Sometimes you find a brand new reason for loving to live here.
As a writer who writes about unpleasant people, I’m glad I found Gillian Flynn.
I knew nothing about her really, expect that she was popular and my natural snootiness made me think she would be an easy read after a time when I had worn myself out on higher level stuff. Of course, I was wrong.
She writes challenging, damaged but realistic characters in highly dramatic but somewhat realistic situations but they act realistically. Don’t believe me? I guess you grew up in a healthy family. Congrats.
As a writer, what I’ve from her is to loosen up. I’m an uptight guy and that has always shown in my writing. I like to think of it as Hemingway-esque but I’ve learned over the last few years it’s just a tightness. Flynn was able to show a modern, 21st century was of loosening up to open up the characters to the reader, to let in the light and the color of them to illuminate them. I learned a lot.
Starting this week, all my novels will be updated.
The books have been re-edited, I’ve put new covers on them and I’m actually going to release paperbacks for each of them. Keep an eye out for the updates on Amazon here.
So I needed something to read, something easy. Plus I’m a David Fincher fan. Who isn’t? So I decided to read Gone Girl and released Flynn can write. I knew nothing about her. I figure she was one of those pop corn book writers. One of those writers who can crank out mysteries once a year. Nope. She only has three and the depth of character she’s creating with Gone Girl within 15% of this book impressed me (i.e. makes me jealous).
So I downloaded her book Sharp Objects to listen to on my walks…what I hope are my walks. I had my wife take some pictures of me for my Amazon and Facebook pages….and I need to walk…and eat less. So Gillian Flynn will help me through that I hope also.
I’ve recently given up on Faulkner’s As I Lay Dying and Henry James’ A Turn of the Screw. Look, there are only so many hours in a day. And the older you get, the more valuable those hours become to you.
What am I reading now? Well, the days have been getting darker, both literally and figurately so I needed lighter fair. So I’m reading I, the Jury by Mickey Spillane because I was thinking of writing another of my Jake Gibb stories and I’m also reading The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Universe because I never have.
This isn’t my first time reading Faulkner. I’m reading As I Lay Dying now. It’s not one of the hard ones, as if there should be a hard novel. It’s twenties century American English. I’m a twentieth century American English speaker. He was a southern. I am half ‘southern’ and spent a good deal of time ‘down there’. It should come to me easy enough.
But I still need to consult Cliff’s Notes online to ‘get it’. I don’t think that makes me a rube or functionally illiterate. I’ve read older novels from other cultures and enjoyed them. I’ve read dense text books and philosophy and understood them. Maybe Faulkner is just b.s.?
Another pen of fumed eucalyptus and maple with a thin piece of the eucalyptus running the length of the lower section mimicking the ink.
I made these two, rather simple pens out of tiger wood to test a new (to me) gluing method.
I still like them. Also, the glue seems to work better than what I was using.
I’ll admit to having a hero worship for Cormac McCarthy.
Intimidation, if I’m being honest. A decade and a half ago, I read a couple of his books and refused to read any more or to re-read the ones I had for fear of being disappointed in what was to come. I guess it goes along with the rule of never meeting your heroes.
But I finally am now reading All the Pretty Horses. And am a fool for delaying it. The problem for not reading a book when you’re young is that it prohibits you from re-readng a book at different points of your life and comparing it. Books you come to in your twenties are not the same as in your fifties. And the difference reveals to you something about yourself you would have never known otherwise.
But not reading more McCarthy when I was younger, I’ve deprived myself of that.