National Sports Journalism Center

Flying home from the U.S. Open golf tournament at Pebble Beach, I sat next to a woman reading an Emily Dickinson biography.

But that was no book in her hands.

I asked, "How do you like the Kindle?"

"It’s wonderful," she said.

"How many books you have in it?"

"Fifteen. We’re on the way to Europe. Me and my Kindle."

She could read across North America, across the Atlantic, from London to Moscow and back to California – all without lugging 40 pounds of books. The Kindle and its competitors are marvels of our high-tech times, and millions of such devices are in use, which is a good thing for readers, bless ‘em all.

Yet a writer whose walls are covered with books didn’t know what to think. I wondered how the Dickinson biographer felt. His years of work had produced not a handsome volume with gilt-edged pages and delicate typefaces befitting the Belle of Amherst. The traditional biography had been reduced to . . . what? . . . electrons? . . . light-emitting diodes? And it was available in a machine that for all its stylishness – slim, light, graceful – looked less substantial than the packaging of the latest Lady Gaga CD.

Then came an even more disturbing thought. All books, all those beautiful objects of literature, could be dematerialized and reconfigured in my fellow passenger’s Kindle. The thought became personal after my flight when I walked into my house and saw four boxes marked TITLE: MORNING MIRACLE.

My books had arrived. Real books. With real covers. With paper that felt good against your fingertips; it even smelled good. The statistics: 266 pages, 1.2 pounds, 9.5 inches x 6.4 x 1.1.

I do not bring this up in hopes that everyone will rush to their favorite bookstores to buy several hundred copies of "Morning Miracle" for their families, extended families, friends, acquaintances, friends and families of acquaintances, and all ticket-holders in the upper decks of the 30 big league ballparks this season. My buddy Feinstein has that market covered. I mention "Morning Miracle" because a fellow sportswriter sent me an e-mail suggesting it would be interesting to read about the pleasures and terrors of writing a book.

So blame Bill Hunt for this exercise in self-indulgence. He writes for the Daily Gleaner in Fredericton, New Brunswick, Canada. He asked . . .

"What are the days like leading up to release of your book? Are you as nervous as an expectant father? Does it get old, or different as you publish more? Or are you a daily newspaper writer at heart, hoping people notice it and like it and comment on it?"

A. This is my 10th book. The paternity question is apt, because there’s a long time waiting for the appearance of each baby. I proposed this one to the executive editor of The Washington Post in July 2006. I had my last full crack at the manuscript maybe six months ago. An early version of the book – uncorrected proofs known as galleys – came for my reading and for literal last-chance fixes. While I knew the publication date was July 20, I had no idea when I would see real books. For a guy who grew up loving only baseball more than reading, it’s a thrill every time to hold a book he has lived with from conception to delivery. As for "hoping people notice it," anyone who wrote for newspapers for nearly 50 years is forever a daily journalist, no matter his current disguise, and he wants instant feedback, the kinder the better.

Q. "Can you talk about the discipline it takes and the process of writing the book — the research, the weaving of the story, the crafting of the book? Do you write every day, all day, do you need the pressure of an editor pushing you to a deadline…the whole agonizing process?"

A. My first step was gaining access to the Post’s reporters and editors. I next read everything that might have been a model for my book as well as everything that dealt with my subjects, be they historic figures or 21st century high-tech issues. I did hundreds of interviews and spent hundreds of hours hanging around the newspaper and dot-com newsrooms. When I first thought of doing a newspaper book – 15 years ago – I wanted to do the romance, the derring-do, the laughs. That was still my ambition in July 2006. Then all hell broke loose. The collapse of the national economy accelerated the decline of major papers. I had to rethink, rewrite, and redo 80 percent of the manuscript. The finished product isn’t the book I wanted to do, but it was the book that events demanded. It is more elegy than romance. When did I write? If writing occurs even as you’re looking out the window – it does – then for four years I wrote that book every day, all day. The discipline a book requires is easily explained: apply one’s butt to one’s chair, don’t get up.

Q. "How exhausting is the process of writing a book, and what’s it like to sign off on it and realize it’s done? Or do you torture yourself and go through it again and realize you could have done this better or differently or done one more interview?"

A. I was sometimes homicidal, sometimes suicidal, but never exhausted. I love the process. As for torture about what-might-have-been-done-differently, the next time I write something that couldn’t have been done better will be the first time.

Q. How do you react to a favorable — and unfavorable — review?

A. I applaud the geniuses who like the work. To the others, I compose long, detailed responses explaining simply and clearly that they are callow dillweeds.

Q. How often do you check sales?

A. Not yet published, the book is available for early orders on Amazon.com. This morning it ranked 142,467th on the site’s bestseller list. By the afternoon it had moved up to 82,236th, meaning, probably, that one person had bought one book. Feinstein is amused.

By the way, the book is also available for your Kindle.

Sigh.