I am shamelessly tagging COLIN MOCHRIE's name. Although I haven't seen him in years (except on television) I've learned he's written a book and sold it to Penguin. Yippee!
Colin's Book News
Colin and I went to theatre school together. He was at my wedding and I have pictures of him holding my son soon after he was born. A book is just one more achievement in a long list of achievements for this generous and talented guy. (We worked together once presenting tomatoes on Granville Island Market. We were in historical costume. I can't remember why.)
I'm very happy for him. He knows that deep down, I am. When I'm not grinding my teeth. I didn't mind my theatre cronies finding success in film, television and on stage (which they did) while I toiled away writing fiction. Because I was writing books and writing a book is a big deal. And it was MY thing.
Now Colin has done it too. Swell. Even though I have two books coming out myself, I'm experiencing feelings of possessiveness and misery. Like a seven year old who doesn't want her friends to play with her toys. Writing is my toy. There is no point pretending I'm not pouting about sharing.
I had a conversation just now with a man who said the only person he was ever jealous of was the guy who managed the trails for the Gatineau Park. This man has a passion for trail-making and forestry. He said "I'm not jealous of mayors or millionaires, but a guy who makes trails for a living."
I could relate. I'm not jealous of the acting accolades of my friends, or their awards, or their wealth. But tread into my writing waters and a snarl comes to my lip. Our passions drive us to distraction, to jealousy, piques, to moments of being less than gracious when we hear good news.
Colin, forgive me. I know you will because you're a decent guy. Forgive me for hoping you suffered a little writing your book. (Say you did. I'll feel better.)