A funny thing happened when I became a blogger. I communicated with published authors. How cool is that?
Prior to my blogging days, Stephen King never tweeted me. Chris Bohjalian never commented on my blog. Sue Grafton never tossed a blogger award my way. Barbara Kyle never…oh, wait…she did visit my blog. And gave away signed books to boot!
Despite the ongoing absence of Stephen, Chris, and Sue, others have come my way. They might not be famous. Yet. I might not have met them in person. Yet. But I’ve connected with them in the electronic world, which, for an introvert, pretty much is the world.
And what an honor it’s been.
Recently, I read I Am Cara by Frederick Anderson. In its post-apocalyptic world, only a few men remain, and those who do are abused or hunted. Ouch. A theme like that really yanks those vulnerable testosterone chains. Kudos to Mr. Anderson for even going there. Kudos also for crafting sentences that filled me with delight as a reader but cloaked me in envy as a writer. Yeah, I’ll admit it. I got a wee bit jealous. In his blog, he mentions he’ll soon embark on a journey to find an agent. To that I suggest he pack no more than bottled water and a power bar, because he’ll likely reach his destination quickly.
So, besides a world without men—Oh dear, who would track down the beeping, battery-deficient smoke alarm in the middle of the night? Who would carry my bag in the airport? Who would wipe bird poop off my Prius? Who would bring me chocolates?—what other realms have I entered?
Other Blogging Buddies’ Books I’ve Read. In the Reverse Order I’ve Read Them (In Case You Care. Which I’m Sure You Don’t.):
In Eyes of Light by Charissa Statsny, I romped with drug lords and Mormon missionaries. Not bad for a woman my age. But I’ll never admit to the number of pages it took me to realize the word “Elder” was a male missionary title and not a character’s name. Let’s just say NASA won’t be calling me any time soon.
In Mean-Spirited Tales by Sandee Harris, short stories of ghosts and foot freaks and decapitated heads sweetened my pink-confectionary world. And yes, I’m being sarcastic. And yes, Sandee, I like the way your mind works.
In Dance of Souls by Audrey Kalman, a mother, a son, a teacher, and a filmmaker wormed their way into my thoughts, compelling me to reread sentences, not because I’m daft (no comment, please), but because Ms. Kalman uses words like an artist uses paint— Bellissimo!
In Casting Stones by G.M. Barlean, a ruthless villainess wadded my undies in a bunch, leaving my heart–not to mention my fanny–aching for the family who suffered her torment. In fact, I went so far as to tie this author up in my cellar for an interview. Don’t worry. I let her go. After all, every one loves a happy ending.
In A Series of Adjustments by J.J. Kearbey, dark and dramatic short stories took root in my brain—from miscarriage and abortion to depression and heartache. Oh, and Grandma got her toe chopped off by a Nazi.
So there you have it. Eight books, eight writers, eight authors—all of with whom I’ve connected. And I have more lined up in my queue.
For a women who loves her books, it doesn’t get much better than that.
What books from blogging buddies have you read? Or, what was the last book you read? Did you get jealous? Have you ever worn a dunce hat?
All images from Microsoft Clip Art
After I wrote this post, I started A Warm Wind by Erin French. Though I’m only a few pages into this enticing read, I’m enormously relieved the characters’ marriage is not my own. Mr. Rubin would be, too.