Last Wednesday, at writers’ club, three readers volunteered to share pages with us who have entirely different styles. Connie read first–a short, horror story. She has a sly, dark humor that permeates her writing. Every time she reads, I grow envious. Her wordplay reminds me a bit of my friend’s, Carl Grody–whose witty humor colors everything he writes. He can dazzle with similes and metaphors. (His book is on amazon). Me? Not so much, so when I read someone who’s mastered those styles, I notice.
Fazal read next. He has a subtle, literary style that captures characterization with quiet nuances. Again, not my strong point. Les Bock was our last reader. He writes thrillers. His books teem with insider information, a strong masculine view, and not so nice characters. (He’s on amazon, too). I looked around the table at my fellow writers. Paula, (who writes wonderful novels and has yet to share one of them with the world) has so many depths of layers to her stories, I turn green with envy. Mary Lou Rigdon and Kathy Palm can weave descriptions and details into their prose, as though braiding colorful tapestries. So can Sia Marion (who’s new and still pounding out her manuscript). Karen Lenfestey can milk angst from a rock. We call her the Queen of Conflict. And I enjoy listening to all of them, because they do what I don’t.
The things I admire about their writing are the things I’m not known for. I tend to write clean and concise. Sia told me that’s what she loves about my writing. And that’s when it hit me. We can all see the strengths in the OTHER person’s voice and style, and we can all see the warts in our own. I’ve started to think of it like houses. If a person knocks on my door, unannounced, I know each thing, in each room, that could be dusted or cleaned, but my visitors don’t seem to notice. When I knock on their doors, they apologize for messes I don’t see. And even if I did, I don’t care. We can all see our own shortcomings. I swear I’m drawn to peoples’ writing because it isn’t like my own.
When I was a kid, (and yes, this shows how old I am), Connie Stevens starred on a TV show called 77 Sunset Strip. She was short and curvy with blond hair and blue eyes–all the things I’m not. To me, she was perfection. A perfection I could never achieve. It took me a while to realize that I’m drawn to the things I’m not. But it doesn’t matter. Because all you can be, in life and in writing, is you. So be your best and go with it!
My webpage: http://www.judithpostswritingmusings.com/
Mary Lou Rigdon’s webpage: http://www.MLRigdon.com
Karen Lenfestey’s webpage: http://www.karensnovels.com.
Kathy Palm’s blog: http://findingfaeries.wordpress.com/2014/02/04/there-is-no-lif/
Sia Marion’s blog: http://findingfaeries.wordpress.com/2014/02/04/there-is-no-lif/
Les Bock’s book: http://www.amazon.com/French-Liaison-Bock-ebook/dp/B005FTQFGE/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1404078488&sr=1-1&keywords=Les+Bock
Carl Grody’s book: http://www.amazon.com/Since-Before-You-Were-Born-ebook/dp/B00EHT3B5G/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1404078540&sr=1-1&keywords=Carl+Grody