I’m having a lot of fun writing my book. It’s a good thing, too, because I am on an unusually long streak of reading Brad Pitt books.
Those are the books that everyone else seems to go on about how wonderful they are, how much they love them, how they’re the best book ever. And then you pick it up and it’s just one long hard slog. You keep reading because you know that either somewhere in there is some truth you’ll discover if you just keep turning the page or else you are one sick puppy who is obviously broken.
It’s the same way I feel about Brad Pitt’s alleged sexiness. I know it must be there on some level because a billion people can’t be wrong. Can they? But like Bernard Cornwell and Jane Austen I just can’t find the hotness, no matter how hard I try.
In an effort to read SOMETHING that engaged me, I was on the Amazon forums yesterday when I came across that usual statistic about how basically it’s easier to get struck by a lightning bolt which has bounced off the left breast of a one-eyed Lithuanian woman named Ethel than it is to get published. It made me want to slit my wrists, and then I realised that I now know a lot of published authors. And no offense to any of them but I have to say that the ones I know personally, quasi personally and through emails and blogs are NOT HAVING ANY FUN WRITING. At all. Some of them seem to be having fun getting on Facebook and telling people they are Published Authors. Others seem to be having fun passing out giveaway copies of their book on Goodreads and a few enjoy blogging about writing. But each and every one of them, bar none, seems like a person who signed a Faustian bargain they’d much rather be shot of.
Don’t get me wrong. I’d love to sign a contract that says someone will print my book and then I’d love to walk into a bookstore, saunter over to the Cs in the Fiction stacks and start surreptitiously facing out all my copies. That’d be a gas. But I’m not so sure how I’d feel about the knowledge of a looming deadline for a second and third book, turning my outlet and solace into the world’s most verbose dental appointment.
Oh well. Guess I’ll worry about finishing this one, this book I am currently in love with, first. It hit me recently, a perfect pearl of a story that fused together several partial ones that are sitting on my hard drive in a new and interesting direction. If you are a writer at all I insist that you never ever take reading for granted. Because nothing will help you more than reading what is already out there. You’ll take away after awhile an instinctive knowledge of what works and what publishers want. And that can only help you in the long run.