I don’t normally write posts to push someone else’s book, least of all if they’re not a close friend.
This post merits attention for another reasons: someone found a way to get around my “I don’t have time to read your books” (which is not an excuse, but the absolute truth. I’m now falling down in my duty as a mentor to several people, including husband and soon to be daughter in law.) He sent me an audio book. So take this as read that I’m slightly influenced towards him by being given an audio book. Read more
There are handicaps I labor under as a writer. Okay, the gentleman that just said lack of native talent can stay after class to clean the blackboards. It’s probably true mind you but not as important as most people think. My life, from learning foreign languages to writing is a testimony to the fact that a sufficient amount of hard work can overcome any lack of native talent.
No, my big handicap is that there were so few genres I loved as a kid. Or perhaps I should say so few subgenres. Read more
I confess I have a problem with … well, life in general. I bore easily. This is why I have about ten different projects started (I do usually finish them one bit at a time.) and write and read in many different genres. I also do things like walk away from boring conversations before I realize I’m doing it.
And some years ago I started doing that with books. Not just “worthy” books, though that was a great part of it, but also (even) my popcorn books. The last big batch of mysteries I bought used before I went fully electronic for fiction were mostly unread. Not unopened, but I realized halfway through reading (I thought) one of them that I’d actually been reading two of them and they were so similar I didn’t notice until it hit me the names were wrong. (I had one in the bedroom and one in the bathroom, and since folding down a corner gives husband cold sweats, and I can never find bookmarks, I was finding the page by memory.) Read more
This writing thing is not precisely scary. I mean, you’re never going to break a leg. Or two. Or freeze working out in the snow, because you are just too tired to walk back home.
And yet… and yet sometimes you fall and you can’t get up. Read more
I recently had minor surgery (at least assuming that the stuff sent to the pathologist comes back clear, it will stay minor) and am experiencing one of the very rare side effects of the anesthesia used.
This is fairly normal. I mean that I experience the rare side effects, not the effect itself, which apparently strikes one in several million: I’m suffering from hypogeusia. Read more
Before you ask, as someone did “Sarah, why are you writing all these short stories when you could be writing novels?” I am not writing all these short stories. I have written all these short stories, some of them a decade or more ago. Read more
I won’t say I always read. I was a sickly kid, and I remember the long days of childhood before I could read. In those days, where antibiotics were available but the traditions for treating sickness hadn’t changed yet, I was kept confined and usually in bed at the slightest fever. I was the only small kid in the family and the cats weren’t allowed around me when I was ill. My much older brother was busy with school and friends, and only occasionally had any substantial time to read to me. Our parents both worked.
I must have spent a cumulative few years building improbable lego things and telling myself stories. And then I learned to read. Read more