In case they might be helpful to you, too, here are a few of my favorites.

Intriguing, Upbeat Mystery To Cure Late Winter Blues

In comedy/drama A Man On The Inside, Ted Danson plays a retired professor who needs something new in his life. He answers an ad for a freelance private investigator to go under cover in a retirement community and solve a crime. I love the follow-the-clues aspect, the great characters (played by many engaging costars), and just plain fun. And it’s been green lit for a new season, which I can’t wait to see.

Find it on Netflix: https://www.netflix.com/title/81677257 

Fun Non-Fiction About Dancing, Stage, And Screen

I just finished The Third Gilmore Girl, a memoir by Tony-award winning actress, singer, and dancer Kelly Bishop. Despite Gilmore Girls in the title, the book is more about Kelly’s entire life and career. It includes her early years as a dancer, her experience as one of many who co-created and starred in the original A Chorus Line on Broadway, and her transition to screen acting, including her role in Dirty Dancing. 

If you have any interest in the world of the performing arts, this is a fun, engaging read. And while Kelly has many hard times, she strikes a note of joy overall in her career and life. 

Learn more on Goodreads by clicking here. 

Favorite Stories To Listen To

I love relistening to Pride and Prejudice in the winter. Revisiting Eliza Bennett, Mr. Darcy, Jane and Bingley, and all the Bennetts brings me so much joy. Narrator Shiromi Arserio’s voice is one I could listen to forever no matter the topic. This is also the one recommendation I have a bit of a role in — I wrote a foreword and afterword for the special edition.

Click here to listen.

Another favorite (and classic) relisten narrated by Shiromi is A Little Princess by Frances Hodgson Burnett. Who can forget little Sara Crewe’s trials when her father the captain dies and her charmed life at Miss Minchin’s school becomes a nightmare. But Sara is so imaginative, hopeful, and kind through it all. And the book is all around fun to listen to or reread. You can find it here (or wherever you buy audiobooks).

Other Ways To Brighten Your Days

Entertainment isn’t the only way to brighten or lighten up your days. I like coloring, leaving a string of holiday lights up, drinking hot cocoa or chocolate tea Sunday mornings while I read fiction for an hour, planning a movie night, and catching up with family or friends I haven’t seen in far too long.

The holiday lights remind me — 

Sometimes people ask how I get so much done. Scheduling and focus help, but I leave a lot undone, too. As I noted recently on Facebook and Instagram, I didn’t get to taking my Christmas tree down until a couple days after Valentine’s Day. I haven’t sent my usual newsletter out in over a month (hopefully I will get to that soon). And laundry…well, let’s just say I spent all day Tuesday doing 5 loads and still have some left.

But I did recently release my new book Buffy and the Art of Story Season Three Part 2: How To Write Characters The Audience Loves (Or Loves To Hate) And Plots They Can’t Put Down, record an audiobook version of The The Tower Formerly Known as Sears and Two Other Tales of Urban Horror, and nearly finish the first draft of my new supernatural suspense novel. 

It’s all a tradeoff. And I’m learning to be okay with that. Which only took me a few decades but better late than never.

I hope you find some of these ideas fun or helpful! Feel free to comment below and share your favorites with me.

Best,

Lisa

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Peek behind the scenes of the new release and all the Q.C. Davis crime novels throughout the day. There’ll be videos, location photos, book excerpts, quotes, and, of course, the traditional all-important book launch quiz.

Win and get a character named after you in the next novel!

Hope to see you on October 9! Click here to join.

The Skeptical Man Book Launch

Justice or illusion? Quille C. Davis risks it all to uncover deadly secrets in the world of magic.

In the mesmerizing world of magic and illusion, lawyer and private investigator Quille C. Davis finds herself entangled in a puzzling murder case. Her task: solve the murder of her dear friend’s husband, a renowned magician with a complicated past.

The victim, Randall Petrov, recently distanced himself from his family’s business. He devoted his energy to a noble cause: a nonprofit that brought the magic of hope to hospitalized children. But in doing so, he stirred up a hornet’s nest of trouble, uncovering corruption and fraud. Additionally, Petrov conducted a daring sting operation that unmasked a fraudulent psychic who preyed upon vulnerable parents seeking solace. Suspicion falls, too, upon his own brother, set to inherit the family business.

