Actually, this was going to be my pre-Martha Beck post but I tend to get a little excited when I find real-life stuff that relates to writing.
This post is all writing-related.
I’ve been reading a book for a review. I used to do a lot of reviewing but cut back about a year ago. This one’s a fiction title I’m doing for a review site I work with. I was intrigued by the premise, so I took it off the shelf. It’s an erotica, which I don’t mind reviewing, just have to post under the pen name. It’s a novella, so it was a quick (one-night) read.
And that’s about the only good stuff I can say about it.
Don’t get me wrong. It’s not the sub-genre. I’ve read some fan-tabulous erotica authors (Angela Knight, JC Wilder, Rosemary Laurey come to mind, for starters). It’s the book itself. It comes from a great, popular publisher that I’ve read tons of stuff from, and almost always like. As I mentioned, I LOVED the premise.
But the story sucked.
I couldn’t bring myself to care about the characters. All the heroine did was sob about her ex (boyfriend, husband. I forget) and feel sorry for herself. While that happens in life, if it happens in fiction, it should be a spoonful with a purpose, not a cup full to be dumped. As for the hero, I was told repeatedly how sexy he was, and occasionally shown how sexy he was (although any character younger than my 29 year-old brother doesn’t qualify as “sexy”, he qualifies as “a kid”). He didn’t come across as true male because of a few of his actions, but that was a minor offense.
The story goes along nicely, if blandly. The heroine is a simple lady, not a sensual thought in her head. But when the hero is introduced, it’s like Mrs. Jekyll and Hyde. Stuff happens to the heroine that literally shocked me out of the story. Not what happened–I can handle that. More of how out-of-character-for-the-character-I’d-just-been-reading it was.
Think: Miss Beadle in “Little House on the Prairie” (the first teacher) turns into Catherine Tramell (Sharon Stone’s alter-ego in “Basic Instinct”)..then back again.
Freaky, huh? That’s a pretty good assessment. (I know. Take a little time to think that one over…LOL). Over and over and over. Just s*x for the sake of s*x, not the sake of furthering plot or character.
Well, that was my reading night. To make matters worse, the book was HORRIBLY (or, quite possibly, not at all) edited. Tense shifts, point of view changes, the hero internalizing thoughts the heroine should have had…it took everything in me not to pull out the red pen and edit the damn thing as I read.
At the end, I was so disheartened. I loved the premise. Still do. But the quality of writing, the depth of emotion, the story delivery fell so short I feel like I completely wasted those hours of my life and should demand a refund.
The worst part about this is that I still have to write a review. Mind you, I’ve written not-so-favorable reviews before (only one that I actually recall). I completely document the reasons why, because I don’t believe writers should be criticized (their stories, anyway) without solid proof, but I also don’t believe people should spend money on a story that is more of a brainstorming session without structure.
Since getting my own story published, I’ve developed an extra sensitivity to the whole review process. Waiting for those first reviews can make you want to throw up. (at least me). I don’t want to make anyone feel bad about their work, but this one is truly worse than the bag of forgotten lettuce I found in the back of the fridge last week.
Stories are our babies. We fuss and play with them for weeks or months in our minds before we let them into the world. Who wants to hear they have an ugly baby? I’m going to need extra help with this one…
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