Last year, I heard a published author say that she never reads books. All she does is write. I immediately marked her off as an ugly dog booksauthor that I will read. How can writers not read other authors? It’s arrogant to think at any point we don’t need to learn from other works. Her statement was so unbelievable that I couldn’t forget it. I’ve tried to look at it from other perspectives trying to understand the rationale. I even tried it. I went two months without reading other authors to see if that spurred me on to novel completion. It didn’t.

Reading other authors helps me understand what I like and don’t like about certain styles of writing. It also gives me ideas about transitions, escalating plots, resolution and the ever-present quandary of showing not telling.

You’ve heard the quote, “never trust a skinny chef.” I’m wondering if we should trust a non-reading writer?

Your thoughts.

Karen

 

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bumper stickers2Sitting in traffic behind this car I was flooded with writing ideas. Which one of my characters would drive this car? Did they add the stickers or did they come on the car? How can a person believe in all of these causes at once? Or was each one the belief of the month? What if this car was in a wreck, could they separate the damage from the mangled bumper stickers? What does the driver look like? Are they young? Are they old? Clean-cut or sloppy?

You decide.

 

writermeme

boy cryingJimmy was the youngest of six kids. When the county fair came each kid was given money for rides and games. When it was gone, it was gone. Jimmy was too short for most of the rides other than the merry-go-round, which he was quickly board with. He wanted to ride with his brothers and sisters, but he was too tall. While mom watched us kids, dad would always scoop Jimmy up and take him to play the games. He always seem to come home with a prize. None of us could ever figure out how. Our money didn’t last long enough to knock the right pins down or land the ring on the peg.

 

 

birthday cakeAlice finished the Y on the birthday cake. It was perfect. Placing it gently on the table she quietly called the rest of the family around the table. Emily, the mopey teen-ager was convinced that middle child syndrome had set in again and they had forgotten her birthday. No amount of encouragement from her mother changed that. With a final adjustment to the gifts and cake, with her brother and sister standing by with balloons Emily was called downstairs. “What!” As she stomped down the steps to be stopped in her tracks by the site.

 

your dinner

The doctor said the aquarium would help Fred relax. Having it set up in his office with fish he enjoyed. Some he had seen on diving trips. aquarium_care_03Yea, diving trips. Maybe watching the fish swim just reminded him of too many things.