Quille delves into the investigation, navigating not only the streets of Chicago, but a mystical European city. Her pursuit of justice comes at a great cost as she finds herself the target of deadly attempts on her life. Quille faces internal turmoil as well. Haunted by the recent resolution of her sister’s decades-old murder, Quille knows firsthand that justice does not always bring closure and healing — especially when it comes to her strained relationship with her parents.

Complicating matters is her long-distance boyfriend. Uncertainty over his return to Chicago leaves Quille torn between loyalty and the allure of an attractive and intelligent musician who aided her in a past investigation.

The Skeptical Man is a riveting mystery that takes readers through an intricate world of magic, family secrets, and personal redemption. Will Quille uncover the truth behind Randall Petrov’s murder, unearth the sinister corruption plaguing the nonprofit, and ultimately find the solace she seeks? Or will she fall prey to the same killer who ended Petrov’s life?

Get your copy today and uncover the truth behind the illusions.

Kindle | Paperback | Large Print (Coming Soon)

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As someone who is happily single, I’m sure I’m not the target audience for the book Wedding Toasts I’ll Never Give by Ada Calhoun. I bought it because I like reading memoirs by authors whose worlds are different from my own. (It’s good for my fiction writing, and I just enjoy learning about other people’s lives.)

I liked the author’s willingness to share anecdotes that didn’t put her in the best light, her humor, and her openness about the challenges of staying married.

Many of the stories resonated with me, as married friends told me similar ones. The book helped me better understand some of their struggles.

But there’s next to nothing in the book that shows why anyone would want to stay married. And everything to suggest it’s a recipe for lifelong unhappiness.

The rare mentions of times the author felt good about being married left me puzzled and a bit sad. I wanted to tell her that you don’t have to endure years of an unhappy marriage just to have someone with whom you share inside jokes or a long history.

You also don’t need to be married to live in a rambling old house rather than an apartment. Or to have one peaceful moment in the course of a decade where you feel all’s right with the world.

Conclusion – Wedding Toasts I’ll Never Give

In all, I expected a realistic and somewhat wry portrait of marriage, which the book delivers. But I thought the realism might include a bit more hope that it’s worth it to surmount the challenges. In the end, though, this book suggests merely not being single/being able to say you’ve been married for a long time is enough. Even if you find marriage to be almost entirely drudgery.

On the other hand, the book might be encouraging if you were terribly unhappy when you were single and so want to stay married no matter what. Or if your marriage is going through a rough patch. The author reassures you you’re not alone in your struggles. And she offers a bit of humor to help you cope.

The post Wedding Toasts I’ll Never Give (Book Review) appeared first on Lisa Lilly.

To figure out challenges for my protagonist, I kept asking What If? 

What If she’s determined to go to medical school and discovers she’s pregnant despite never having had sex? What If her parents, usually supportive, think she’s in denial about her situation? What If when she persists in her “story” they try to have her committed to a psych ward?

And What If someone finally believes her, but he’s from a religious group that warns that she’s about to trigger an Apocalypse? And will very likely die in the process?

Real Life, Anxiety, and Imagination

Those aren’t problems that relate to my life. But asking What If and coming up with the most disturbing possible answer was something I did on a regular basis.

Because in real life, a vivid imagination can send us spinning through endless negative outcomes. Often when we’re lying awake at night, trying desperately to sleep.

All of which is why I wrote Happiness, Anxiety, and Writing.

Using Creativity To Enhance Happiness And Calm

Happiness, Anxiety, and Writing shares ways to use your imagination and writing skills to create a calmer, happier life.

The book includes:

• Techniques to derail anxious thoughts you otherwise repeat;
• Ways to talk to yourself and others that promote calm rather than reinforce worry;
• Specific, targeted exercises to direct your creative mind and imagination in a positive way;
• How and when to write and rewrite the best parts of your life for greater happiness;
• And more.

A Scary Book To Write

It wasn’t easy writing this book.

I included so much of my personal struggles with anxiety and depression that I felt exposed as I wrote. But I wanted to share both my actual experience and what worked for me in the hope that others might find value in it.

That’s why it made me so happy when a reviewer said:

I spent the entire time reading this guide nodding my head because it was as if this book was written especially for me. I thought the solutions given to changing your mindset were simple to execute but had extraordinary results.

If you at times find anxiety plaguing you or interfering with your life, I hope it will help you, too.

