"There's a book inside each of us."
I'm not sure if this statement applies universally, but I know that with my husband and me, it certainly rings true. The interesting thing about it is how different each of our internal books happen to be.
The book inside of me is centuries old and half a world away. It comes complete with chain mail, catapults, famine, foes, visions, intrigue, and a love triangle or two.
The book inside of my husband deals with something far more modern. It involves statistics, graphs, personal anecdotes, and eighty hours of fieldwork at a nearby freeway exit ramp.
My book: a tale of the First Crusade.
His book: an economic case study on the profitability of panhandling.
Here's to hoping that both books gestate by the end of the year! Here's to hoping that one or both of them becomes a bestseller! Because the one thing I don't want my husband's fieldwork to prove is that there's more money to be made in panhandling than there is in writing books.