Damn. Damn. Damn. Damn.
I had the perfect — perrrrrfect— title for my next book about my and B.’s big backpacking trip in 2002. You know, the one with the 9 cities, 4 continents, 2 backpacks, and 1 very weird romance. Anyway, it came to me a couple of years ago, and I couldn’t wait to use it.
You know where this is going, right? A book’s just been published with just that title. And it’s a memoir.
I kick myself and think, Should I have gone ahead and written that book first, instead of this unwieldy war novel? I mean, it’s not like World War II can be changed or anything. People will be writing about that war for another thousand years.
Oh well. My only consolation is that titles can’t be copyrighted, so I can still use it. (I should’ve known it was too good to be true when I did a book title search when I first thought of it and nothing came up. Apparently it is true that there’s truly nothing original under the sun.) It’ll take me another 4-5 years before that one’s completed anyway, the way this current manuscript is going. By then maybe this new book will be pulp. (Mean, I know, but I’m not happy!)