One of the things that makes me me… is, well, an unhealthy obsession with reading. I read a lot. We’re talking major donations to my favorite charity: Barnes & Nobles.
And I’ve started to infect my son. When he goes potty (number 2, thank you very much), he likes for me to read him a book or three. Because, you know, he can’t read yet. (And yes, I am REALLY WORKING HARD ON CHANGING THAT) Last weekend, we wrote a story together. If you’re good, I’ll include it at the bottom of the post.
My reading is eclectic but I’m a very demanding reader. Don’t bore me. Cuz I’ll put you down and never pick you back up again. Life is too short for bad books. I read fantasy, dark fantasy, historical romance, chick lit, mystery, historical, classics and apparently, now I’m reading something they call steam-punk. It’s fun 🙂
Notice a theme up there? How many non-fiction genres did you find up there? Hmm? I like my nonfiction in magazines and newspapers (and maybe the occasional gossip rag)– bite sized pieces. Sometimes the occasional book of essays, but bite sized people. Small bits. If I want real life in my life, I’ll go play with my son.
I picked up, at my last forray to my charity auction, a book called Fiction Ruined my Life by Jeanne Darst. A great read, a little uncomfortable to read in places. It reminded me of a feminine Catcher in the Rye , only a bit more wrong. Very very wrong, even as I was laughing so hard I might have snorted a bit. I got all the way through the book, having a love hate with the narrator and her views on writers, right up until the very last page.
When she talks about having to show the manuscript to her father.
REALLY? Am I that obtuse? Because, you know, the name on the front of the book is IN FACT the same name of our plucky heroine. And in teeny tiny letters between the title and the author name rest the words “A memoir” .
Kind of makes my views on writing seem a lot too tame, I am perfectly willing to work a real job, I do not want to suffer for my art (or anything else, thank you very much).
Of course, my list of credits includes the following, co-written by a five year old boy. Bon Apetite!
My Mom Ate my Alien
My alien is small, but I am big.
He is green and looks like a double peanut M&M.
Mom popper him in her mouth.
He went crunch.
Mom said “Yumm”.
Momma ate my alien.