I came so close. Yesterday I took two copies of Grace down from the shelf. (I've decided I might as well chop up two copies while I'm at it, so I can use even page numbers from one and odd page numbers from the other). I had the books in my hand and was looking vaguely around for scissors when my compadre said, "I hate the thought of you cutting up a book."
Now I'm back at the beginning. Except it isn't really the beginning, is it? We all know I'm going to take the plunge eventually. The moment has not arrived; that's all.
People's responses are interesting. My friend Nancy in Florida got the scope of the project immediately and has already sent blog information on to friends. Mary Flowers (an old friend, she's in the book) volunteered to rip the book to shreds for me. She's having that kind of week.
Nancy also mentioned that she's about to re-read Fahrenheit 451, the novel about book burnings. I think that idea -- destroying books to curtail the flow of information -- is at the heart of my compadre's discomfort. Then, too, he loves Grace, and he doesn't care how many copies we have in the closet. He's crazy about every single one of them. And he hardly wants to limit my creative endeavors. He's delighted (or perhaps I mean amused) that I've enrolled in Zombie University. I don't know exactly what that experience will have to do with this art project, but I know I'll find a connection.