The New York Times just published The Best Book Covers of 2015. I haven’t seen this particular list in the past but it hoisted me out of my chair to look through every bookcase in the house (five to date) for my favorite cover. There were so many contenders. Colorless by Haruki Murakami for the peek-a-boo inserts? Collier’s Encyclopedia Yearbook Covering the Year 1968 for its foddy simplicity? In the end, I went with the The Circle by Dave Eggers because, well, it can’t be ignored, and there is a sort of imperial command, “Read it. Read it now.” What’s yours?
On Instagram, I put in the hashtag #donnatartt not expecting the famously reclusive author herself but curious to see what came up. Almost 12,000 posts were tagged with her name. That’s something to shoot for.
Today my look is Hazel from Fault in Our Stars, only because I wasn’t planning on leaving the house, not even to collect the FedEx package from the porch. Tomorrow I’m aiming for Kitsey from The Goldfinch. How about you?
A good perspective from Flash Fiction. Or as a dear friend used to say, “There’s always someone richer than you.”
NOTE: If you like writing one thing (novels in particular), woot. Don’t read this piece, even though it might help. You don’t want what I’m selling.
Envy is rife amongst writers. It’s the first stage of jealousy and rooted in daydreams. Few daydream about labor. We daydream about success as reward out of thin air. Example:
How awesome it is to be Neil Gaiman? Rock star of genre fiction, with more success than a dozen midlisters combined and multiplied by his current stock of awards and accolades. He is rich, famous, does what he likes, and makes fun commencement speeches.
The trouble is, you can’t be Neil Gaiman…