For a much as I read, you’d think the words would—I don’t know—TOUCH me more often than they do.
It’s the end of October and my Goodreads Reading Challenge counter tells me I’ve read 100 books so far this year.
And in all that reading, how many books have made me laugh out loud (I mean REALLY laugh, not a generic LOL)? How many made me cry? How many—to put it frankly—made me feel anything at all?
Precious few.
Every now and then, there IS a book that makes me sit up and take notice and say to myself, “Wow. I wish I could write like that.” But it doesn’t happen often.
Like so many people these days (I hope!), I find myself starved for any glimmer of talent, constantly wishing I could spot some accomplishment that seems extraordinary, larger than life—not just in writing, but in ANY aspect of human existence.
So much today seems mundane, boring, not even worth of notice.
Most of the books I read are exactly the same: barely worth the paper (or screen) they’re printed on. They’re loaded with grammatical errors and typos (even those produced by the big publishing houses—shame on you, Big Five!), and the stories are trite and pointless. And because I read so much, I can’t help but wonder if I’m wasting all that time.
Here’s the thing: I work my butt off: with my writing, with my editing, with pretty much everything I do. Yet I fully recognize that I will never be one of those rare geniuses I’m searching for—which, really, makes it all the more depressing that I can’t seem to find anything out there that’s . . . well . . . genius.
And sure, there are books and authors I love, such as my fellow Blydyn Square Books author Everett De Morier, for instance; or novelist Chris Bohjalian, whose books often make me gasp out loud (would that be GOL?) at some unexpected plot twist; or Jen Lancaster, who never fails to make me pee my pants just a little because I laugh so hard.
But, as seems to be the case in all facets of life nowadays, these glimpses, these moments of awe and wonder at someone else’s pure talent, are much too few and far between.
But I’m keeping my eyes open.
