Earnest Hemingway said there was nothing to writing: “All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.”
With my book at the printer and no more tweaks or ‘one more anythings’ to add, I tend to agree with Hemingway, as sharp as the phrase may sound.
I’ll also admit a small part of me is using the quote as a note for my absenteeism, you know, “Please excuse Andrea for not being here while she wrote her book but it was hard. See? Everyone says so.”
Over the past six or so months, people often asked how the book was coming along. I always said it was coming along fine, just fine thanks. But the truth was it didn’t always feel fine. Not necessarily bad either. I just didn’t really know how to explain it.
Upon reflection, writing the book reminded me of a freight train speeding along the tracks with a caboose full of chaos. All the while, the train kept chug chug chugging the muddle of ideas, words and stories closer to its destination. It was both thrilling and terrifying. Nearer to the end than the beginning, chaos morphed into order, mess into sense, and then, almost on time, the train pulled in to the station, the door slid open and inside was a book.
Perhaps that’s how winemakers feel every vintage – jumping on board with all the component pieces, knowing the end point is a bottle of wine, and then moving a big, wet, crushed, weather-affected madness toward its glorious end.
Now safely at the printers I thought I’d share some details, like the name: Through A Sparkling Glass – An A-Z of the Wonderland of Wine. It’s more of a gentle wander and wonder through wine than a definitive guide.
Now I’m off to New Zealand to visit the Marlborough region, attend the Pinot Noir 2013 conference and then, when that’s done, throw off the wine hat and take a turn about the Southern Alps.
Oh and here’s the cover. I hope you like it … fine, just fine.