A Post for T.L. Hines, Since I'm Sure He Won't...
I recently almost read a book. Thanks be to the gods that protect me and my thinking brain, I did not finish it. It is a most ridiculous book; the most ridiculous thing about it is that in the hands of a capable author the premise would have been magnificent. In the hands of the actual author, however, it is nothing short of an embarrassing travesty. Aside from the stilted characters, transparent plot line and weak writing, the whole religion trip made me gag.
What really sucks is that the underlying idea for the story was really quite good. Intriguing, even, which is why I plucked it off the library shelf in the first place. But it all went downhill from there. Seriously, how did this guy get published? I write better than this clown, and I've never been published. Unless, of course, you count the publishing house that said my story about the futuristic, skywalking space knight and his courageous band of misfit heroes that overthrew the evil emperor solely by love, luck and light swords was a sure thing. They told me that all needed to do was pay $34,000 to an offshore account and they would get me in print. I sent the money a long, long time ago, to a bank account far, far away. And they promised me I would get a free copy of the book. I can't imagine what happened to it. I still check my mailbox everyday...
Anyway, I digress...
ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!?!?!?! How in the name of all that is holy did this stupid piece of shit ever get published, much less on ANY best list?
Harsh? Perhaps. However, one must remember the truism of Jesus (the one that lives down the hall from me, not the one in the bible):
et si un ange passe pars avec lui. »
THANK YOU
posted by damnsle | 10:56 PM
3 Comments:
Hi, Damnsle - Sorry you didn't like the book; hope you find something you enjoy on your next trip to the library.
I find many things that I enjoy at the library; It is one of my most favorite places to be. However, as is obvious from my tirade, I am eaten alive with jealousy that your pitiful ramblings get a paycheck and I am left wallowing in the disdain of others.
One of my main (although not my only) problems with your book is the ending (I actually read that part, although obviously, not all that came before it), and all I can say is: Seriously? Who handcuffs someone with the hands in front? Everyone knows that to keep someone bound you pull the hands behind them and THEN handcuff them. And I, after manhandling a serial killer into the car, would have belted him in for good measure. Seat belt across the shoulder and torso with hands behind the body is much more plausible and secure than some S&M'tastic-lite version with the hands in front. I realize that this causes a problem for the writer (how does the main character die for the fourth time if the bad guy is bound so well?) but that's your problem, not ours. Figure out a way, don't cheat. You cheated a LOT, from what I can tell of the 3/8th of the book that I read. Deus ex machina is something to be used sparingly at opportune moments, like extasy, not something to be used harmlessly at every opportunity, like weed.
I think maybe you need to fire your editor as well, if he didn’t point these things out to you.
Again, jealousy notwithstanding, the premise is good. You were just pointed in a WAY wrong direction (especially the whole “everything is good once you let Jesus into your life” angle, although being adamantly not christian I’m probably prejudiced about that aspect). And I think you really need to start talking to more women. We don’t talk so sugary sweet to each other. Actually, you just need to start talking to more people in general. No one talks as stiltedly as your characters, despite all the contractions and slang you tried to inject in your attempt to convey realism.
It didn’t work.
The whole thing: It just didn’t work. I know, I know… I’m a mean and horrible person. I can roll with that. What I can’t roll with is someone who is called “prodigiously talented” who can’t work out a plot point without resorting to some ridiculous and easy out.
Think more, pray less, and live a fucking life once in a while.
"And that’s all I have to say about that."
(By the way, expletives are a valid part of the English language. By deleting them from a conversation (or a jealous tirade) you are just proving your inept handling of the medium. You are not protecting anyone from anything, no matter how much you think you are. Words are beautiful and useful, however ugly some uneducated readers find them.
As a writer, you should learn that.)
I don't have an email address for you, so I'll just leave another comment.
To each her own. So you hate my book. So you hate my writing. That's fine. You don't have to read anything else I write, and we can each go our merry and separate ways.
Except.
Except you choose to lash out in rage. Why is that? It's a natural impulse, I know, to attack others who have something you want. We all experience it. But most of us are able to control that impulse; you seem to revel in obeying it.
You can rant about my writing, and me personally, all you want. I've heard much worse--and thought much worse about myself--many times.
But I'd like to suggest the real problem here has nothing to do with my book. It's obvious to me that something much deeper than mere jealousy is hurting you. The bigger question is: is it obvious to you?
If you'd like to email me privately, my address is willieeverlearn -at- yahoo -dot- com.
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