So, how weird is it to be blogging about a book so seemingly removed from the human experience as Anjels (working title)? There is a part of me that cringes a little when people ask what I’m working on. I know that to many this sounds like some teenage fantasy that I’m cooking up under the covers at night by flashlight. I wonder sometimes if I should just tell people I’m working on a detective novel.
L. Frank Baum probably had the same feeling when people asked about his work. “Yes, it’s about a girl and her dog who are swept out of Kansas by a tornado into a world filled with witches and flying monkeys.”
My book has little in common with The Wizard of Oz, except for how ridiculous it sounds in a sentence. “It’s about angels, only they’re nothing like the angels you think you know about, and they live on another planet and don’t understand anything about sex.”
I could probably buff that description up a bit for an elevator pitch. Still, your takeaway word would be “weird.” And yet, I plan to sell a lot of these.
A book is so much more than its elevator pitch. This one is about love and loss, the joy of flying, coming of age and, ultimately, the eternal question about why we are here. Yes, I answer that one. Obliquely.
Perhaps I should say something like, “It is about a young girl discovering the agony and joy of life.” But I wonder if I could resist saying, “And she has wings instead of arms.”