So, I was just off reading a blog. One of my favorites. Over there, on the right.
I had read, a long, long time ago, that she was sued by her publisher. Apparently, there was a misunderstanding about what she owed a publisher who changed the editor on her. She wanted to shop her book elsewhere, but the publisher had already expended considerable money and time on her stuff.
Whatever. It told me she was having troubles publishing the book.
I have a friend who is being published next week, and I have published two of my own books. I understand a bit about the publishing business. I am a writer and publisher and business owner.
And I am also a horrible, horrible person.
You see, when I saw Dooce's book today, on her blog, I actually had this thought:
"Editor? Edited by? You've got to be shitting me!"
I had been led to believe, this whole time reading her blog, that she had written a book. I don't know why, because I'm sure, somewhere, deep in the recesses of her archives, is a post that says, "I'm compiling essays for a book that is my idea." I didn't read this post that must exist, however, so I had the crazy idea that she wrote the whole thing.
Nope. A couple of essays inside the collection, yes. Wrote the whole thing, no.
And so, I am a horrible person. I thought, "Just edited?" the same way that people think I'm "Just a teacher?" "Just a mom?"
Or how, sometimes, I might say, "I just make soap. It's not rocket science."
I am certain the effort she put into editing that book was profound. I am certain she spent a lot of time and concern into making sure her essays in there are perfect.
I guess I was just disappointed that she didn't write the whole thing. I can't put my finger on why, except I am a bigot, a snotty, elitist writer who thinks if your name is on the book, you should have written the whole damn thing!
Go ahead! Vilify! I deserve it!