Have a child. Plant a tree. Write a book. — the Talmud
The graphic to the right is clickable and linked to the Amazon store, where you will find said book on sale in both paperback and ebook versions.
Breathing for Two is a short work (75 pages) that took me long to write. It’s the story of breathing from the point of view of an anesthesiologist. It’s also the story of my coming of age as a doctor–or rather, of my comeuppance.
I can tell you that Nick, an unbiased observer, was interested:
Nick: “Dada, will you read me Breathing for Two?”
Me: “It’s for grown-ups.”
Nick: “Dad, you don’t have to be the world’s greatest writer to read to me.”
Say what? Oh, how sharper than a serpent’s tooth it is to have a thankless child.
Actually, I’ve always wanted to read a book of mine to Nick. The only problem was writing it. As we made our way over the years through bedtime recitals of Avi, Ranger’s Apprentice, Redwall, Narnia, etc., etc., a little voice was always at my back, whispering: Wolf, Wolf, you’re a writer. Write something for him. Be his Lewis Carroll! Be his J.K. Rowling! You’re running out of time.
Did I heed this voice? Reader, I did not. Now he’s ten. It was Breathing for Two or nothing.
My reluctance wasn’t that I thought he wouldn’t understand it. My dithering involved the comeuppance parts of the book. Did I really want to read to him about how I screwed up? Would he come to know me as the bumbling fool that I so truly am?
“Just read him the book,” said Nora, and over seven nights I did.
Once chapter in particular I feared. It described the consequences of the dumbest thing I ever did in an operating room.
“How’d that chapter work for you?” I said with as much nonchalance as I could muster after its rendition.
“That was a great chapter,” he said.
“And, um, did anything bother you about it?”
“No,” he said.
On the last night, when we were done, he said, “Dada, can I write a review of the book on Amazon?”
He’d heard me despairing to Nora that no one would would want to buy or review such a book.
“I’ll think about it,” I said. “What would you say?”
“I give it 110 percent,” he said.
“But why?” I said. “Give me particulars.”
Well, it’s good for ten-year-olds that are kind of odder. And good for writers who might want to know about a new field of writing.
There you have it. You can’t go wrong with a book for odder ten-year-olds.
“I want the audiobook,” he said. “I want to listen at night.”
“There is no audiobook,” I said.
“You should make one with your own voice.”
COMING SOON: BREATHING FOR TWO–THE AUDIOBOOK
But should that happen I’m not sure I can bring myself to do a whole post about it here.
If you want word, or if you want to hear about any new releases by me, click on the “Wolf–New Work Updates” graphic to the right (it also lives in the right sidebar) to join my new-work e-list. You’d make me very happy.
I tell you what–here’s an experiment: I’ll put the names of everyone who joins the e-list over the next ten days into a hat. Then I’ll pick one lucky winner. What do you win? A half hour of my brain time.
If you’re already on the list and want in on this, drop me a line.
Got a piece of writing (limit: 25 pages) you want feedback on? A medical question? A blog/Internet question? A research question? Tragic-comical-pastoral? Historic-comical-philosophical? Email or phone chat–I can’t promise a solution, but I guarantee I’ll try.
Mi cerebro es su cerebro.
YOU MIGHT ALSO ENJOY:
How to Do What You Love by Paul Graham. Maybe you didn’t read this two weeks ago. Here’s the link again.
Just Add Father is listening. (Add your thoughts by clicking a few lines below below, where it says comments or add one. I always respond here.)
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