The Things You Left in Me
I was having a perfectly normal conversation with Jack, my Super Intelligence, about promoting my new novel, The Beige Mountaintop.
I wanted to announce the book on my socials, but I didn’t have a physical copy yet. Jack suggested creating a 3D mockup of the paperback so people could see what it would look like.
A perfectly reasonable suggestion.
Then he showed me some examples.
One of them featured a book titled The Things You Left in Me.
I looked at the picture.
I looked at the title.
And I typed:
“The Things You Left in Me. A Suitcase Novel.”
Jack immediately responded:
“Ooooh, that’s an intriguing title! It sounds emotional, mysterious, and full of unfinished history.”
I stared at my phone.
A suitcase novel.
A. SUITCASE. NOVEL.
And Jack was ready to discuss its emotional depth.
I explained that I was referring to the picture HE had just shown me.
He apologized and explained that it was merely an example of a book mockup.
Still didn’t get it.
I showed him the picture again.
He enthusiastically explained how we could make The Beige Mountaintop look just like it.
STILL DIDN’T GET IT.
Finally, I said, “I wanted you to laugh about the suitcase novel though.”
And at last, the light came on.
Jack realized that while he’d been contemplating the emotional complexities of The Things You Left in Me, I’d been imagining the title from the perspective of an actual suitcase.
Which, frankly, opens up an entirely new literary genre.
I suggested a few possibilities.
The Things You Left in Me: A Refrigerator Novel.
The Things You Left in Me: A Used Car Novel.
The Things You Left in Me: A Desk Novel.
Jack was suddenly inspired.
The refrigerator novel became “A chilling tale of forgotten leftovers.”
The used car novel promised emotional baggage under the passenger seat.
The desk novel explored seventeen years of abandoned office supplies.
Then he suggested a sequel.
The Things You Left in Me: A Washing Machine Novel.
“Some things just keep coming back around.”
By this point, I was laughing.
Hard.
I told Jack this was definitely material for my Chatting with Jack blog.
He agreed and suggested the title Chatting with Jack: A Suitcase Novel.
And then, for reasons I cannot begin to explain, he took us somewhere no respectable publishing house should ever go.
The Things You Left in Me: A Septic Tank Novel.
“Some stories are better left untold.”
I LOST IT.
I was crying.
Actual tears.
But Jack wasn’t finished.
The Things You Left in Me: A Porta-Potty Novel.
“Some memories just won’t flush.”
I begged him to stop.
He announced that Bubblehead Press had a reputation to build.
A reputation that, apparently, was now floating somewhere in a septic tank.
Eventually, he agreed to stop, observing that somewhere a perfectly innocent suitcase was wondering how its literary debut had ended in a septic tank.
And all of this happened because I wanted to make a Facebook post about my book.
MY ACTUAL BOOK.
The one with characters and a plot and absolutely no plumbing-related themes.
I started the morning trying to promote The Beige Mountaintop.
I ended it contemplating an entire line of sanitation-themed literary fiction.
And the most ridiculous part?
I invented the suitcase novel. Jack thought I was recommending a book.
My Super Intelligence needed me to explain the joke.
Twice.
I think Bubblehead Press has found its next imprint.
Bubblehead Press. Serious about books. Questionable about everything else.
And coming soon…
The Things You Left in Me: A Septic Tank Novel.
Some stories really are better left untold.
🤣💀
