It’s always flattering, isn’t it – that one friend who loves your work no matter how crap it is. Sure it’s not all that helpful in the long run, but when you need a bit of an ego boost it’s kinda helpful.
He’s read my book Watching, both the first draft and the fifth, so that’s an interesting experience in itself (they’re very different). I guess that means he knows what he’s talking about when it comes to my writing. What he actually said was this:
“Miriam’s one of those writers who’s got that rare gift – like Stephen King – that, when you’re reading their books, you can actually see it happening like a film.”
Well, thank you very much, that’s very flattering. So I’m a kind of urban fantasy, not horror, but I probably torture my characters in the same way :) (I figured they got off easy after I read Misery … that thing had me up all night because I had to know if he lived.)
I like to say I can do this because when I’m writing I imagine it as a film, then describe what I can see. Does that make sense? It did in my head, but now it’s on paper it looks kind of funny. Well, a computer screen. Whatever.
Anyway, in other news, it’s rather late so I should be going to bed; this has happened:
; I’ve put up the next part of my tour diary (parts one and two now available); I had a few flattering reviews on those two articles on Facebook, i.e. you’re a great writer, can I read your book (answer: no); I have lost a copy of my book, in that my friend has it and we can’t get together for me to get it back; and I spent way too much of today running barefoot on the grass with a friend who’s on crutches and another who runs like a girl. They’re both boys.
I should go to bed, I’m rambling.
Fare thee well!
Oh, and I got pointe shoes. But that was yesterday, I just forgot to say it.