Find Happiness, Anxiety, and Writing here:

Kindle
Workbook

P.S. Happiness, Anxiety, and Writing is a Five-Star Reader’s Favorite. Read the full review here.

(As an Amazon Associate I earn from qualifying purchases made through this site, but that doesn’t add any cost to the buyer.)

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The CWA tent will be between Harrison and Polk on Dearborn Street (so around 700 S. Dearborn).

The Lit Fest (formerly called the Printers Row Book Fair) is open June 9 and 10. It spans Dearborn Street from Congress Parkway to Polk, and there are usually tents along Polk and events in the Harold Washington Library too.

Overall, it’s my favorite summer festival. There are tons of authors, speakers, demonstrations (including cooking demonstrations), talks, events for kids, and books books books.

This year due to my broken foot I’ll be managing on a combo of a wheelchair (necessary to get through the crowds without stumbling) and crutches.

I’m sure it’ll still be tons of fun. I’ll have paperback editions of my latest releases The Worried Man (Q.C. Davis No. 1) and The Tower Formerly Known as Sears and Two Other Tales of Urban Horror, as well as books from The Awakening series and the Writing As A Second Career Series.

Hope to see you there!

Lisa

P.S. Here’s the full schedule of authors under the CWA Tent, and here’s the Printers Row Lit Fest website.

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For as long as I can remember, I’ve loved libraries. At five years old, I got my pinkish orange children’s card at the Brookfield Public Library. I was so excited at the idea of this giant (as it appeared to me then) room full of books. My mom set a limit of five at a time, probably the most she figured I could carry home or possibly keep track of. It was not cheap to pay for lost library books.

The Winter Garden at the Harold Washington Public Library

Back then, the Brookfield library had two levels. You walked up concrete steps outside into the main library, then down carpeted stairs to the basement children’s library. I loved the children’s librarian and talked with her every time I went in. The first time I returned books I thought I should put them back where I’d found them, so I dutifully reshelved them. Mrs. Peters explained that they needed to be checked back in. (I like to think she was pleased that I had placed them on the correct shelves.) You got your white adult card when you turned twelve. Graduating to the main library floor was both exciting and sad. I’d visited the children’s library once or twice a week all throughout grade school. In sixth grade, I’d moved on to the young adult books shelves, which were still in the basement. I suspect many of those now would be considered middle grade books, because the subject matters were fairly tame. Much of what was truly young adult literature was classified as adult literature at the time, including Judy Bloom’s novel Forever. (It was controversial because it showed an eighteen-year-old woman having sex for the first time without suffering negative consequences. Books where teenagers got pregnant and had to go away somewhere and have the baby in secret were allowed on the young adult shelves.) In the main library, I discovered my first Mary Higgins Clark novel on the paperback racks. That in itself was new to me, because all the children’s books were in hard cover.

About six or seven years later, the library was torn down. A new one, all on one level and wheelchair accessible, was built. The projected cost of putting in the elevators and ramps had almost matched building anew, which is why the original library wasn’t preserved. The new one was clean and modern, but I missed the old worn carpets and the feeling of descending into an enchanted world when going down the narrow stairs to the basement. The new children’s section, where I occasionally checked out old favorites, was just another room, which was made even clearer when Mrs. Peters retired. Still, in my mid-twenties, one of the more difficult times in my life, I visited the library often. I had been working at temp and secretarial jobs, as I was a good typist, and writing fiction and playing guitar on the side. I developed a repetitive stress injury in my wrists and hands. The surgical options were not good. I stopped working and moved back in with my parents, feeling like a failure. Bouncing back to mom and dad was fairly unusual at that time, unlike now. In the evenings, I paged through career books in the library searching for something else I was qualified to do that didn’t require a lot of keyboarding and that called for a bachelors degree in Writing/English. (Eventually, I attended a graduate program to earn a paralegal certificate. That later led to my becoming a lawyer.)

During that same decade, I lived on and off in another near west suburb that had a beautiful old library overlooking the Des Plaines river. Its enclosed three-season porch became my favorite place to read in the summer and spring. In the winter and fall, I researched at library carrels in front of leaded glass windows overlooking the river. I discovered some new favorite authors as I wandered the stacks. Since most of the books were hardcover library editions, I pulled them based solely on title. It is there I found my first Sara Paretsky book about female private eye V.I. Warshawski. I’ve read every one since. (For why, see Why I Love VI.)

