Counterbalance

Cite Me

While it's clear from the entry that I was not the first to use it (the LA Times got there first), I'm remarkably impressed with the truly ask-and-you-shall-receive nature of things these days. Earlier this week, I directed you to Doubletongued, a "lexicon for fringe English, focusing on slang, jargon, and new words." I half-jokingly suggested that my use of matchy matchy should be added to the record book, so vital is its meaning.  What would future generations do without such an employable phrase? A way to capture that horrific sensation that makes itself known when one is faced with things that seem, by cunning calculation, to look the very same? To belong together in a way that is unnatural?

It seems I've made my case. The folks at Doubletongued have added matchy matchy to their dictionary. More still, Counterbalance is cited as one of the preeminent (perhaps that's pushing it a bit) sources that legitimizes this phrase as slang. According to the double-tongued crew, I first employed this important phrase on September 6th, 2006 when talking about matchy matchy book covers.

I'm a citation! For fringe English, for jargon, for slang! Who knew I would make such important contributions to our cultural dialogue? To the documented record of the language spoken in our time? I feel strangely important. I'm sure it will pass.

When A Cover Is Just That (and when might it be more?)

If you've been following this blog, you know that I harbor a particular brand of irritation for matchy matchy book covers. Particularly matchy book covers that seem designed to identify these books to readers as books that go together, should be purchased together, are related to one another and in general, seem to scream "this is more about marketing than the quality of the writing." 

As a marketer myself (yes, I know, painful to admit as a writer, but will come in handy when I must do all my own marketing for as yet unpublished book), I get the concept of applying the "brand" universally. I beg - plead - with clients to just keep the logo the same everywhere.  You must keep your brand identity consistent or your customers will get confused! So perhaps more than most readers, I get the concept of one look across many books. I see the marketing wheels at work. I sell these same wheels to my clients every day.  So why then, does it piss me off so much when it happens with books?

Now - let me be clear. I understand the need to apply a cohesive "look" to things like the collected works of Marcel Proust, Tolkien, Raymond Chandler and the like. Even re-issues by Penguin, Vintage, etc. make sense to me.  Boxed sets, et al.  Yet, with new books, a pre-established "look" for existing and as yet to be published books drives me crazy. Most irritating of all, my research suggests that this happens more frequently with "chick lit" books than any other kind.  Why is that? Is there an implicit statement being made here about women readers (or women readers of these particular books) needing more hand-holding than other types of readers? That they wouldn't know which book to pick up next without the convenient matchiness of the newest book by the same author? Having attended at least one matchy matchy reading and observing the audience present, perhaps this is an accurate take on the target demographic. Perhaps they want cute books with shoes and outfits and engagement ring illustrations to match when lined-up on their perfect Pottery Barn shelves. But isn't even that a gross generalization? By the marketers? By me?

There is also the firm belief I hold that each book carries it's own separate identity. It's own experience. I believe so strongly in this that I want a new cover to match. Think of your most beloved current-day authors. Do any of their books match? No. No they don't. (Okay, in the spirit of full disclosure, it is duly noted that Murakami's Vintage International paperback series does have the whole eye/sunglasses/circle thing common in each of them. I would like to say that while it is "somewhat" matchy, I accept this level of "design cohesiveness" because the imagery is excellent, the execution flawless and the whole vibe of the covers match the vibe of the writing. And of course, matchy matchy doesn't matter when the writer in question is divine.) And why is that? Are the publishers smarter? The writers actually getting a say in the new covers?  Hip art departments simply wanting to "get creative" with each new book from the same author? What forces are at work that allow these writers to have different - unmatched - covers for each book? I wonder.

When a book comes out in hardcover, there is almost always a switch in cover design. Each release of the book in another country seems to warrant another new cover. Whole blogs are dedicated to documenting this endeavor.  As a marketer & designer, I dig this a bit. I like to see the reinterpretation of it all across country borders.  I'm also fascinated by reading how authors feel about their own book covers and if they feel the cover represents the contents accurately, if it will garner the sales one needs, etc.

