This is one of those nights where coming up with a blog entry is a bit like pulling teeth. Specifically pulling my own teeth. Without Novocaine. Under a time constraint. This window has been open for nigh on an hour, now, and I'm no closer to having a subject, creatively witty or otherwise.
And I still need to wrap a present tonight. ::sigh:: But maybe I can put that off until tomorrow...
Okay fine, then. Let's talk about the books I've been reading lately- the Mistborn trilogy, by Bradon Sanderson. Are you a fan of fantasy? Specifically "hard" fantasy (ie with a magic system that has internally consistent rules)? How about heist stories, you like those? I'm talking Lies of Locke Lamora here, people. How about good writing? Any of these things up your alley? Well then you should check them out. I'm about halfway through the second book (thanks Jeff!) and I plan to snap up everything else he's written as soon as I can. After all, I still have like ten months before Wise Man's Fear comes out. (What's that? You haven't already read Patrick Rothfuss's brilliant gem of a first novel, Name of the Wind? Let me put it this way- when I finished that book I wanted to cry because I knew I could never craft anything so perfect. So maybe you ought to consider giving it a try. You know, unless you're a puppy-kickin' Nazi. Then I guess I'd understand that you hate joy.)
Sanderson. Rothfuss. These two men have honed their skills to levels I can only dream of. Except... well, not really. I mean, technically speaking if I keep at it I might theoretically hit such pitch-perfect heights, myself (see how I'm making this a totally legitimate post for my writer-ish blog? Manipulation win.) But in order to do so I have to actually write. Which has been a bit lacking, lately.
I have a book that doesn't make much (ie any) of an appearance on here- my I've-been-tinkering-with-it-in-one-form-or-another-for-at-least-five-years book. Last year I got a rush of inspiration and churned out just scads of work on it, but sometime around Christmas I just sort of... stopped. Technically I think it was well before Christmas. I'm sure my editors know (sorry guys). Anyway today I was reading the completely awesome annotations that Sanderson offers online for his books (I will not link them because you need to read the book first, and anyway you can find them easily enough by just going to his website, which I already linked) and admiring how much freaking work goes into building a plausible world and story, and appreciating how much he had to take out and put back in again, and it made me... miss my story (which is currently titled Pahlain). So I think I'm going to make an effort to get back into putting concentrated work into it again. Because I'm never going to be the kind of author that aspiring authors have fan-girl(or fan-boy, I'm not sexist) fits over (let alone the kind of author who actually, um, finishes a book) if I don't bloody well sit down and write it.
Huh. Look at that- guess I had something to write about, after all. (And I finish with a good three-quarters of an hour to spare...)
Cool, post. I'll have to check out some of those books. I myself need to figure out a better system for reading books. I start good, then just kind of wonder away, and then wonder back. There has to be a better way.
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