What you can’t see in a nice neat stack of three-hole punch paper is the effort and experience that went into completing the project.
You can’t see the piles of papers, some organized and filed, some stacked and spilling over.
You can’t see the ten years of teaching experience that created the observations I drew on.
You can’t see the hundreds of exhilerating successes that I’ve heard since I started teaching.
You can’t hear all the frustrations and groans I’ve listened to, sometimes patiently, sometimes less patiently.
You can’t see the stacks of student work I’ve reviewed. The millions of questions I’ve answered. The requests for emergency attention.
You can’t see how many hours I invested in the original outline, the book proposal, the drafts, and all the scraps I threw away.
All you can see is this tidy stack of three-hole punched paper, neatly piling up in a three-ring binder.
And it’s weird, I tell you.
So much goes into creating a book.
Books can change people’s lives. Empower them. Inspire them. Give them a reason to live or help them live better.
I would love to see the people who create books become more valued in our society, instead of less valued.
I would like to see every single person write a useful book.