Is it, then, purely a classic case of art meeting commerce? For every writer I admire, I want them to sell as many copies of their book(s) as possible. If there is one particular cover design that will help facilitate that over another, I'm all for it.  But I wonder about these fluffier books, classified in many circles as "chick lit". Why are they packaged this way? I'm not foolish enough to believe that a matchy matchy cover always means fluffy "you must get married and buy shoes now" writing inside.  But. Well. Why is that so often the case?

When I think of reading, the picking up of a novel, the entering into a world that the author has created for you, and the combination of words and characters and story, I'm giddy with what I might discover on a particular journey with a particular writer in a particular book. It is a tactile, mental and visceral thing...this book reading stuff.  In light of this, I find the dating, shopping, have baby, get married books to be shallow by comparison. Showing us a world that we all know about, that is not really any different from what we've already seen on Sex & the City (which was far edgier, and had some good dialogue now and again) and that I already get through my long-standing (since I was 14; yes, that's right) Vogue subscription. And I would argue vehemently that several contributing writers of Vogue magazine are much better writers (of their articles, NOT the novels they pen that are in the same vein as matchy matchy - Bergdorf Blondes comes to mind) than a lot of the matchy matchy writers out there.  Why?

Is it me? Am I the kind of book snob that I hoped never to become? That I make fun of? I would understand if I was a non-shopping woman. But come on. I have more shoes than I can count and I work from home.  No need to get dressed up. Or dressed at all. I love shopping. I've had a Vogue subscription for twenty years. I love design and clothing construction and fabric and the book articles and the contributing fiction writers I admire who somehow manage to make a face cream article vaguely literary with Chekhov & Proustian references.  I dig it. So shouldn't I also dig these matchy novels that are written by people who are, in essence, writing about the same things? One would think.

Which brings me to fiction as escape. As a way of imagining oneself in different circumstances. Aspirational reading (in the most loose sense, as aspirational reading for me means...you know...aspiring to be as good a writer as the one I'm currently reading), if you will. Is that what the matchy matchy contingent wants? Is that what the girl in a small town in Montana wants to escape into? Fabulous apartments, Jimmy Choos, hip clubs, expensive jewelry and dashing divorce attorneys? Maybe. But I think we can do better. As writers (and readers), I think we can dig deeper. We have to.

Perhaps it is a very complex issue that I will never unravel. Or it may be quite simple after all: there is a market for every kind of writing and these matchy matchies have found an audience. Who am I to complain about it?

Matchy Matchy Doles Out the Best Writing Advice I've Ever Gotten & I'm Just As Shocked As You Are

So. The finale. The big finish. How did it all turn out with Ms. Matchy Matchy? She finished her reading (you know, the reading that was, without a reading) and took some questions from her fans. 

Question #1 went something like: "I love the covers of your books. Do you get to pick them? "

Answer #1 went something like: "I don't get to pick the designs, but I DO get to pick the colors. And I'm so excited about the next several books coming out. The next one is sage green, the one after that is peach, the one after that is lavender.  See the trend? Cool, warm, cool, warm. That's how we're doing it. Isn't it great?"

Question #2 went something like: "I love your character's names. Do you come up with them on your own? Is it hard?"

Answer #2 went something like: "Actually, coming up with the character names is my favorite part! I love it!"

It was about here that I felt the night careening off course. Tragically. Typically. So stereotypically. But then.

Question #3 went something like: "So how did you decide to become a writer?"

Answer #3 went something like: "On the very first day of my job as a lawyer, I realized I had made a mistake. Utter misery will get your butt moving pretty quickly in another direction. I've always loved writing and always written stories, but I decided that day that writing was my ticket out of the pure drudgery of my job."

Fine. I'm warming up...

Question #4 went something like: "So what is your writing process? Do you write every day? At the same time?"

