RANDOM THOUGHTS ABOUT READING AND WRITING FICTION.

And I do mean random. I simply could not decide what to post today soooo, ya get a little bit of everything.

Ever roll your eyes when a person pontificates they only read literary books on the NYT best list? Ha! This article may make you giggle.   http://www.wsj.com/articles/loved-the-novel-about-a-girl-on-a-train-you-may-have-read-the-wrong-book-1447724224 

It’s about THE GIRL ON THE TRAIN and GIRL ON THE TRAIN. Two different books. Hundreds if now thousands of people slogged through almost 500 pages of the second book, hating it, but kept reading because it was…on…the…list.  Snort!

Then, in this article   http://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2015/nov/24/good-books-women-readers-literary-critics-sexism  I learned a new word. Goldfinching. Until last week I called it Book Bullying or Fiction Shaming. It’s when people talk down to others, mostly women, because of their reading choices. The article discusses how critics ignore books people actually read. It suggests the reason is the books are written and read by women.  It’s long but quite entertaining.

And we come to my musings about why I read and write fiction. Easy peasy. It makes me happy.  When reading a book I’m transported to other times and places. Pulled into the story to the point when I go out and about I’m disappointed everyone doesn’t have a Scottish accent and the men aren’t in kilts. Don’t laugh you know what I mean.   

This past year I went on a tear of reading ‘different’. The Insect Farm, Jonathon Mayberry’s bio zombies, YA, and books that pushed the edge of my moral envelope. And…collections of short stories. 

During this past year in many ways my writing style has evolved. The biggest changes came, and will come, from reading the short stories and what I heard another author say. This author said she wasn’t going to write anymore because she couldn’t make any money and she didn’t have any more stories in her. What? You can count her published books on the fingers of one hand and have fingers left over. Zowie!

I opened my new stories file. Eleven stories with pages and or synopsis written that I’ll get to someday. Yeah! Right!  The new ideas folder has four just with an idea for a beginning and end. Then I remembered a note book (you know the kind with paper that you have to make squiggles on with a pen or pencil) where I sometimes jot down ideas.  Three pages of, I have to write this down now because it will be a great story ideas. I’m fond of saying I have a million ideas and occasionally one of them works. No stories left in me is certainly NOT my problem. 

Any how, I had a talk with Myself about why I’m not putting these ideas to use. I won’t go into the discussion details because there was quite the battle with yelling and screaming, some bad language. Suffice it to say Myself and I came to the conclusion most of these ideas will not make a novel but they will make a short, ten to thirty thousand words, story.  Hmmm. Okay. Two short stories in I’m having fun. Actually loving it.  Only down side is I’m not working on my full length novel. Will I ever invite you to read any of my ideas? Dunno. Frankly, I’m kinda dazed and confused with the publishing process right now. I am in such awe of the ladies here and their publishing talents. When I first started writing, a big name author told me if you don’t write with being published in mind you won’t be published.  I keep thinking about that and wonder if writing solely for the joy of it is a big mistake. Am I a writer if it’s not a commercial venture? If I don’t make money?  Would the authors I’ve read the last year keep writing even if they weren’t selling books? Sigh. I’m sure I’ll figure it out evidentially. Until then I’m writing and very much enjoying the process.

Thanks for reading my ramblings.