The Jimmy: A canine co-author
Let’s start with the facts: I am a dog. My people call me Slim Jim. I prefer, The Jimmy. It’s hard to feel noble as a dog in modern times, and so I have chosen to place the definite article in front of my name. If these seems arrogant; I apologise (but not really).
It is my intention to share what it’s like to be the canine companion of a writer. I know there have been many, far more famous than I. Elizabeth Barrett Browning had Flush. Beatrix Potter had Kep. And how could one forget about Steinbeck’s Charley? Despite the fame of the humans attached to these dogs, I consider my person to be as unique as a snowflake. Supposedly there are no two alike, but who can tell for sure. I mean, who has that kind of time to check?
I believe every writer; my human included, to possess a thumbprint of quirks, habits, rituals, and a gallery of scary voices that slobber in their ear all the horrible things that can befall someone writing a novel. Especially a first novel. I intend to share the details of my writerly person’s unique journey through the creation of her first book.
I think of her as my Melanie. My human. My writer. And I have been watching her very closely ever since she came home one brilliant day in August of 2014, grabbed my face in her hands and whispered into my forehead, “I’m going to write a book, Jim. What do ya think about them beans?” Ever since that day, I have been rooting for her. Trying not to be too needy. Suppressing my urges to go bonkers and trash the couch when she is on the computer for what feels like a millennium. As a result, I have relieved five squeaky toys of their noisome guts and made four other stuffies my bitch by eviscerating them with speed and precision.
I will share what I know about my Melanie and her journey as a writer, a woman, a creative. I will share with you what I have witnessed. I will report what I have heard. I will convey what I know to be true of her heart and mind as she makes her way to the end.
In order to believe me, you must appreciate the depth of a dog’s skills in reconnaissance. When you think we are sleeping, we are listening. When you think we are staring blankly, we are watching. When you think we are chasing a squirrel…well, most likely we ARE chasing a squirrel, but we’re thinking about you! Really. And when you think we’re at home feeling lonely and sleeping the day away, we might just be writing a blog about our human!
Throughout future posts you will come to know her and what it has been like for her becoming a first-time author. I will leave you with a few things I know to be true about her, that might help you along the way.
Let’s begin with the fact that she adores Stephen King. Would, in fact, let him kiss her full on the mouth even though he’s a bit scary and old enough to be her father. Her words, not mine. I think she hopes some of his genius would rub off on her in the mingling of saliva. My theory, not hers. Also, she swears like a trucker, and I apologise for my stereotyping to all those truckers who do not use profanities as verbs, nouns, adverbs and adjectives like my Melanie does. If I quote her in these blog posts, be prepared to see the F-bomb dropped here and there.
The final; perhaps most important, thing to understand is this: When she writes, she glows. When she writes, she smiles. When she writes, she understands…herself and others.
Until next time…squirrel!!!