Right before I started law school, I moved to downtown Chicago. For four years, I worked full time while attending school at night. I had little chance to read fiction, but I visited the Harold Washington Public Library once or twice for research. I found it cavernous and without warmth. Built from 1988 through 1991 and designed by architect Thomas Beeby, the Harold Washington is the largest public library in the world. It houses over six million books plus historical collections of Chicago artifacts. Its top floor is the Winter Garden, with a skylight and lots of marble. For all that, I’ve never loved the library as a whole. Its double high ceilings and sprawling undivided floors make the number of books look skimpy, and I’ve yet to find a cozy place to read. On most floors, the lighting is harsh, and there are long library tables with wooden chairs, but no arm chairs or couches.

Partly because of that, even after finishing law school, I rarely went there. I worked so many hours that the few times I borrowed books, I returned them late because it was hard to find time to walk the eight blocks there and back. And I didn’t always finish the books. I actually read much faster than I had before law school, but in a good week I’d have 10-15 minutes to read at night before I went to sleep. At the same time, I suddenly could afford to buy the books I wanted. Some new lawyers at large firms drastically increase their spending on clothes or cars or buy larger homes. I bought books.

That trend mostly continued when I started my own law firm. Though I went on my own to have more time to write, I quickly became nearly as busy as I had been when I was employed at Sonneschein (now Dentons US LLP). I enjoyed my practice more, because I liked running my own business and having a wider variety of responsibilities. How busy I was had more ups and downs, though. Which meant that while I had a little more time to read, that time was less predictable. I might have one or two weeks when I would get home from the office by 6 p.m. each night, so I read for twenty minutes or or so after I finished my evening’s fiction writing. There were other months when I more or less lived at my office. The receptionist used to joke that she was sure I had a cot under my desk. So my visits to the public library were still few and far between.

Then, last spring, after spending about two years gradually slowing down my law practice, I flipped my work life so that I now focus about three-quarters of my work week on writing and one-quarter on law, with lots of what I’d call writing adjacent activities, such as reading, in my free time. (I also now actually cook and eat at home fairly often rather than eating out or at my office, which has felt very nice.) So recently it occurred to me that I had time to go to the library. I remembered the Harold Washington as rather cold, too big, and not inviting. No doubt, all those things are still true, as it has not been significantly remodeled. Yet, as I rode up the escalator for the second time in two weeks, the smell of paper and aging book covers made me feel like I had come home. The rows of stacks once again offered worlds of possibility. I’d forgotten how much I loved meandering shelves perusing different titles. Now I can try authors I’ve never read before, because my reading isn’t limited to fifteen minutes snatches in between other work. Instead, I can read uninterrupted for an hour or more sipping a cup of Earl Grey tea or a glass of Pinot Noir.

No doubt my next visit to the library and the next after that will seem less novel and amazing, and eventually it will be routine. And that in itself is wonderful. In this country more books than any one person could read in a lifetime are available for free. And while libraries have expanded to provide access to the Internet, ebooks, and numerous other services, those rows of books remain, for me, a huge part of what magic and joy are all about.
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After discussing the book, I started  thinking about whether the story would change were the characters’ genders reversed. I’ve tried not to include too many spoilers in my thoughts below, but if you haven’t read Rebecca, proceed with caution.

• The age difference between the narrator and de Winter would be a more pivotal part of the story and would be addressed directly if Maggie de Winter, a fortyish widow, married a young male about twenty years old. As written, while a few comments are made about Max marrying a “young bride,” and the narrator’s youth combined with her social class makes her uncomfortable running Manderley, the age difference is rarely remarked upon. Further, no one questions that the narrator in Rebecca truly loves with Max de Winter. Understanding her actions at the end of the book turns on that. Readers might speculate far more about whether a young male narrator with no resources of his own married Maggie de Winter solely for her money.
• If the first spouse were named Reginald rather than Rebecca, he might never have married. We eventually learn that Max de Winter was shocked and revolted when soon after their marriage Rebecca told him of horrible things she had done and expected to continue to do. While not spelled out, her “awful” behavior is that she was sexually active. Given the desire to continue to have multiple sexual partners, a man in the 1930s would be more likely to be able to support himself or to have inherited money or property, making it less likely that he would choose to enter a relationship that is by definition monogamous. Also, it seems more likely Reginald’s sexual exploits would have been forgiven or at least tolerated even after marriage, thus avoiding the central conflict between de Winter and Spouse No. 1. 

