titles of books I might never write

I like thinking up new ideas for nonfiction books--you know, essays, polemics, diatribes on whatever bee resides in my bonnet at the time. Rarely do I ever go beyond the catchy title. Perhaps it proves that I am not a writer, as it seems writers have the opposite problem. Pages and pages and chapters flow from their minds, but what to call this conglomeration? Just call me, I'll help. Here are the books I'll write:

• The Perfect Book (on perfectionism. Also proof that I am a perfectionist, as I have not begun the book, since I know it will not be perfect...)
• Motherhood by the Book. Essays on my first year or so of pregnancy and motherhood, and the incredibly ridiculous, unhelpful, panic-inducing advice I found in parenting books.
• Clanging Symbols, which would be a polemic on the vacuity of evangelical aesthetic tastes. It would have a mutilated Thomas Kinkaide painting on the front, perhaps, which would immediately get me sued for all I'm worth and damned by millions of nostalgic religious grandmas.
  

And here is an idea for a horror story that I thought up one night while nursing A:

• The Monitor. A new mom is struggling with the physical demands, emotions and hormones that have overwhelmed her as she takes care of her baby. One day during naptime, she hears voices over the baby monitor--voices that are not her baby, but evil voices and terrifying things that are happening. She rushes up the stairs, finds everything as peaceful as it was when she left. Is the monitor picking up something from the neighborhood, or something that happened long ago, or is she merely delusional with postpartum psychosis? Yes, it's a horrible pitch, but I bet someone could make a silk purse from it.