Answer #4 went something like: "Actually. No, I don't write every day. I find that I just can't do it. People say write one hour a day, every day. It just doesn't work for me. I find that when I do write a couple of times a week, I need to write for at least five hours at a time. Because still for the first hour or two, I'm checking email. Thinking about something else. Listening for my kids outside my office. It takes me a full 3 hours of writing to get back into the world I've created. And it's only that last hour of writing that is ever any good.  In a five hour session, the first four hours of writing is usually crap. But I need that much time to get going."

...and I love you. The single most comforting advice I've ever heard from a writer, albeit a writer I've openly questioned. It makes sense and I love her for saying it because her process is my process and I've always felt like a proper failure because I don't write every day at the allotted time for the alloted amount. I simply can't do it. And, to her point, I need A LOT more than one hour to get anything good to come out. You know, you've read this blog. 

Since hearing these words from her, I've implemented my own five hour sessions only a few times a week -- with excellent results. This larger chunk of time gives me room to play, to really open up, to take some risks and think bigger. To really get into the world I've created. An hour every day makes me feel...squeezed, smushed, strained. Just when I start to get into it, I find I'm already patting myself on the back for completing an hour of writing and my mind wanders at the 61 minute mark.

Matchy Matchy answered the question (the one we all hope is asked at every reading, even if we don't want to admit it) in a way that has actually improved my own writing dramatically. Who woulda thunk it?

So there. She lost a lot of points and she gained 'em all back.  Until, of course, I read her books...

UPDATE: Justine just knocked matchy matchy out of the top advice spot. By a mile. So much good advice in such a short period of time. Now I have no excuse. Not a one. (Via Gwenda.)

Matchy Matchy Shuts Me Up...or How Not to Judge a Book By It's Cover

So. You already know what she looks like, right? Sarah Michelle Gellar only tinier, if possible, and actually, much prettier.  A husky voice. Very Sex & the City with the outfit to match.  Crisp white capris with a fabulous chiffony top that showed off her perfect tan and expertly muscled arms.  Sexy sandals to die for. She would be a vapid lovely if not for, you know, that law degree from the University of Virginia.  Yes, that's right, she's an attorney. A smart one.  One that realized early on she hated being a lawyer and knew she had to plot her way out. Hence, the writing. Hence, the books. Hence the very business-savvy-ness that radiates from her.  A rarity, as many writers either don't understand the business aspect of book selling or resent it or both.  She embraces it.

I knew she had a law degree before I got to Vromann's.  I knew I was not dealing with a fluffy kind of girl. And yet. And yet. I could not reconcile this smart woman with these matchy matchy book covers that seemed fluffy in the extreme (mere marketing or was there something more sinister at work?). As she approached the lectern, I was eager to see how events would unfold.  I wanted to be surprised, proven wrong, made a fool of...anything that would give me hope that all these "i can't wait to be marrieds" in the audience were at least reading books that improved their minds, made them think, inspired bigger dreams, different options.  All the things that a good book can do.  Or, as I cynically feared, would this be another fluffy book about finding the man of your dreams (because who are we with out that?) and living the happily ever after life that is marketed to women in a thousand different ways each day? 

Giffin waited until the room was quiet and jumped right in.  Not into her new book, Baby Proof (which one would expect at a reading), but into a speech about how she approached the writing of this book, how she came up with the storyline and what inspired her to write it.  Baby Proof is about a married couple, soul mates who were pleased to find early on in their dating that neither of them wanted children.  Several years into their marriage, the man changes his mind. He wants a child. Desperately. His wife does not.  Giffin's book chronicles their struggles and attempts to wrestle with the criticism such women face...particularly in our society of Mommy Wars and the ongoing debate about women who want to have it all: the husband, the career, the children and a fabulous social life to boot. 