• The issue that most enrages de Winter—that Rebecca might have a baby that is not his who would then inherit his estate—also would disappear for biological reasons. If Reginald had sex resulting in progeny, Maggie de Winter would know the child was not hers, nor would the child inherit from Maggie.

• The underlying premise of the book would fail. Next to the opening line about Manderley, the most well-known aspect of Rebecca is that the reader never learns the narrator’s name. When she is named at all, she is the “second Mrs. De Winter.” (Rebecca at least gets a first name, as well as having the novel named after her, though we don’t know what her last name was before de Winter.) One of the most striking scenes to me is when the narrator answers her first call at Manderley and, when the caller asks for Mrs. de Winter, says in confusion that Mrs. de Winter is dead. All of that changes if a male narrator marries Maggie de Winter, whose first spouse was named Reginald. First, “de Winter” probably wasn’t Maggie’s name, as she no doubt changed hers to her husband’s when she married the first time. So Reginald’s first and last name become known, and Maggie’s original last name is unknown. Second, when Maggie married again, she almost certainly would have changed her last name to the male narrator’s. And if she didn’t, it’s highly unlikely the male narrator would change his to match hers. Even today, 70-80% of women in the U.S. take their husband’s last name on marriage, and I could not find statistics on how many men take their wives’ last names (so I’m guessing not many). In short, a book about a “second Mr. de Winter” would be far more likely to be about, say, the son of a president than the second spouse of an older, well-to-do woman. 

• Finally, were the book named Reginald rather than Rebecca and the protagonist male, the book might have gotten a better reception from critics. Critics dismissed Rebecca as a romance and of no consequence. Happily for du Maurier, readers loved it, and Alfred Hitchcock, master of suspense, made it into a movie. Published in 1938, the book is considered a classic and has never gone out of print. As I write this, out of over 20 million paperback books on Amazon, Rebecca’s Amazon Best Seller rank is 4,248.

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It seems like some subjects, genres, or aspects of writing should make the distinction easy to draw, but I suspect other not so obvious factors are at work. For example, last month my women’s book group read a book I normally would never have picked up. It’s a coming of age novel told by a first person narrator. The story, to the extent there is one, revolves around sexual tastes and practices the general public considers unusual. The dialogue struck me as preposterous, and the narrative includes annoying catch phrases and repetition. All my critiques makes this sounds like a book in one of those genres that’s most often labeled trash, such as erotica or romance. Fifty Shades of Grey, perhaps. But no, what I read was In One Person by John Irving. After the book was released in 2012, Time magazine called Irving a “literary legend.”

For those not that familiar with the two novels, Fifty Shades was initially self-published as an e-book in 2011. It is about a young woman who is a virgin. Her first sexual relationship is with a man whose proclivities include bondage and discipline. In One Person was traditionally published. Written as if it were a memoir of a man in his sixties or seventies, it focuses on the narrator’s first sexual relationship, which is with a transsexual (this is the word the author uses), as well as his many subsequent sexual experiences as he matures. I did not like either book. After the first chapter, I skimmed both. The critiques I listed above I had about both books. Yet E.L. James (the pen name of the Fifty Shades author) is generally considered a writer of trash and John Irving is lauded as a literary giant.

Here are my ideas about why:

Emotional Distance or Closeness: One reason I don’t like many literary novels is that, as with Irving’s book, I often feel disconnected from the characters. While I didn’t love Fifty Shades, I had no doubt how narrator Anastasia felt about her love interest, her life, her sex life, her friends, etc. I had empathy for her. In contrast, I never quite feel what Irving’s main character, whose name I’ve forgotten, feels. His sex scenes are detailed to say the least—I’ve never read or heard anything that included so many uses of words for male and female anatomy—but, to me, not compelling. They are told with a tone of irony and detached observation. Most novels I was required to read in high school and college had that type of distance between the author’s voice and the characters. Most were written using an omniscient narrator. In that style, the narrator knows all about everything, sometimes even intruding and commenting on the plot or the characters’ choices, but stays a bit removed and above it all. Current fiction tends to set the reader right in the characters’ hearts and minds. I think this has led to associating “literature” with distance and popular fiction (which for some equals “trash”) with emotional connection. Though certainly there are literary writers, such as Dorothy Allison, whose work I find almost too hard to read due to the depth of the characters’ emotions.

