Reply to an old friend who thinks I should write a book

You remember Pres. Kimball's preface to his Miracle of Forgiveness, wherein he quotes Job to explain his own reluctance to write: "O, that mine adversary would write a book!" 

The fact of the matter is that I have already written several books, booth non-fiction and fiction, covering my years as a child, as a clown, as a missionary in Thailand, as a radio announcer -- even as a homeless person (I was homeless for several years after returning from Thailand in 2010). I could never interest an honest agent to take them on, or a publisher to look at them. I don't even know where most of those manuscripts are anymore. I know my ex-brother in law has one that I sold to him for a few thousand dollars many long years ago, and I have another one or two slowly crumbling to dust in an old suitcase of mine. I have no interest in resurrecting them.

I no longer believe I have anything of value to contribute to the world of literature in the form of a book-length work. I also believe my timericks are as ephemeral as a bubble. They should not be trapped between the covers of a book, like a butterfly pinned to a piece of blotting paper in someone's collection. 

My master plan, if you can call it that, is to continue to write timericks and little nano-memoirs as the mood hits me, to be shared with friends and family, and to be collected on my blog site. I now have a list of about 20 professional journalists that receive my daily emailed timericks, at their own request -- it may be that one day one of those journalist/fans will be in a position to hire me to produce such work on a regular basis for their newspaper and pay me for it. That is my ambition, when it comes to writing -- not a book, but a paid position producing my topical crambo. 

And can I be just a little bit blunt for a second with you? You are not the first friend to implore me to turn my hand to writing a book; but in every case, those of my friends who have counseled me to do so have absolutely no experience in doing so themselves. They have no idea the amount of work and stress involved in producing a 300-page manuscript and then peddling it to blase publishers. I have had that experience, and it is not pleasant, And I don't really want to do it again. 

But I welcome any other suggestions you may ever have as to how to monetize my peculiar talents. I don't wish to discourage you or anyone from suggesting ways and means for me to pick up a few more spare spondulicks with my quill. 

And I do appreciate you taking the time to write out your suggestions to me. It touches me deeply that there are still friends who feel the need to counsel me for my own good, despite my lackadaisical and cynical ways. 

God bless you for that . . .