I’m a writer, it is my job to write, right? I’m supposed to be hunched over my keyboard, mug of coffee at hand, tapping away furiously while prose and dialog leap effortlessly from my mind to my fingers to my computer screen. Well, it’s not happening so obviously, I am suffering from the dreaded scourge known as Writer’s Block (you should be hearing the duh duh duhhhhh tones that indicate a villain whenever you read that phrase).
There are several causes for Writer’s Block and I don’t have to look very far to figure out mine. There is a mistake in the plot. Pure and simple. Well, not simple since I now have to go back and unravel the entire thing and fix the mistake before the story can move on. My muse has packed up and gone on vacation taking my characters along for the ride. They refuse to return until I have set their world to rights.
So, it’s time to pour the coffee, roll up my sleeves and sort out the problem.
What? We’re out of coffee?
Everyone in my family fostered my love of reading. In fact, I can’t even remember learning to read. Either I was born with the ability or picked it us as my mother read book after book to me. At first, my family thought I had just memorized all of my books but when they brought home a new one and I read that, they realized that I was actually reading.
My grandfather invariably bought me books for Christmas. Another voracious reader, before he gave me my gift, he read it himself. He had a theory that once I finished reading, we could have a nice discussion about the book. And, we did. Those talks with him are among my most cherished memories.
Why am I telling you this?
Because, in October Amazon is launching a new program called Matchbook. When you buy a book from them, they now allow the publisher to offer the digital version at a reduced rate or even for free.
My grandfather would have loved this idea. I love this idea, check it out for yourself!
I am reading this for one of my college classes and am enjoying it immensely. Firoozeh Dumas uses humor as a medium to remind us that we all have similar hopes, dreams and quirks. Everyone has their foibles and families have to deal with them. When she wrote about the monkey on the balcony and how her father believed all animals were diseased, it reminded me of my grandmother who thought you could catch a cold by riding in cars with the windows down. I laughed out loud, which was probably not a good idea since it was 2 am and my husband was sleeping.
It takes a great deal of fortitude to distill the essence of family life and the vast array of personal experience into a humorous retelling that entertains while it enlightens.
This is a great read and I highly recommend it.