Once upon a time, a blogger couldn’t find anything she wanted to read. So she did the unthinkable, and asked the good citizens of the internet for advice. This is about the only time this year you’re going to get a happy ending to a real-life story involving social media and human beings, so you may as well read what happened next.
In January I shocked the world by reviewing the Year In Books 2017 before any of it had already happened. I am now reviewing my review in an even more reflective piece which is not to be mistaken for the kind of end-of-year filler posts one sees around this time where bloggers go over what they already said because they’re too drunk to provide new content. Merry Christmas!
Sometimes a little bit of space can give you more perspective than a Renaissance painting. This is a pretty way of saying that I’ve been travelling, I’ve been thinking a lot, and the implications of that may cause more harm than good. For starters, I’m being prolific. And I think we can agree that nothing good can come of me having lots to say.
It’s HIGH CONCEPT JOKE TIME! A group of unfashionable narrative techniques attend their weekly support group, unaware that impending disaster is about to tear their world apart. Can the Omniscient Third Person Narrator refrain from commenting on everyone else? Will the Prologue From The Future ever get to finish? And will One-Liner Bob get to have the last laugh?
It is a little-known fact that the old trope of a piano falling on someone’s head was inspired by every Irish person ever who felt proud of themselves for even five minutes. In this post I deal with misplaced pride, indie publishing scams, bogus bestsellers, my difficult childhood, and why if you want to be original, you should never read anything written by anyone else. Ever.
It’s time you stopped blaming that book you wrote or recommended for the fact I didn’t like it. It’s time you started blaming me instead. With a little help from quantum physics, I explain why loving any book is a miracle, why my bad mood became your problem, and why writing a book is like putting an unseen cat in a poisonous box.
Amazon’s algorithms don’t like the concept of General Fiction. If books are being sold more on the basis of genre than content, is content changing to suit genre fads? I think so. And if you’ve ever read a book which promised something it didn’t deliver, or seemed like two different plots or styles clumsily slapped together, you might think so, too.