Sunday I was browsing the book self at a local consignment store wanting a novel in a hurry. I’ve been reading success oriented books, but I miss having an on-going novel. I slid past titles, and opened a few to their first page--put that one back, a second, a third.
What makes us want to read a book?
I’m tired of books that begin with the weather. Or one who’s first line tries to shock me with something so gross it make me want to puke. (Maybe that’s the reason I’m not a publisher.)
It’s strange, isn’t it, that we know good writing when we see it, yet trying to create it in the first place is like trying to push a piano through a transom.
What did I choose? Where Are You Now? by Mary Higgins Clark. Hard cover 49 cents--can’t go too far wrong. I haven’t read any of her books, so I’ll give this one a try. First line: “It is exactly midnight, which means Mother’s Day has just begun.”
That’s clear, time, place. The story is a mystery. A college student disappeared ten years ago, no sign of him, no word, except on Mother’s Day. Once a year he calls his mom to tell her he’s okay.
His sister sets off to find him. That’s all I know.
I hope I’m not procrastinating. I figure, though, I ought to have words and story coursing through my head, even on days when I am counting down on The 90 Day Millionaire Challenge.
I’m on day 21. And this day I’m scared. I read that an agent throws away a manuscript if she finds 5 typos. Can I be accurate enough? Or will I embarrass myself into oblivion? Mom’s letters are sweet, but any typos are mine. My letters to her are embarrassing, uncomfortable. Probably that’s the reason I haven’t published this sooner…