As Giffin put it (quite well), "there's this huge debate about Mommy Wars and women who want to have it all vs. those who feel they need to stay at home with their kids, but no one is talking about this group of women in society who choose not to have children. In fact, those women are often looked upon as if something must be physically wrong with them.  No one wants to believe a woman would choose not to have children and when people do realize that a woman has made that choice, she is ostracized. Thought of as unloving, uncaring, cold. Why is that? Why is it that no one is applauding those women for not having a child if they know themselves to be unwilling to provide all the attention a child needs?" In short, she outlined the problem thus: Why aren't these women viewed as child-free instead of child-less? 

I know. Smarter than you expected, right?  A better subject matter than you were prepared for, right?  I was flummoxed...but oh so pleasantly. Certainly not of the "go out and find yourself a mate asap" variety.  And certainly not worthy of the fluffy cover. Or, for that matter, not worthy of an audience that talked non-stop about getting married as if it was the most important thing one could strive for. Do I now need to read the book to see if I agree with how she handles it? Of course. Am I still irked, irked, irked that a book has been packaged in the same way so many other books have been packaged to appeal to an audience that seemingly cares only about shoes and dating and marriage and babies? Absolutely.  But is there something else at work here? This book being marketed to husband-seekers might have the opposite effect -- showing husband-seekers there is a different way.  Too optimistic?  Remains to be seen.  I am halfway through her first book and will report back on all as I make my way to Baby Proof.

It worked on me though. This marketing hype. I saw these books and sensed immediately what they might be about. For me, these covers signaled predictable drivel about finding a man to make your life better. Why? Because so many other books that look like this do peddle that message and it makes me very angry. Is that the hallmark of a well-executed marketing campaign?  Possibly. Is this a rather ironic way to learn the true meaning of the "don't judge a book by it's cover" adage?  Indeed. Am I rash and prone to verbal gymnastics before I really know what I'm talking about (S?) -- sometimes, yes. But my anger was not fabricated and my confusion -- on many levels -- remains. Why are these books being marketed this way?  Judging from the audience at Giffin's reading, the books are making their way into the hands of the women who expected to read exactly what I expected to read. We were both surprised. Bravo for Giffin & props the marketing guru who came up with the matchy matchiness, but I'm not sure where that leaves us. Or the writers.

This is it good/is it bad/does it matter/and if so how thinking reminds me of the current debate about the This is NOT Chick Lit/This IS Chick lit deuling anthologies. Excellent insights and healthy debates can be found at Ed's & Megan's.  I have more to say on this point as well and once I've finished reading Giffin's work, I'll be better able to comment on exactly how she is/is not different from the expectations (my?) of this genre. 

Just as I began to settle in and get ready to hear her read, Giffin stopped talking, looked out at the audience and asked if there were any questions.  What? No reading?  Huh?  The audience didn't skip a beat. It seemed no one knew that at a reading there is meant to be, you know, reading. No matter. Hands enthusiastically shot up in the air.  And so we had arrived at the best part of any reading: the Q&A.  The moment when the night just gets better or careens off a cliff...

Matchy Matchy Keeps 'em Waiting

One must often arrive at important readings early.  Very early.  Wait in line, get a good seat (or any seat), muscle one’s way through eager booklugging fans just to get out the door when it’s over.  You know the drill. 

Yet when one is attending a Matchy Matchy reading, it seems this prep is an unnecessary formality. Not needed. A waste of time.  On the flip side, arriving early at such an event gives one ample time to observe (read: eavesdrop and record their every word while inwardly snickering) the overall demeanor of those who are likely in attendance because they are actually fans of the writer in question. 

An alarming sense of excitement prevailed.  The ladies in attendance (because what man would?) could barely sit still in their seats. Their dangly earrings and wrists full of bracelets jingled with every swish of their long, perfectly ironed hair, jangled with every full torso twist to the back of the store, craning their necks, wondering when, when the object of their affection would appear. “I wonder what she looks like in person?” “I wonder what she’s going to wear.”

