Over the summer, I received two offers to write books.  Yes, I felt very important and worthwhile, having people come to me and ask me to put my words of wisdom on paper for all the world to read.  It was almost a Sally Fields moment.

Alas, I declined.  The offers weren’t quite as financially rewarding as I would hope, to the tune of my essentially subsidizing the publishers for the time I would spend writing.  It’s one thing to write because of restless fingers syndrome, and another to write because someone wants to make money off your efforts.  Not that I have anything against making money.  I am a capitalist through and through.  But if someone is to make money off my efforts, I would prefer it be me. 

But the financial issue wasn’t the primary reason for my turning the very kind offers down.  The most basic reason is that I don’t know that I could have met the expectations of the books.  I don’t doubt for a minute that I could have written enough tripe to satisfy the publishers, their only interest being that my efforts be sufficient to sell sheets of paper with writing on it to unsuspecting lawyers.  It’s my own expectations that wouldn’t be met.  Could I produce a writing that would be truly worthwhile?

One of the publishers sought a book along the lines of how to win criminal cases.  There’s no answer to that question.  The idea was absurd.  How ridiculously arrogant would I be to pretend that I can craft a book telling other lawyers the secret to winning.  The only thing I know is to work hard, and then work hard some more.  What would I write on the next page?

There are so many people out there who want to be a guru, even if it means that they are only one chapter ahead of their disciples in the textbook.  Then there are some really bad books out there, plainly meant to be read by the perpetually ignorant.  The ego boost from having one’s name on a book, and being able to lay claim to being an author, must fill a gap in the lives of many lawyers, enough that they are willing to shove all good sense under the desk and whip out the old Selectric III.  Do they ask themselves, do I really have anything to say that will help others to be better lawyers?  Am I really so wonderful that I can tell other how to do it?

The word guru evokes a negative reaction in some people. It’s seen as a pejorative term, where someone unworthy holds themselves out as having the wherewithal to tell others what to do.  There are a lot of people who do exactly that, but want to avoid the taint of being called guru.  You can’t have it both ways.  If you hold yourself out as having the answers that others need, then you hold yourself out as a guru.  Whether you deserve to be a guru is another matter.  I’m no one’s guru.

I just like to write.  Don’t get me wrong, I would love to write a book.  Poems maybe.  Not Haiku though.  Maybe someone will ask me to write a law book that I will feel comfortable about, competent to do.  Maybe I’ll happen onto an idea that I feel is really worthwhile, where I can help others with some solid and sound advice.  There are a few things that I think I know pretty well, and can offer some serious insight.  I’m not that they are book-worthy, though they could fill a pamphlet without much problem.

I am flattered and appreciative of the offers to write books.  But when and if I do, I also want to be proud of what I’ve done, and feel that I’m worthy of the honor to provide information to others. That time has yet to come.  I’m still learning.