Now that I’ve bothered several authors for interviews I see a pattern.
You, my dear readers, may give me a hearty “Duh!” but has that ever stopped me from being transparent, real or ditzy? I think not.
What I've discovered is that the voice of the author seems to come through loud, clear and unique in the little exercise of answering my random questions.
I find this cool on several levels.
Level one - a sentence isn't just a noun and verb combo in the hands of a writer. Give a writer a sentence or three nouns to include and expand into a paragraph and you are going to get everything from artistic prose that sums life up in a nutshell and leaves behind wisps of longing, to a sci-fi blend of weirdness that might leave your hair standing on end, and/or a hearty guffaw.
Level two - you get a feel for what kind of prose you'll read if you pick up the book written by said author. With Ray Blackston we got a whole lot of quirk, an area in which he excels. In the next few weeks I'll introduce Robert Liparulo and his paragraph. Whew. Light on the quirk, heavy on the "Oh my!"
Level three - the authors are unique individuals with specific gifts and talents with information that they communicate on such an intimate level that some people are going to get them, love them and devour their books. Others are going to suppress yawns and move on and connect elsewhere. This excites me because it's a reminder that we are fearfully and wonderfully made and that we are one-of-a-kind.
Level four - authors are humans. Most aren't arrogant and unapproachable, just the opposite. They want to hear that their words (which cost them sweat and maybe even some tears) touched other people's lives.
Level five - each of the authors I've "spoken" to are very, very nice. And I think the common denominator might just be Jesus. I love getting to know other believers. It's so good for us to mingle.
Tomorrow, I think I'll talk about book reviews in general. I'll see what falls out when I shake my head, hopefully it will manage to be coherent.
Have a Happy Monday
Change. I've learned to embrace it, ride it out til the end. Sometimes I'm kicking and screaming, other times weeping with my eyes clinched tight. Once in awhile I ride like a dog in a car, head out the window snorting what life has to offer. Mother to young adult children, a marriage of thirty years, and a desert to mountain to valley waltz with God have shaped me into someone I never imagined I'd be. Life is short and I want to live it. Tears, sighs, laughter and change. Every morsel granted to me. Scrambled, shaken or stirred.