Vapid lovelies? Not quite.  They lacked a certain edge, a specific cynicism. These ladies fell in two camps: young unmarrieds & old marrieds trying very hard to look young.  Surely they were other things as well, but what was most palpable was either the previous partaking of or the assured future transaction of marriage.  All movement, all discussions, all slight murmurs oozed with either a future that most definitely included a wedding or their past in which they had a wedding.  Case in point:

“I hope the man I marry is like Dex. I liked him so much, especially in the first book...I know I shouldn't because he cheated, but he was so torn up about it.”

“I know. But what about Darcy? He shafted her. I don’t want someone like that. I want someone who is honest.”

“Me too, I guess. I wonder what Matchy Matchy’s marriage is like? I wonder if her husband is like Dex? I wonder if she’s rich now.”

“I bet they have a huge house.”

The old marrieds version varied slightly. Replace “I hope I marry a man like Dex” with “I wish I had married a man like Dex.”  Indeed. Critical minds at work, trying desperately to crack the important symbolism and overarching themes buried within the treasures of Something Borrowed, Something Blue & yes, Baby Proof.

While they were not vapid lovelies, they were, surprisingly, bookluggers. I didn’t expect this lot to trudge about with all three hardcover books in tow (must be hell on the acrylic nails), but there they were, stacked neatly on knees, wedding fingers as yet unadorned or tricked out with blinding Orange Countyesque baubles, waiting for their own version of Carrie Bradshaw to arrive and tell them how to land a man of their own or how to land a better version of the one they’ve already got.

A Vromann’s employee -- just as giddy, just as eager, wholly given over to the Matchy Matchy magic – announced that Matchy Matchy was delayed en route. Audible groans. Concerned sighs. One girl desperately cried out, “But she’s still coming right? Right?” Yes, still coming, just a little bit late.  Large collective sigh of relief.

The overly excited employee (which I find quite suspect – anyone who works at a bookstore in the capacity of recommending good books should not be this enthusiastic about this author) offered a diversion to pass the time.  “To make the waiting easier, I visited Matchy Matchy’s website and I printed out pictures of her and her family and some photos of one of the first books she ever wrote when she was ten years old. She made it out of construction paper. Isn’t that cute? I’ll pass it around so everyone can see. It’s just so cute.”

I could launch into a whole thing here, but I’m guessing I don’t need to.  You get it.  To filch a reading technique from David Mitchell, just imagine a huge, gaping, silent pause here and the painful passing of time as the pictures made their way through the eager hands and I wondered what bizarre world I’d stumbled upon.

Coming out of what I can only guess was an involuntary fight or flight response in which I stood up to look at actual books written by actual authors, I picked up snippets of conversation about Anne Hathaway being perfect. About the film being miscast. About the need to hold more auditions to be sure that whomever plays Rachel is sweet, perfect. Just like the character in the book. Several women who did not arrive together but who were now fast friends (for what sisterhood is stronger than the Matchy Matchy kind?) debated the merits of every young actress in Hollywood. Arms were flailing. Women from two rows up were turned around and kneeling on their seats so they could join in. The film rights have been sold for all three books. Of course.

Just as they began to launch into a detailed discussion of which young Hollywood actor should play Dex, the Vromann’s employee appeared looking as if she was concealing the most exciting information she’d ever been asked to guard. In a flurry of waving hands and gasps of air, she shouted: “She’s here! She’s here! Everyone – she’s here!” 

All conversation ceased, the kneelers abruptly turned around and put their fannies in their chairs.  A few people re-checked their cell phones to be sure they were off.  Matchy Matchy was in the house.

Matchy Matchy Has a Name & She Looks Like Sarah Michelle Gellar

Call me crazy. Or, rather, call me lazy first. I've been out of my mind with work (that would be the counter part to the balance part of the counter+balance that is my blog) and I've got so many ideas brewing and sketched and penned and  outlined that I am suffering from an "I don't know what to post first" phobia.  So, of course, I've posted nothing.  Ah, my genius mind at work.  Lots to say, so post nothing.  A minimalist approach, if you will.  But my usual overly forthcomingness will be back soon.

