Last night I let the blog go unwritten, because I wanted to take a day off to think about where the blog is going and where my book project is going. Frankly, the book has been going nowhere. I have now written at least five completely separate drafts ranging from 3 pages to 83 pages, and abandoned each one.

With a sunny day to think about it and no other writing to do, I have come to realize that my block stems from the enormity of the trip. The task’s size does not daunt me — I am used to writing tomes of up to three hundred pages, and my output just on this blog amounts to about 20,000 words a month (roughly the amount of text in an issue of Airstream Life). But the trip is different. It defies summarization, definition, and explanation. When I grab a hold of one piece, the rest seems to slip out of control like a greased balloon.

So my book drafts have been readable but annoying. One started to read like a “how to” guide to RV’ing. We don’t need that. There are plenty of guides already out there (although I will say that many of them are terrible). Another draft followed the “People’s Guide” travel book format, and did work at some level, but it wasn’t what I wanted to produce. I may resurrect that one later. A third draft attempted to tell our story chronologically and even I was fantastically bored with it by the tenth page. And then there were the various half-attempts, amounting to three or four pages of desperate writing in search of a point.

Since I will soon have to get into some heavy writing and editing for the Winter 2008 issue of Airstream Life (coming out in November), I wanted to at least have a stub of a book worked out this month. That way I won’t have to obsess about it when I should be working on the magazine.

My approach today is code-named “Seamonster”. I have taken to naming the drafts based on what inspired the approach. This one got kicked off by a collection of essays by Paul Theroux called “Sunrise with Seamonsters”. Theroux is a writer who simultaneously makes me stupified by his incredible skill, and sigh with envy. Just one of his opening sentences is better than any ten paragraphs I’ve ever written. I am like Antonio Salieri to Amadeus Mozart, good enough to recognize a true genius when I see one, but not good enough to ever play his music. Perhaps with another ten years of practice I’ll get better.

In any case, I want to recruit you, blog reader, to review a few pages of the current draft. The format of “Seamonster” will be a series of essays, each designed to stand alone but gradually build on each other to form a fairly complete picture of our two years of travel. The first essay will be an introduction, and if the format works I’ll continue to write additional essays — based in a large part on this blog — to eventually reach perhaps 25-40 essays and enough to fill a decent-sized book. (Then I’ll ask you to buy a copy, but let’s worry about that later.)

So starting tomorrow, I will be posting excerpts from the introductory essay here on the blog. Given that each blog entry is about 800 words, it will take several days to post an entire essay. Bear with me during this, and do feel free to send your comments and suggestions. I’m interested in whether you think the format works, whether you’d buy or recommend a book containing such essays, and what topics you’d like to see discussed.

If you have nice things to say, post them here as Comments. If you have negative things to say, write them on the back of a $20 bill and mail them to my PO Box. That will sweeten the blow.

Bonus shot: morning view from the tent

Of course I’ll still continue to post pictures and events from this week in addition to the Seamonster tests, so if you aren’t interested in being an Editor-for-a-Day there will be Tour of America stuff to read too. Thanks for your help!