carried on for hundreds of years, but that doesn't mean we should all attack ships and steal their gold.

I agree. We should instead steal the idea of sailing into the unknown in search of gold... and return with spices instead.

(part 2 can be found on my other blog at MuseFlight.wordpress.com)