"Looks like I picked the wrong week to quit sniffing glue." - Lloyd Bridges

Sunday, April 20, 2008

Unfinished Fiction

My latest foray into questionable literture got my wheels turning. I have always wanted to write a novel, but I tend to start alot of things and then, before seeing them through to completion, move on to something else. It is with that in mind that I bring you "Unfinished Fiction". A collection of beginnings to novels that after a page or two (or a couple of paragraphs) end up shelved due to: boredom, laziness, lack of creativity, lack of plot, ADD, planetary alingment, etc. Take your pick. I have created this as a private web log, so if you're interested in getting hooked on a good read (very subjective) only to find out the story abruptly stops in the middle of page one, post a comment here with your email address and I'll add you to the list. Enjoy!

Wednesday, April 9, 2008

Shame On You Oprah

I am always hesitant to pick reading material at random due to the fact that most authors out there seem to have minds that would be better suited to sending in anonymous letters to Penthouse Forums, than to contributing anything good and wholesome to the literary world. It is with that in mind that I picked up a copy of Oprah's Book Club latest pick, "The Pillars of the Earth" By Ken Follett from the local Costco. After all, Oprah is nothing if not good and wholesome, right? And any book she recommends must meet those same standards, correct? And how could any one turn a tale of building medieval cathedrals into anything but good, clean, wholesome storytelling? I guess I should have known that to make a story about building cathedrals interesting would take more than describing the minute details of 12th century brick laying techniques. Ken Follett must have known this would not hold the readers interest either and instead chose to focus on other apparent "hobbies" of medieval Brits. I guess I'll have to stick to the likes of John Grisham, who's work, while usually dull and a little depressing, will spare the reader from feeling the need to shower afterwards. Call me a prude, an uncultured swine, but I fail to see the "culture" in putting down on paper what any male with an ounce of testosterone could conjure up on his own.