Wednesday, 24 February 2010

Well, really!

I mean, come on, how am I meant to follow that?! Just sometimes I wish that other people weren't so talented! Yes, I know that's selfish of me, but I can't help it. I'm jealous - there I've said it! So what?!

I have just finished reading the Books of Pellinor by Alison Croggon, just finished, now, this minute. I have never read a book that made me cry so much, as the Fourth Book of Pellinor did. My god, it was beautiful. Absolutely stunning imagery; visions of landscapes, cityscapes, wastelands, mountainous terrain, valleys with vast rivers cutting through them, terrifying citadels besieged by the Dark, open and exposing plains of despair; characters so richly drawn, so alive and real to me as I read. And the ending was so stunning that I cried, real tears, actually sobbed! I'm left somewhat drained now. Blimey. I did enjoy that adventure. But it's always very difficult to decide what to read next - how can anything compare to the beautiful world that I've been stepping into every night? I don't think it can. As usual, I despair of ever finding anything good to read ever again. But it is always so :) Actually, I'm already thinking that Skullduggery Pleasant might be a good one to start next :D Really, I should never have bought so many books over the past ten years - I should have bought one book at a time, and read it, and then bought another one. Mind you, what difference does it make whether I have to choose a book from my own shelves or one from my beloved Waterstones? There are still too many to choose from!

But then there's my writing (that's my writing, in that photo, there). A while ago, I read in Mslexia, in a list of tips on how to complete a novel (can't remember who by, and haven't got time to trawl through my magazines to find the name) that when writing one should never read anything enjoyable, because it makes a writer
feel inadequate and makes their writing bend to the style of the author they're enjoying. And it is completely true - whenever I get to the end of a book I do feel completely useless as a writer. Why the hell would anyone want to read anything I produce?! Of course they wouldn't. I was an idiot even to think that I could write a short story, let alone a novel. But then I take a hold of myself, give me a good shake, pick up my pen (or keyboard) and get on with it. Stop being so wet Linda! The real trouble is that I always want to abandon my current project and write about stuff that I've just been reading - right now I want to put away my writing about childhood memories, and write an epic tale of horseriding and camping out under the stars, keeping watch for magical and malevolent baddies, fighting the forces of EVIL in an adventure that may lead to the deaths of one or more of the protagonists, maybe finding some dragons along the way, but definitely having some LONG and difficult journeys through mountains, valleys, caves, seas, plains, deserts and possibly snow. I want to write that kind of book. I think they might possibly be the hardest to write. Oh. Not IMpossible though :D I am not deterred. I will do my fantasy thing, one day, I will.

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