“Oh, hi, Sid. It’s not finished yet.”

“Hey, did I say anything about a book?”

“You’re my literary agent. Why else would you be calling? But it’s just not finished.”

“You’ve been saying that for the past five years, Ed. Can you at least tell me what it’s about?”

“It’s about my family, Sid. It’s about growing up in northern Norway. It’s about chasing badgers and shooting beavers. It’s about hot saunas and amputating frostbitten toes. It’s about life, Sid.”

“Screw life. You’re a concert novelist, Ed. One of the best.”

“I know. But not this time. Next book, Sid.”

“What’s with this ‘next book’ crap, Ed? Your fans want another book filled with intrigue, murder and backstage passes, like The Booking Agency or The Concert Promoter. Not some self-indulgent tome about moose and ice cubes.”

“Sorry, Sid, but I just don’t have it in me. I have to write this book.”

“Well, can you at least mention some concerts? Like My Morning Jacket or The Dead?”

“No can do, Sid. We didn’t have concerts where I grew up.”

“But what about the radio? Surely you listened to the radio when you were a kid. Can’t you talk about the acts you heard on the radio? Like Vanilla Ice, R.E.M. or Chicago?”

“Afraid not, Sid. If you want another book filled with famous bands and artists like David Lee Roth and Bad Religion, you’re going to have to get someone else to crank it out. Grisham, maybe. Or Clancy.”

“Grisham? Clancy?? Heck, Ed, they’re nothing but hacks. I need you to write another concert thriller, something that will shoot to the top of the best seller list. Like that last one, The Tour Accountant. Now, that was a book.”

“I just don’t have it in me. Next book, Sid. Next book.”

“But what am I gonna tell the studios, Ed? What am I gonna tell Universal and Paramount when they come sniffing around for the movie rights? That my star author is writing a book about a bunch of isolated inbreds freezing their tails off?”

“Oh, stop your groaning, Sid. It’s a great book.”

“Sure it is. Ice, snow, and frozen toilet seats. I’m sure the fans will eat it up.”

“It’s more than that. It’s about a young man’s quest as he leaves his home to venture out into the world. It’s about seeking truth, Sid. It’s about righting wrongs, defending the weak and fighting for peace. It’s about the never ending circle of good vs. evil.”

“Sounds epic, Ed, but can you at least mention a few stars? You know, just to satisfy all the fans that bought your stuff during the hungry years? Maybe work in The Donnas or Mary Prankster?”

“Sorry, Sid, but it just wouldn’t work.”

“Wait a sec. Didn’t you mention saunas? How about throwing a few Pissing Razors in the sauna? That should make for some suspense.”

“Well… maybe.”

“That’s the spirit, Ed. Just a few bands to keep in touch with your fans. By the way, what are you gonna call this book about freezing your tail off in northern Norway, this frigid circle of good and evil?”

“I’m not sure. How does Fjord Of The Rings sound?”