Epiphanies of a Pseudo Author

I'll never be a real author. Every book I've ever read on writing talks about that desire to write every day. Daily writing seems to be as necessary as a cup of coffee in the morning to most real writers. It seems that to them, going through a day without writing would be like going through a day without using the bathroom.

That's not me.

I love writing. I love making up new worlds (more accurately, small towns, rather than entire worlds) full of quirky characters and interesting events that set the characters into motion. But I don't feel the desire to do it every day. I can go months without writing a single sentence, though during that time I will have read as many books as I can, taking note of how this author works her dialog or how another author describes a rainy day in his fictional city. I feel like I'm teaching myself to write, though I'm not putting down a single word on paper.

Just today, I started the notes for my next novel. The idea has been bouncing around in my head for well over a year now, but just today did I have an "A-HA!" moment that started turning the gears in my brain. I had the characters, I had the general idea of a plot, but both were floating around in a misty limbo because I just couldn't find a place to put them. For some reason, while munching on some hummus and pretzels this afternoon, the uniting force to just popped into my head, so I grabbed the notebook I'd bought specifically for this novel, and I started writing ideas down. It felt good.

Why am I bothering to work on this idea if I have no intentions of ever doing anything with it? I don't know. It's fun. It gives me a sense of accomplishment. Besides, I have this need to write another book, taking my time, and making it far more superior to my first (which, btw, I have decided not to even bother editing because I just don't feel it), which greatly lacked quality in the areas of mechanics and plot transitions. But it was a learning experience because it proved to me that I was capable of creating a full-length novel, no matter how bad it was. And the first one had some pretty great character development, if I do say so myself!

I'll never be a "real" author like Mame. That woman is a star that the publishing world's telescope just hasn't managed to focus on yet. I will probably never have the drive like she does to polish off a work and make it readable to the public. I don't think I'll ever find the courage to try to sell myself to agents in hopes someone likes what they see. Being a real writer is work, and it's a calling. I, on the other hand, am like the actor in the local little theater production or the softball player on his company's summer league. I do it for the fun, with no aspirations of making it to Broadway or MLB. I understand my limitations, but I also know that it doesn't hurt to practice, to have fun with my hobby, and to spend time inside my head pretending that I'm the next undiscovered phenomenon. Things like that are what keeps life fun, right?

Hello. My name is Daisy, and I'm a vampoholic.

You see this lady. She looks innocent. Sweet. Grandmotherly. Right?

Well BEWARE!!! She's a smack-pusher. A tease. And I gladly shell out $3-$6.99 for her junk (depending whether I can find it at the used bookstore or not).

For those of you who don't know her face, this is Charlaine Harris, author of the Southern Vampire Mysteries, aka Sookie Stackhouse Series, aka the books on which the HBO show True Blood was based.

I started out watching the show, as I am a lover of most things vampire: The Lost Boys, Buffy, Angel, and even Saturday the 14th. I say "most" because I still can't force myself to read the Twilight series, as my well-trusted book friends tell me that *I* personally would not enjoy the book due to the poor writing style of the author. I trust those friends (and Stephen King). But this blog isn't about Twilight, it's about Ms. Harris.

My friend Jen started reading the books before the show even came out. She told me I had to read them, as she knows my love for the supernatural. I made myself wait until the first season of the TV show was over before I started reading them. Of course, after that, much like everyone else I know, I devoured the entire set. I was sucked in by the supernatural world mixed with a mystery theme mixed with hot vampire sex. Think Buffy and Spike. THAT is how hot these vamp romps are. Okay, maybe not THAT hot, but pretty close. Just a word of advice, don't loan them to Grandma unless your grandma is Shel's Nana--haha!

Admittedly, these will never be classic works of literature. They are entertaining, easy to read, and tell a good story. Harris' writing isn't bad, it's just simple. I know people of all education levels who read these books and love them. She appeals to southerners because her portrayal of the characters and of the setting are accurate and might cause nostalgia in those who have ever lived in the South. She appeals to those who love the supernatural because she creates a thoroughly fascinating world of vampires... and shifters... and... oh, I don't want to ruin anything! She appeals to mystery fans because every story has a whodunnit aspect to it as well as not-so-easily predicted resolutions. I'm so glad I bought this series, as I can see myself reading it over and over again, just like I've already watched True Blood Season 1 a few times!

The only problem with this addiction is that the poor woman can only write so many books (though she's been putting them out since the mid-80's, as I just finished her debut novel). When I finished Sookie, I moved to Aurora Teagarden, and to Lily Bard, and soon to Harper Connelley (though I am afraid to read that last one as it seems similar to an idea of a book I want to pen myself!). But those weren't vampire books. I also found myself picking up I'm the Vampire, That's Why by Michele Bardsley, which is nothing more than a cliche romance novel that happens to take place in a fictional town in Oklahoma... but it's about vampires!!!

Who knows if my obsession will continue. Maybe one day I will get desperate enough to try to choke down the Twilight books, but I'm okay for now. After all, today I picked up the 8th Sookie Stackhouse book, which just came out in paperback.

P.S.
Among the Southern Vampire Mysteries Series readers, there seem to be two camps: Bill Lusters or Eric Lusters. I know our own Java is an Eric woman, as is my friend Jen. I, however, remain true to Bill. There's just something about a damaged man with a heart of gold, that is, if vampires are capable of having golden hearts. I also think it's because of the TV series. Stephen Moyer is SO much hotter than Alexander Skarsgard (sorry Jen!).