So, books. They are the backbone of any writer’s house. They are the inspiration, the goal, the comfort, and the interior decorating. A bookshelf holds dozens of different worlds and styles of prose, and every person’s collection is a new adventure.
So what is in my collection? Let me confess first that it is mostly nonfiction, and that I won’t be talking about all those books. This post is about fiction – lovely, full-bodied, thick and tasty fiction.
Some books are like old friends, and even as they grow worn and dusty they remain so familiar that when you come back to them, it feels like home. David Copperfield is one such book for me. It is not flawless by any means – as I have grown older, I have come aware of a lack of spirit in the female characters, and of a rambling plot. However, the coming-of-age of young David, and his slow recognition of the various types of injustice in the world – played out with a cast of characters so vivid and unique that you come to love them all – continues to feel relevant to me. I think it’s a shame Dickens goes against the sensibilities of modern readers, with his wordy prose and fondness for description, because I feel he still has much to offer. (more…)
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Let me tell you, it’s great to be a fantasy writer. The sky’s the limit. Imagination is my oyster. I can do anything I want. I don’t have to obey the constraints of politics or physics. I can ignore the boundaries of biology and geography. I can imagine bold and exciting new worlds and populate them with amazing races. I can push my readers to the limit, expand their horizons.