The Children’s Book Writer

He preferred to write drunk. His books were more successful when he wrote them drunk. His theory was that his drunk books were looser and more anarchic, and children loved anarchy, meaning they still believed they would be happier if they could just do whatever they wanted. He didn’t think of children when he wrote; he thought of drinking. The book he was currently working on was called Tears. It was about a child who cries and cries until her tears form a puddle, then a river, then a lake, then an ocean, until finally the entire world is covered in salty water. It was the drunkest book he had ever written, and when he thought of it this way he felt a little proud. Often, when he was drunk enough, he cried as well. He drank and wrote and cried. His publisher would worry the book was too sad to publish but would eventually publish it anyway. His publisher worried about his drinking. Sometimes he went to see prostitutes. He told the prostitutes he wrote children’s books because he thought this might make him seem kind. Sometimes when he was with a prostitute he would cry, and then he would tell her about the little girl whose tears became a puddle, a river, a lake, an ocean and then the entire world. The prostitute would roll her eyes, but he wouldn’t notice. When Tears was finally finished, late at night, he would walk by the children’s bookstore and see his book in the window. One night when he was standing in front of the window a family with two small children also stopped to look. He pointed to the cover of Tears. “I wrote that,” he said. They might have not completely believed him, but nonetheless seemed mildly impressed.