As a (relatively) unknown author, I find myself drawn to the narratives of other similarly situated writers. This most basic form of commiseration is, ironically, a solitary thing. The common lament, never shared commonly, results from a form of forced anonymity.
It’s nice to perforate the wall of writer’s isolation: the common barrier that keeps us all bound within the house of anonymity. Sometimes, in a very small way, I’ll take the time to support the expectations of the other ones, sitting alone at their writing desks.
Last week my “Beelzebub’s Bargain” was ranked 42,000 on Lulu. That’s not as good as one might think it is. The book is entirely unranked on Amazon.
When I put a book on my need-to-read list, I pick it from a different place than the arbiters of the Best Seller’s list. What’s wrong with an independent opinion, after all?
This week, my choice for an independent opinion is “The Still Life of Hannah Morgan,” by Lora Deeprose. I found her book by mining the deep and less well lit places. I was attracted to her own story, as much as to the book. The excerpt is at:
The intro did not strike me as extraordinary, but the excerpt prompted my interest because it was so slice-of-life. Mundane, yet interesting. Creation of such a thing is the real talent of a writer.
I’m hoping to set aside time to read this one very soon….
Finally, I procured the book from Amazon. After reading it, I put it in firmly into the “chick book” category (similar to chick movies, but different). I’ve recommended it to some female acquaintances.