Sunday, January 18, 2004 Brain food
Today I broke down and got a certain much-hyped book on Writing. It's proabbly a waste, since I've read half the thing in the bookstore over the course of various visits. I keep getting interested in it, and then hating it.
The author is clever, and keeps popping out with cute observations. She might be edgy. I don't know how to handle that in flesh and blood people, and I feel like I shouldn't have to handle it in print people. Print people should never, ever project the air that they are about to give you a playful sock in the arm.
I'm making some pretty broad assumptions, but I imagine this author as being petite. I'm never fully at ease around the petite and energetic, even though I'm not really so huge and slothful as I could be. When I'm exposed to this type of person, I have visions of the Lilliputians tying down Gulliver, and border collies running over the backs of sheep.
When these border collies are yipping about how it's totally OK to write reams and reams of crap, because these will somehow resolve themselves into quality fiction after the gentlest of editorial touches, and when these border collies mention that they knew they would be writers, because they have always been natural storytellers, I feel the need to bellow with inarticulate rage and fear, and lash out with my mighty paws.
Natural storytellers! Feh! Let 'em write in to the Readers Digest.
I like unnatural stories.
Still, I got the book. posted by Frenz | 1/18/2004 01:09:00 AM
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