Editor: We all admire your previous books, and find your platform as an author to be quite impressive. It's wonderful that you bring philosophy into the broader culture! And your current book manuscript doing so is certainly very elegantly written. I enjoyed it immensely. But I'm afraid that there's a problem that prevents our publishing it.

Me: What's the problem?

Editor: There's really nothing new in the book, nothing completely original.

Me: Hmmm. If that were true, why would it be a problem, exactly?

Editor: We publish new books to provide people with new ideas.

Me: Why do you do that?

Editor: Well, to help people solve their problems.

Me: What if that's not the best way to help them do that?

Editor: I don't understand.

Me: You want to provide new answers to old problems - problems people already have, or have had?

Editor: Yes.

Me: Have you ever considered, instead, the very different strategy of providing old answers to new problems?

Editor: What does that mean?

Me: Good. You've asked your first question.

Editor: What?

Me: We're on a roll now. And thank you for asking. I want to address new problems - the next ones that we'll face, the ones that will come our way tomorrow, and next week, and next year.

Editor: Ok. How?

Me: With old answers - ancient wisdom, ideas that have stood the test of time, reliable perspectives and recommendations, the tried and true, the deep and enduring insights that our upcoming problems will require, and that alone can provide the solutions we'll need.

Editor: So, instead of new answers to old problems, you're giving old answers to new problems?

Me: Yes.

Editor: Well, that is indeed original, and new.

Me: You think?

Editor: I do, but we still can't publish anything like that.

Me: You can't?

Editor: No. But, good luck with it. It deserves a great home.

Me: Thank you.

Editor: You're welcome.