The last day of the holidays; the first day of the year. I’ve been reading mostly and not succeeded too well in starting my healthy life: pizza, potato chips, soda and no unnecessary steps. But it’s still the holidays and one can’t start a new life during the holidays. Right? I’ll start tomorrow.
I’ve been reading books today as I said, and wondering what makes a good book. These two that I’m thinking about are easy to read, entertaining, but I know I will forget them in absolutely no time. Especially when reading the first one I couldn’t help but think that I could probably produce something equally good. And then, of course, I got immediately struck by the doubts. Dear woman, are you a delusional egomaniac?! That book got published, it even got translated, someone must have thought it was worth it! Perhaps that is what bothers me. That if I am worse than her then I seriously do suck at writing. That if I am better then I have to stop making excuses and start writing for real.
Of course it isn’t always a question of being worse or better or even as good. Sometimes it is a question of the supply meeting the demand. An x number of people have a fondness for a “Bridget Jones” meets “Sex in the city” -style books even if they are second-rate versions. An x minus y number of people probably have a fondness for my style, which tends somewhat towards cynicism. Or even worse, in my early writings it tended towards pink, fluffy, everyone-has-to-love-everyone –worlds. I’d probably bore myself.
Hmmm, hmm, hmm, I'm getting ideas again, but I think it's too late to think anymore tonight. I'll watch some TV now and consider ideas later.