Those three words mock me from the computer screen, rising from the page and burning my conscious. Although my book’s introduction has begun in earnest and its feels like the book is rumbling into some sort of existence the all-important title somehow still eludes me.
The title of any book is paramount for not only giving the perspective reader a vague idea about the book but to make it stand out on the shelf among its other papery competitors. What would you pick off the shelf; ‘some little people with hairy feet try and destroy a piece of bling’ or ‘Lord of the Rings’. It’s a no brainer. I have tried to remedy this problem and as such have piles of post-it notes forming a yellow carpet as they litter my room. None as of yet have stayed long in the unscrumpled state of existence as they all feel wrong somehow; too cheesey, too vague, too long, too boring, too short or too off topic.
I feel like Goldielocks and none of my titles are “just right”.
Regardless of the title turmoil progress is being made elsewhere. This week I finally returned to London to discover the verdict of the visa police’s conviction. I arrived in a constantly rain soaked London and trundled my way to the visa application centre, my fingers firmly stuck in the crossed position. This time compared to the last was blissfully easy; no queue, no questioning, no problem (for the story of last time click here). Opening each envelope containing the passports brought back the feeling of results day, wincing at the thought one of us might have been rejected. My worrying, however, was completely unjustified as each passport contained the ever so beautiful Indian visa. I thanked the cashier in a very overzealous manner and rushed out before they changed their minds.
I sat in a local coffee shop to celebrate with a cappuccino and calm down, as the adrenalin wore off realization hit, hard. It wasn’t the sudden realization that I was actually going back to India; it was the pressures that going to India carried. The pressure of making sure my friends coming with me have an incredible yet safe trip, however, the biggest pressure is the book. Like a parent living their lives through their children, I want the book to do so much, not just for me but for the people I will write about and Tibetan cause as a whole.
Have I bitten off more than I can chew? Will my friends actually enjoy India? Will writer’s block return to kill me? Will I ever settle on a title?
All I know now is that the days are ticking away and India awaits with all the answers….