A blank blog is even worse.
I thought I'd start this particular blog with a quote, something really literary. (Anyone who knows me is already laughing. Literary?)
My writing is about as far from literary as you can get. Like, out in the remainder bin, on the sidewalk outside of the store. But here's how one person defines the genre of literary fiction (which, incidentally, is supposed to be the anti-genre. Go figure. I can't.): "...fiction that is of higher quality, richer, denser, or, as the literary fiction book club states, work that 'can make us uncomfortable or can weave magic.''
Uncomfortable? I can write that. (Hey! I just noticed, if you put an h after the t in write, you get writhe...talk about uncomfortable. But that's for another blog.) I'm not sure about magic weaving. I like to think I write/writhe magic, or even magically. Most writers do. Probably because we've had too many Starbucks. Yet, even under the influence of mucho java most of the literary fiction I've read hasn't woven any magic for me.
It has, however, made me feel rather stupid. (Not difficult.) Written by people trying very hard to sound profound (hey, that rhymes), they write about the most profound thing they can imagine. Death. So they kill off their protagonist at the end of the story.
I thought I'd start this particular blog with a quote, something really literary. (Anyone who knows me is already laughing. Literary?)
My writing is about as far from literary as you can get. Like, out in the remainder bin, on the sidewalk outside of the store. But here's how one person defines the genre of literary fiction (which, incidentally, is supposed to be the anti-genre. Go figure. I can't.): "...fiction that is of higher quality, richer, denser, or, as the literary fiction book club states, work that 'can make us uncomfortable or can weave magic.''
Uncomfortable? I can write that. (Hey! I just noticed, if you put an h after the t in write, you get writhe...talk about uncomfortable. But that's for another blog.) I'm not sure about magic weaving. I like to think I write/writhe magic, or even magically. Most writers do. Probably because we've had too many Starbucks. Yet, even under the influence of mucho java most of the literary fiction I've read hasn't woven any magic for me.
It has, however, made me feel rather stupid. (Not difficult.) Written by people trying very hard to sound profound (hey, that rhymes), they write about the most profound thing they can imagine. Death. So they kill off their protagonist at the end of the story.
One article I've read sums it up this way:
"Tales from the Cryptic (AKA All's Well That Ends)
This is the great practical joker of the literary world, with a pedigree going back to the original shaggy-dog story. The reader is lulled by interesting characters and maybe even a whiff or two of plot. We read dozens of pages. Characters converge and interact. Things happen. Then we reach a conclusion that seems to bear no relationship to the previous text. For example -- two people meet and have tea. Halfway around the world, a butterfly dies. The end. We are left as clueless about the ending as the author. " (you can find the rest of this article, "A Guide to Literary Fiction" Copyright © 2002 by David Lubar at: http://www.davidlubar.com/litfic.html )
Thank you, David Lubar. You are my hero. I'd kiss your feet, but my blog is not that kind of a place.
Not today, anyway.
"Tales from the Cryptic (AKA All's Well That Ends)
This is the great practical joker of the literary world, with a pedigree going back to the original shaggy-dog story. The reader is lulled by interesting characters and maybe even a whiff or two of plot. We read dozens of pages. Characters converge and interact. Things happen. Then we reach a conclusion that seems to bear no relationship to the previous text. For example -- two people meet and have tea. Halfway around the world, a butterfly dies. The end. We are left as clueless about the ending as the author. " (you can find the rest of this article, "A Guide to Literary Fiction" Copyright © 2002 by David Lubar at: http://www.davidlubar.com/litfic.html )
Thank you, David Lubar. You are my hero. I'd kiss your feet, but my blog is not that kind of a place.
Not today, anyway.
1 comment:
Maybe that's what I need in my new wip: a butterfly to die and make it somehow reflect my heroine's new life.
Yeah, literary that's the ticket.
zzzzzzz (LOL!)
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