Whenever I begin a book, I never know where I’m going, so, in a sense, everything is a surprise. I have a theme in mind, but that too has sometimes changed as I move along. I write in sections, akin to movements in music—some a few pages long, some a few lines, or, occasionally, a single line. When I finish writing one section, the next one simply comes to mind, and I depend on the luck of inspiration to keep the thing going.
With Cataract Blues, I did not have even a theme in mind—that is, a single theme. Three thoughts hit me at once: the purpose of mystery in the world; the memory of our daughter Amy, who died 15 years ago, and who never leaves me; and the color blue, which came blaring into my life after my recent cataract surgery.
