Tag Archives: books

Four Square Reality

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It’s been awhile since I waxed online about my ventures in writing. I still do it, beyond this sort of medium that is, prolifically. My Mantra in life should be, “Hi, my name is Rebecca and I’m a writeaholic…….” 

This morning I finished a book. Nothing unusual about that right? Well, I find myself mouth agape, eye’s bugging in a not so attractive way and dumbfounded by a sweeping discovery.

I was at the bookstore a week ago and purchased a newly released book that looked appealing. It has the  sort of cover that stops me short and beckons a person in for a closer look. The title was succulent (it has the word river in it) and a quick overview on the back produced content that felt a bit….familiar? I had to purchase it.

So I became the reader (who writes a lot), and started to devour the words of said book. From the beginning to end, I uncovered more and more similarities between what I was reading, and something I have been writing about for sometime..(ouch)..The reading process of this book became a tisk for task. A pro and con situation with potentially disastrous results. I started to wonder, did this author crawl inside my head? Or vice versa, did I somehow channel her thoughts? Not good. Not even salvageable good. So much for thinking one’s idea’s are original, enough. That theory has been officially buried in shit.

It was a good book and NO, I’m not going to say which one it was publicly (google factor). I also have no desire to try and re-work 75,000 words of my own to make my work less, similar. That notion feels like a logistical nightmare. I have other projects I can work on that I haven’t found a fraternal twin to side them up with. (notice I didn’t say identical twin, but fraternal twin is too close for my comforts!)

Here’s the reality of writing a story. Unless you venture into a fantasy world, something supernatural, science fiction, magical or make believe, you are boxed in with plain old simple humanity. When you look at humanity through a writing approach, people and situations are as cliched as the poem roses are red and violets are blue. 

Try to break the mold or redesign reality any way you wish, but when it comes down to it, writers (and humanity if you think about it) carry the responsibility of telling (living) the same stories (over and over) in a new manner. Pulling a mystical Chris Angel to defy the binds of reality and the mold of originality only works if you set the tone of that possibility out the gate. However, that tosses one back into the above mentioned fantasy worlds. Either you make it true to life believable, or you ask a reader to imagine along side you in fantasty world. Break the rules and you’ll get tar and feathered for cheating.

So we who write, try to take the realities of humanity and sew them up in a new squares. The challenge is finding a slice of the  quilt someone else hasn’t already penned a stitch in. This is not as easy as one may think it should be…………..

New HouseKeeping’s.

1) For my blogspot friends, I found and added a Google Friends Connect~~~> over there. I’m not sure if it’s the same as what we have on Blogspot, that is still undetermined, but sign up if you would so I can test it out~
2) Do I look too skinny? As in, someone had emailed and said the font was extremely tiny on their screen. So, I’m trying to figure out if that’s an individual issue, or an over all problem. Input? Font opinion?

Confessions Of A Fraudulent BookShelf

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I randomly plucked dusty books from various locations around my house . I decided a proof positive picture of my book guilt was in order.

<~~~All these books, over there, are unread.

A Fraudulent book impression sprinkled within my bookshelves.

And although no one has asked for a confession of any sort, the burden of my counterfeit book behavior is making me come clean. For the record, since I’m making this official and all, that’s just a small example of my non-read, yet remains on my bookshelves like a used book….. guilt. (there’s always a drop of  ‘someday’ lingering)

I didn’t start off as a guilty poser. Every book I’ve purchased was above board, laced with innocent reading intention and full consumption hope. I’ve never bought a book based on a shallow notion it would look good on my bookshelf. Or thought that,  just by a books mere presence, my overall book stock would go up. However, I have probably bought a book or two, To Read,  just in case…..you know…..someone smart and whip brilliant finds me fascinating enough to say, “Oh, Rebecca, you sound so book knowledgeable, pray tell, what was your interpretation of  Leo Tolstoy’s Anna Karenina.?”

Hey, just when you think it wouldn’t  happen, it would……..

With all that being said,  I can claim to having cracked the spine on every one of those abandoned books. A valiant effort certainly commenced. Each book had it’s chance to wrap it’s arms around me and take me to a new world. Every one of those books bored me to tears until I simply tossed them aside for something a bit more interesting, a bit more entertaining and a lot less monotonous.  

This might be a good moment to mention, so that I don’t come across as (gasp) illiterate, the classics I’m referring to are mainly pre- 1940′s style of writing and living. There are a few I’ve enjoyed, a select few.

Sigh. I feel such shame in my lack of enthusiasm for the majority of classics. I’d like to adhere to the notion that it  takes a certain sort of mind frame, or a unique personality to bask in the (supposed) pleasure of swimming though classics………..Evidently, I do not fall into that category. For those of you that possess the tenacity and virtue to wade through these books….For one, I’m jealous and furthermore, I applaud you, admire you and of course grovel for your understanding and acceptance that not all of us ‘get it’……….

This also concludes all previous ambitions I held of joining a Jane Austen Club. I have a feeling if I tried to sneak into one, those devote Austen souls could sniff out a cliff notes impostor in 10 minutes flat. I’d be flogged before I could say Pride and Prejudice.