I have had a wonderful August, thus far. For a fortnight we hosted a dear friend of mine whom I hadn’t seen in far, far too long. (I’m still in shock, actually, about how long it had been). During her stay, I rediscovered pieces of myself I hadn’t realized I’d been neglecting: gorging on reading, a love for secondary world fantasies, and gorging on food. Talking about books, about series’, about live in general. I was worried, at first, that too much time had passed, that we’d become too different — all manner of silly, silly things. And they were silly, silly fears. Not an hour into the visit, and everything was like it had been a week, maybe two, since we last enjoyed one another’s company.
I can’t say that I dislike what I read, because I don’t. But I’d forgotten how much I enjoy secondary fantasy. I’ve always loved contemporary paranormals and ‘urban’ fantasy, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t also adore secondary world fantasies — because I do. But, between not really talking about them with people and having places like Borders close and Barnes and Noble not carrying books like they used to, with the popularity of e-readers and with relying on internet-based booksellers, or even smaller, independent booksellers, we don’t get to browse the shelves like we used to, and we rely a bit more on word of mouth than maybe we used to. I don’t think this is necessarily bad, but the end result is, if I’m not in places to hear about particular books, I don’t hear about them, and I don’t read them. I’ve been reading a lot of nonfiction and contemporarily set or historically set but still set here fiction.
I have authors on my to be read list. Joe Abercrombie. Brent Weeks. I’m waiting for books to come back into the library, or I’m waiting for funds to buy ebooks. In the meantime, we’re reading Game of Thrones for story-time (rereading, actually, but out loud, and together, and it’s been nigh on a decade since I last read that book). I’m rereading Carol Berg’s Bridge of D’Aranth series and remembering how much I love her writing. And it’s gotten my writing juices flowing again. After two weeks off and my schedule being disrupted (happily, happily mind!) it’s time to get back in the saddle. Right?
I’ve got a short story coming out next month. I’ve got a new character in my head who wants to tell her story, though it feels like it could be a book-length, and didn’t we just talk about that? In the beginning, it always feels like if I just sit down and let them speak, it’ll all unfurl, but halfway through we get caught in the quagmire, and it’s hard to keep going. Brittany and Thistle want their story worked on, and I want to reread it so I can refresh the material in my mind. Discipline. And the other short story is clamoring for my attention.
I’m inundated. This is good.