Our theme for the month of October is “haunt.”

I never read the thirteenth book of “A Series of Unfortunate Events” by Lemony Snicket, and I think that’s exactly what he wanted.

And now that I’ve written a full manuscript in the middle of all this suffering, I guess I understand.

Not unlike giving blood, you’re suddenly handing over a part of you to enter into the imagination and childhood reading experience of total strangers. Here, you can have this. I worked really hard on it. I hope you accept it, and it makes you better. You can say that about your blood or your book.

Terrifying. Haunting.

So after rereading Lemony Snicket’s NPR interview after he’d just published that last book of a book series I suffered through in fifth grade, I felt justified. Here was an author—with at least twelve books of experience—who still was overcome with a sort of dread to the point of hilarity.

After all, how do you not feel like sucking your book back into your brain because it feels so unimportant now, amid genocides and hurricanes?

 

The Best Way to Read Book the 13^th

1. Snicket: “I don’t think children should read book the 13^th. Go to the library and find a nice, long, harmless book. And there is no step 2.”

(Note: At this point, the reporter interviewing Mr. Snicket was in a state of panic. But in the best tradition of National Public Radio, the reporter did not let Snicket evade the question. Evade, in case you do not know, means to slyly and slimily slip away without confronting the query. At any rate, cowed by the considerable pressure of NPR, Mr. Snicket did agree to move on to steps 2, 3, 4 and 5.)

2. “If I had to choose ideal reading conditions, it would be in pitch darkness with one’s eyes closed.”

3. “For a snack break, I’d suggest raw onions. They will make you tear up and make the reading process more difficult.”

4. “I would suggest wearing some sort of restrictive garment that would make page-turning impossible.”

5. And then if you must … “turn on the lights and start reading.”

 

Waiting for your manuscript to come back to you, after you’re certain the reader hated it and now hates you? Even worse. Keeps you up at night if you’re someone like me.

 

Mr. Snicket, What Will Happen When Young Readers Finish Book the 13^th?

1. “Well, first of all, I think they might find themselves in a state of emotional shock. So they may find themselves filling their hours by muttering to themselves or licking spots off the wall.”

2. “Parents should be very alarmed.”

3. A possible remedy: “Well, I was taught the game of contract bridge at a fairly early age. I find that always helps wile away the hours.”

4. Another way to pass the time: “I think all children should develop the skill of eavesdropping. I think the most important lesson to learn about eavesdropping is to have the excuse prepared ahead of time. So when one is caught the excuse is right there, waiting. More than once I have been caught eavesdropping with a broom in my hand; I pretend I am about to sweep up something.”

5. Yet another way to pass the time: “I recommend learning how to write a very good thank-you note. A child who can write a nice thank-you note can turn into a cocaine dealer five years later and be remembered as child who wrote nice thank-you notes.”

 

I have seven thank you notes half written on my desk, waiting for me to finish them. They’re addressed to my readers who suffered through the early-stage drafts. But how do you thank someone for that? They’ve seen the worst that story will every look.

 

Lemony Snicket’s Advice on How to Write a Nice Thank-You Note

1. Do not start with the thank you.

2. Start with any other sentence. If you first say, “Thank you for the nice sweater,” you can’t imagine what to write next. Say, “It was so wonderful to come home from school to find this nice sweater. Thank you for thinking of me on Arbor Day.”

3. Then you’re done.

 

This manuscript might never exist outside of the beta readers, my poor agent, and my own brain. But on some days, eight memories and eight marked-up hard copies are eight too many. I can’t stand to think about it outside of my sketchbook and my Word document.

Books from my mind? Out in the world? With the possibility of making it on to real people’s shelves?

Once we’re there, then that’s it. Then it has to make a difference.

Terrifying. Haunting.

 

What You Can Do With Your 13 Volumes of the Baudelaire Books

If you live in a household with 13 rickety tables, inserting a book under each of the 13 rickety legs will mean that the tables “can all be settled evenly.”