apologies

LiteraryLintMonster175x175i apologize for not having been around for a few days – i have been in bed with a nasty cold. the kind that makes you feel like you are dying in a thousand ways, and wishing you were dead in at least one way…

i have no idea when i will be in a state of mind and body to commence my everyday writing on this blog. hopefully soon as i do not want to disappoint my readers and followers.

here’s a bit sized piece from one of my favorite authors, to smooth you all over:

Author Q&A: Writing – Dean R. Koontz

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burning coals

PenFireSmallevery now and then one comes across a writer who leaves a burning coal behind when the web link flashes out of sight. i came across one such writer yesterday.

cheryl moore.

she shifts, holds me for a moment, like she used to, as if she welcomes the comfort, the closeness and kisses me. “hi!” she says, as if she’s been caught off guard, emotionally. our bodies connect, so briefly i’m unable to grieve properly, as she pushes me away, and gets out of bed. “i can’t. i’m sorry.”

“where are you going?”

“my piano.” she says with vodka on her breath. “i need her.”

if you get it, you do, if you do not, then i cannot explain it to you.

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Henric C. Jensen:

since i have nothing specific to write today – i thought that i’d reblog one of my own favorites:

Originally posted on Literary Lint:

I nicked this from Ketutar, who in turn got it from Aheila. My response to the Challenge

A photo on the wall. She is so pretty. Smiling directly into the camera. Her dress is new. Any time he wants he can recall that photo, and smile at how beautiful she is with her hair nicely done – and that smile. She’s seventeen.

A room full of people. She’s dancing. Everything about her is wild and earthy and golden. Her skirt is green, her shirt is white and her eyes shine. Any time he wants he can see her, in that skirt, that shirt, wild, earthy and golden – and those eyes. She twenty-six.

A kitchen that is home. She’s reading and making pancakes. Her skin is soft. She smells of  wheat, butter and strawberry jam. Her hands move like little ballerinas. Any time he wants he can fill his…

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lost lefts

LiteraryLintMonster175x175i don’t know about you, my readers, but i have invisible individuals in my home. you know the saying “water boils at 100°c, but milk when you turn your back”? well here it goes “turn your back and you cup is empty”. someone insists on drinking my coffee almost the moment i make myself a new cup. it is a mystery. i never see who or what it is, there are never any physical evidence, nor any traces or track of the entity that sneaks up and greedily slurps up my delicious coffee as soon as i turn my back on the cup. whatever it is or whoever it might be, is virtually invisible, because not even my dog reacts, and he is usually rather alert when it comes to movements and sounds. it has gotten so far that i have seriously thought of making some sort of ‘portable coffee cup’ that i can just hang around my neck in a string, so it will be i who drinks that coffee, and not some invisible goblins.

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no notes

today i have nothing – i am simply too tired after a full day of socializing, fixing with meetings and doing stuff on the phone. so today will be a blank bullet in my blog.

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literature…

Bookandglasses

who decides what is literature? the writers sure don’t. the critics think they do, but they only decide what is literature in their corner of the Library. that leaves one category: the reader.

“writings in which expression and form, in connection with ideas of permanent and universal interest, are characteristic or essential features, as poetry, novels, history, biography, and essays.” (Dictionary.com)

much of what is still considered ‘literature’ by the ‘establishment’ (critics, publishers, professors and copyright holders) has ceased to be of ‘universal interest’. meaning that the readers (i.e those who pick up a book to be abducted into an imaginary world) are no longer reading it. at the same time the reader is picking up books that the ‘establishment’ (critics, publishers, professors and copyright holders) look down their noses at – despite the fact that in 100 years such books will be ‘literature’ in the eyes of the future establishment.

funny, don’t you think?

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where is my cow…?

GrammarTroll

one of my favorite books is Where is my Cow by Terry Pratchett. it is amazing. and it becomes even more amazing when you know the ‘back-story’ – told in Thud! – where the memory of  reading Where is my Cow to his son saves the main character from certain death.

good stories have that power – to save lives – either literally or figuratively. the very act of reading a book is powerful in  itself, and governments all over the world have from time to time banned books, books by certain writers and books based on banned books.

but back to Where is my Cow? – the point with the book, for me, is the love the two main characters have for each other, and how they share a very special bond. with a silly, conspiratorial grin at the non-silly world.

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Filed under Authors, Reading, Review