I will tease you with a few tidbits before I return to post all the gory details later this week:

• I managed to get to the reading (a term to be used very loosely in this case) of Emily Giffin (yes, matchy matchy does have a name) and I've got some things to say. A whole two weeks later, what still strikes me most is that she bears a startling resemblance to Sarah Michelle Gellar, only with a much huskier voice.  I'm not sure what that tells you about the reading, but this should at least give you a visual to work with until I post the full debrief.
• Her books have been placed in the holds queue at my library. No, I could not bear to buy them.  I would like to point out my utter dismay when I learned that I was #35 on the wait list for her latest novel Baby Proof and that there are 68 copies available for holds .  What!?!?!?!?!  The finest voices of our generation and previous generations only have a few meager copies available at best. But she has....68....and so many people are "holding" for these precious copies that I'm actually number 35?  Ugh.
• When I manage to get one or two, I promise to read them with a somewhat open mind. No, really. How can I be so crummy if I've not even read the books?
• David Mitchell was on KCRW's Bookworm with Michael Silverblatt a week ago.  My post on this is half-done, but  you can check it out now if you're feeling antsy.
• Condalmo is asking an important short story question: Why aren't people more into them? I'm preparing my response for his blog now and will have it over later this week. Do check back both here and there. It should be an interesting dialogue.
• Svetlana Alexievich's Voices from Chernobyl blew me away. Pardon the awful pun. More on this to come. Highly recommended for a powerful reality check.
• Many moons ago (at least it seems like it now), I did see A.M. Homes at her Skylight Books reading. Fascinating. Post to follow. 

That's it. I'm tapped. I am, however, back from many travels and will be a regular contributor at my own blog for the foreseeable future.  Some graffiti posts, some photo posts, some i still really hate the wedding industry posts and various other shocking revelations to come.  Do stay tuned.

Matchy Matchy Does a Reading

Some time ago I made boldly disparaging remarks about a certain "set" of books that were matchy-matchy in nature. These books bother me in the worst way -- in a way that no other published author (the thinly veiled frustration here being my consistent lack of publication) does. It seems that under the guise of chick-lit (pseudo?), this author has been able to work her way into a multiple-book contract. Her publisher, at this very moment, is saying: Keep the cheesy stuff coming, and we'll keep shoveling it out there with a matching cover to boot.  We'll make it all matchy-matchy so our target audience doesn't have to think too much and will see all the matching covers and intuitively know they all go together and wouldn't she want all of them? For who said silly women can't be completists as well?

I did also mention in that previous post that I could at least see my whining and complaining was getting me nowhere.  While I hunted about the bookstore for more matchy evidence to support my jealous claims, it became clear that this was time I could spend writing.  Clearly, author of said matchy books was busy writing...something.  Is it worth reading? I doubt it. But again, I do not know.

Now, it seems, I may have a chance to find out.  The author who gave us the lovely matchiness of:

this

and  this...         

has now graced
us with this:        

To commemorate and no doubt celebrate the sickening success of yet another book that seems to tell women exactly what they should be wanting in life (more to come on my sickening experience thus far with the wedding industry), the author of such fine titles will be giving a reading this Friday.

I do have some burning questions and attendance at such a reading might provide answers to these questions of mine. To wit - who reads these books? what kind of women are they? what kind of reading can be given by a writer who writes these kinds of books?  will it be like other author readings where we all admire the writer so much we are a little awkward and shy and nervous when asking questions?  is it possible for any reader to feel this way about an author who writes this type of drivel? what would betty friedan say? susan faludi?

I could stay home and write. I could attend other readings by proper authors.  I could stop being so snarky and obsessive about something wholly outside myself (but is it?) and do something more constructive with my time. Or I could go take a peek and see if my hunch is correct and/or make a complete ass out of myself if/when the author is actually quite smart and witty and well-spoken and all women's lib.

