Flogging Hard
I was just saying in the comment trail how when you find art you like, you must flog it mercilessly to everyone you know. Or even people you don't know.
Sometimes, you want to run up and down your street, screaming. Clothes optional. Maybe bolt and pop door to door with book in hand gushing, 'Have you *read* this?'
You can't help yourself. The whole point of stories is sharing them.
You do that when they suck and blow too, but it's not near as fun. Especially when it was a writer who used to make you giddy, and now makes you believe in pod people.
Pod people with a taste for crap.
Anyway, I have done my flogging too well. On the weekend, scouring the bookstore, I discovered *both* Kim Harrison and Lisa Kleypas have gone hardcover.
*insert stab of agony here*
It's such conflicted pain. I'm happy for them. It's a sign of success, and it's more money, and that can make it easier for them to write more. That's good. But I can't afford HCs--even the price of PBs makes me cringe--so I have to wait longer. Sometimes years. While staring at a book I can't have yet. That's bad.
Although, the Kleypas book didn't look interesting, which helped. I loved some of her historicals, but this was modern Texas. Huh.
On the other page, the Harrison book, I didn't dare pick up. Not even to read blurbage. Because I know it would have stayed in my hugging arms, as a sad crazy part of my brain tried to reason that I don't need groceries, I need book.
I also found I had an impossible time finding something else to read. I wasn't being demanding. I just wanted one. *One* book that looked interesting.
I ended up with a tiny stack, where the premise hooked me. But when I cracked them open to read the openers the prose was awful. It was like they'd been assembled by random generator. At least to my brain, they weren't just awkward, they didn't even make sense. It was bizarre.
I did get one book. One! Awk!
Anyhoo, If it turns out to be good, you'll hear more about it, I promise.
My flogging arm will be ready to crack...
Sometimes, you want to run up and down your street, screaming. Clothes optional. Maybe bolt and pop door to door with book in hand gushing, 'Have you *read* this?'
You can't help yourself. The whole point of stories is sharing them.
You do that when they suck and blow too, but it's not near as fun. Especially when it was a writer who used to make you giddy, and now makes you believe in pod people.
Pod people with a taste for crap.
Anyway, I have done my flogging too well. On the weekend, scouring the bookstore, I discovered *both* Kim Harrison and Lisa Kleypas have gone hardcover.
*insert stab of agony here*
It's such conflicted pain. I'm happy for them. It's a sign of success, and it's more money, and that can make it easier for them to write more. That's good. But I can't afford HCs--even the price of PBs makes me cringe--so I have to wait longer. Sometimes years. While staring at a book I can't have yet. That's bad.
Although, the Kleypas book didn't look interesting, which helped. I loved some of her historicals, but this was modern Texas. Huh.
On the other page, the Harrison book, I didn't dare pick up. Not even to read blurbage. Because I know it would have stayed in my hugging arms, as a sad crazy part of my brain tried to reason that I don't need groceries, I need book.
I also found I had an impossible time finding something else to read. I wasn't being demanding. I just wanted one. *One* book that looked interesting.
I ended up with a tiny stack, where the premise hooked me. But when I cracked them open to read the openers the prose was awful. It was like they'd been assembled by random generator. At least to my brain, they weren't just awkward, they didn't even make sense. It was bizarre.
I did get one book. One! Awk!
Anyhoo, If it turns out to be good, you'll hear more about it, I promise.
My flogging arm will be ready to crack...
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