The November 20th NaBloPoMo prompt was "Do you have a book in you? Fact or fiction? Related to your blog, or totally different from it?" I'd have answered it then, but I had more important things to write about.
I was struck by how strange the wording was. The only other time I've heard someone use the phrase "book in you" was when I was graduating from college and my mother told me she believed I had a book in me. This may be one of the most supportive things she has ever said to me. It turns out I did. They called it a dissertation, and it went out in a limited run (two copies, although today you can access it online with the right databases).
But I have had other book ideas. I had a friend tell me that he loved my list for that "25 Random Things about Me" that was going around on Facebook several years ago, and that he would buy notes if I could get a contract to write them. How many Random Things About Me would it take to fill a book? I also thought you might, might, be able to write a novel entirely in lists. I started sketching that one out, but like so many of my great ideas it's still in my head.
For a while there, people were getting contracts to write blog-like essay-filled books. I could do that. And there's the idea for the "Stitcher's Life List" kicking around in me.
So the books might be inside me, but they have a hard time getting out.