Do I stay or do I go?

What a Pair of Matching Frogs Can Do

It was Saturday. It was raining. I had many writing deadlines looming, several work deadlines overdue and a shocking number of boxes still to unpack from the move that was, um, six weeks ago. Rainy Saturday + unwillingness to write for fear of what will end up on page=trip to bookstore.

Plus, Black Swan Green was not yet in my possession.

Rain always adds texture to my atmospheric bookstore high.  Saturday was no exception. The sky was murky, full of clouds heavy with mood.  "We might spit out some rain, we might not, but whatever we do, it will be cool and will further the introspective vibe we've been conjuring up all day."  The streets were wet, the air was cool. I couldn't whip up better book hunting weather if I tried -- it had all the right ingredients.  I even found free parking around the corner.  I walked in the front door and was assaulted. By these:

Now. It could be that I'm a snob of some sort. It could also be that I'm a jealous writer of some sort. Or, it could be, that these are less books and more...I don't know...things that not so bright girls read on the beach after they've just broken up with their boyfriend...right before they flip back to the Us Weekly magazine they were reading moments before.  I could feel the irritation creep into my neck, finding a home in my already-sore-with-tension shoulders.

How is it that many brilliant writers are struggling in vain and yet books like this get published? More painful still, someone, somewhere, actually said aloud "I know, let's do a sequel!"  I think I stood still, in front of this matchy matchy froggie display for five full minutes. Possibly more. I was taken aback -- and I hate it when people say taken aback, because really, there are usually better ways to say that.  Yet for this matchy frog moment, "taken aback" is apt.  "A bit ill" would also be apt.  Okay. So. This girl wrote some frog books. It's time to move on. Perhaps she is lovely. Perhaps the books are well-written, insightful commentaries on kissing frogs of all species from all continents with a socially responsible message about stepping into another's shoes before judging and not discriminating against size, colour, shape, background, poisonous tendencies, etc. 

No matter. I sought out my David Mitchell prize and I put the frog business out of my head. I drooled over several titles in the lit journal section and found A Public Space, a promising new lit mag.  But the frog thoughts resurfaced. Clearly you are jealous. Instead of maligning her and her frog books (which, again, could be brilliant), you should congratulate her. I mean, after all, she finished two full books. That is more than you can say, Miss Counterbalance. And really, who are you, as a writer, to be commenting on the lives of other, obviously more successful writers? 

I pressed on. Discount Vollmann. Sale Murakami.  As I was making my way to the table of just-out paperbacks (Never Let Me Go has my name on it), I was assaulted again.  By these:

(The sound of silence as I stand and stare at the table. Dumbfounded. Taken so aback I'm front.  Agape at the pink and blueness of it. Shrinking slowly into myself as I realize that, these writers were paid to write this. They are working writers, whereas I'm more a working writer in the sense that I work all day so that I can write all night. Which is not the same as getting a paycheck to write cute little books. They are probably at home right now writing other stuff while you are standing here staring at these books and whining.)

And that, my readers, is the truth of it. These may be brilliant books and I may be forced to see the error of my judgment soon. They may also be drivel (likely) and one day, I might end up crossing paths with one of these working writers who will not take kindly to my blog posts (unlikely). But the lesson is this -- at least they are writing. They are not at the bookstore procrastinating. So thank you, matchy matchy booky books for pointing me in the right direction. Unlike reading Maso or Mitchell and thinking "I'll never be this good and so what is the point", I'm left feeling more like "What the hell. If they are publishing this malarkey, I really do have a chance!"  So. There's the moral. All wrapped up neatly with clearly outlined deliverables, timelines and next steps.

So. Now. With the moral of the story out of the way and with my own writing schedule now rigorously mapped out to ensure I stay on track, tell me. Seriously. Are these books as irritating as I think they are, or do I just need to lighten up a bit?