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God save us from the thought police
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Via Jennifer Weiner's blog comes the following "article":
EIGHT REASONS WHY CHICK LIT AUTHORS SHOULD BE KICKED UNTIL THEY'RE DEAD, by someone bravely writing under the pseudonym of Haitlin Louboutin. The article itself is entirely vapid and deserves no comment. However, in the comments, one of the contributors says:
How many times have we heard this kind of argument? Basically, it says that, rather than supplying what customers want to read, bookstores should supply only what is considered to be suitable reading by a self-appointed panel of narrow-minded snobs.
We've heard the same arguments aimed at Dan Brown, Stephen King, J.K. Rowling and now the bitter-net's latest hate-child, "John Twelve Hawks".
It's fairly simple. If you want the bookstores to stock different books to the ones they do, then you'd better write books that people want to read more than the books by these authors. Don't try to force people to read things they don't want to read. Write what you want to write, and write it so well that the readers will demand it. Easy.
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I managed to get stung by (probably) a bee yesterday. I didn't see what it was, but it was phenomenally painful. My knuckle swelled up to the size and colour of a cherry, and I could hardly move my hand. It was probably the most painful thing that has ever happened to me. Maybe in terms of instantaneous pain, smashing a toenail off or burning your hand is worse, but the bee(?) sting is the gift that just keeps on giving. For about 12 hours, the pain didn't significantly change. Ouch.
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On Sunday, I finished the latest draft of The Sleepers, which led to brief celebration followed by the "oh shit" feeling of "what do I write now?" I've got the beginning of what will probably be the next novel, but I don't really have the central ideas nor the main character. I have an opening situation and some good supporting characters, but...
It's always a shock when you have to start a book. Isn't it supposed to get easier?
EIGHT REASONS WHY CHICK LIT AUTHORS SHOULD BE KICKED UNTIL THEY'RE DEAD, by someone bravely writing under the pseudonym of Haitlin Louboutin. The article itself is entirely vapid and deserves no comment. However, in the comments, one of the contributors says:
The problem with chick lit is that it squeezes out other stuff off the shelves. Have you been to a suburban bookstore recently? Between chick lit, home design and tax advice crap, there's no room for anything actually worth reading.
How many times have we heard this kind of argument? Basically, it says that, rather than supplying what customers want to read, bookstores should supply only what is considered to be suitable reading by a self-appointed panel of narrow-minded snobs.
We've heard the same arguments aimed at Dan Brown, Stephen King, J.K. Rowling and now the bitter-net's latest hate-child, "John Twelve Hawks".
It's fairly simple. If you want the bookstores to stock different books to the ones they do, then you'd better write books that people want to read more than the books by these authors. Don't try to force people to read things they don't want to read. Write what you want to write, and write it so well that the readers will demand it. Easy.
I managed to get stung by (probably) a bee yesterday. I didn't see what it was, but it was phenomenally painful. My knuckle swelled up to the size and colour of a cherry, and I could hardly move my hand. It was probably the most painful thing that has ever happened to me. Maybe in terms of instantaneous pain, smashing a toenail off or burning your hand is worse, but the bee(?) sting is the gift that just keeps on giving. For about 12 hours, the pain didn't significantly change. Ouch.
On Sunday, I finished the latest draft of The Sleepers, which led to brief celebration followed by the "oh shit" feeling of "what do I write now?" I've got the beginning of what will probably be the next novel, but I don't really have the central ideas nor the main character. I have an opening situation and some good supporting characters, but...
It's always a shock when you have to start a book. Isn't it supposed to get easier?
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