I went to see David Farris this evening, author of Lie Still, a literary suspense novel. (Since it was at Powell’s Books in downtown Portland, I thought it only appropriate to link to Powell’s rather than Amazon.)
He said he worked on this, his first novel, 16 years. It’s been optioned for a movie, and he’s working with the screenwriter on the medical details.
Sixteen years. Not continuous, but with times out for learning and growth, until the last two years when he knew what he wanted to say and how to say it.
It’s a medical thriller that looks at the ethical dilemmas doctors face. It sounds like a good book.
I’m happy for him (this sentence is usually followed by a “but,” but it’s not). With talent, hard work and dedication, it’s possible to reach the prize — getting your story out there between hardboard covers where perfect strangers can enter your world and learn the life lessons you’ve struggled so hard to earn for yourself.
I can’t say it gives me hope–or despair–any more than finding a really bad book published by a major house does. Every assault on the publishing walls is a new battle. Nobody’s battle really tells anything about anyone else’s.
So the only moral I can draw from this little story is that it is possible to storm the battlements.