Blacklidge

mystery books

I've been reading some descriptions of new mystery books this evening. I always think that with just a bit of concentration and some time, I should be able to write something. That, of course, is the tall part of the order. If I could concentrate for longer than two minutes, lots of coherent things would come out of my mouth and off the keyboard. I have a hard time thinking of something to write about on my blog, much less stringing a couple of hundred pages in a row. My mother always thought that I should write a little, insipid romance, when she was alive. That was her favorite genre and she knew it couldn't be too hard to write one of them. I really considered it a couple of times but really, you have to know something about something, in depth. A really well known truism about me is, I know a little bit about a lot of things, but not too many things in depth. Some of the shit that sticks in my brain often seems totally useless and then one day, poof! Somehow it comes in handy. Off the subject, see? No matter which genre seems to be your favorite there is always some kind of a formula to follow. Little, insipid romances follow the formula, one, two, three, every time. Mystery books have a formula but it is usually the variations that make one a good book. The sci-fi bunch undoubtedly has some set of rules to follow. All types can be conquered by just studying how they lay out, in theory. Maybe someday I'll just sit down and start one. Getting started is really the hardest part, right?

Little, Insipid Romances

My mother always used to think that I should be able to write a book. She read constantly, one book after another. While she had at some point read the classics, by the time I came along she was into quantity, not quality. Little, insipid romances, that's what she called them. Thin enough that some days she read more than one, she liked them for the formula that had thousands churned out each year.

She figured that I could just slam a few of them together and get them published so that we'd all get rich. It was in my mind quite a bit but deep down inside I knew that it had to be harder than she thought. A huge project requiring organization,skill and knowledge of an industry that I had never even come close to before. So I never really took her seriously.

Now that I'm older and she's gone,I kind of wish I'd at least given it a try. Who knows,I could be living next to Nora Roberts or Barbara Cartland by now.Of course the genre has changed. A bit more sex, less innocence. The older ones would definitely have been easier to write, but I'm sure once you get the first one done, they would just flow. The formula, don't forget the formula! Independent woman, alone in the world meets impossibly handsome stranger. Invariably, their fortunes cross and she thinks he's a poor man, he thinks she's a fortune hunter. It's bound to have some kissie-kissie scenes, probably more than that now, and the anguish of a big breakup.Then the big makeup scene! See? It can't be that hard to write.

Well, it still lurks in the back of my mind but somehow I know it'll never happen. I read mysteries now for my main selections and they too have their formula. Even knowing that, I can't seem to get started on either types of books. Maybe you'd like to try one? Go ahead, follow the formula and get back to me when it's done. I'll be waiting.