Guilt/Entertainment: Many people feel guilty about enjoying reading. If a book is fun and they can’t put it down, they believe it must not have literary merit. On the other hand, if most people groan when they hear the title and say, “Ugh, yeah, I had to read that in school,” or if at the very least it takes effort and planning to get yourself to sit on the couch and open it, then a novel must be good, it must be literary. So a fast read like a Jonathan Kellerman or a Mary Higgins Clark is trash, and a novel that plods along where you don’t care one way or another about the characters must be literary. Again, I think this is a holdover from high school and college.

What the Book is About: I don’t mean the subject of the main storyline. In One Person and Fifty Shades of Grey are both about sexual awakening and experiences. But the former also explores sociological and political questions such as how the main character’s family responds to him and his orientation, what role heredity and environment may or may not play in sexuality, and how society treated and treats people who are bisexual. In contrast, for the most part, Fifty Shades focuses on the personal relationship between Anastasia and her love interest and leaves larger questions about society untouched. This is not to say that a reader couldn’t extrapolate from Anastasia’s experiences and feelings to a larger theme, but, to me at least, that isn’t in the text of the book. (Perhaps this is why I saw Irving’s book referred to as “literary porn,” while Fifty Shades is often called “mommy porn.”) This criteria is one that, for me, often divides what I think of as pure of-the-moment entertainment versus a book that makes me keep thinking about it long after I’ve finished. But I’ve felt this way about both books that are considered literary and those that are considered genre or mainstream fiction, such as certain Stephen King novels, my favorite being The Dead Zone.

The Education Needed to Read And Understand the Book: By education, I don’t mean level in school, but the breadth of knowledge a person needs to understand the book. I suspect this is a principal reason Shakespeare was considered entertainment for the masses when originally performed and is now considered literary. For most of us, enjoying Shakespeare’s plays takes a certain amount of knowledge of the times in which they were written and the changes in the language since then. That can be gained through reading an annotated text or joining literature classes or discussion groups, but it takes more effort than, say, a detective novel. So readers of Shakespeare and similar books may see themselves as smarter, more educated, and more like serious readers even if they only read a few books a year, while I tend to think of serious readers as those who love to read book after book after book.

The Gender of the Author and the Main Character: Look at any overall list of best literary fiction and you’ll find it dominated by men, and white men at that. This is starting to change, so now you’ll find women writers and writers of color included in literary book lists for recent years. All the same, being male helps if you want to be considered a serious author. Something else I’ve noticed is that a coming of age book about a young woman is generally considered a genre or young adult book (think Are You There God, It’s Me Margaret, or anything else by Judy Blume if you’re my age or the Hunger Games or Divergent novels), and thus, to some people, a lesser sort of book—a sentiment with which I disagree. A coming of age book about a young man, however, is often considered literary. Think about The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn or Catcher in the Rye. There are exceptions; for instance, I found To Kill a Mockingbird on one list of literary coming of age novels (along with 9 books about boys/men). Likewise, when women write about sexual or romantic love, by and large it is considered trash—think of the view of most everyone you know about romance or “women’s” novels. When men write about sexual exploits, though, it is literary. Ask Vladimir Nabokov and John Irving.

The Track Record of the Author: This is the one that probably applies most directly to the two books I’ve been comparing. Fifty Shades of Grey began as fan fiction (fiction where the writer adopts characters of an already existing book, movie, or television show) based on the Twilight series. The author was an unknown in the fiction world. Only after she self-published it as an e-book and it became wildly popular did a traditional publisher take it on. John Irving, in contrast, had twelve novels published before In One Person, for the most part to critical acclaim. Based on his pedigree, I assumed when reading In One Person that Irving deliberately chose for stylistic reasons to have the narrator retell various anecdotes and refer to his uncle and other characters a gazillion times by nicknames such as “The Racket Man.” (Or “racquetman,” I’m not sure, as I listened rather than read and didn’t care enough about any of the characters to track it down or figure it out from context.) On the other hand, knowing the history of Fifty Shades of Grey, I assumed that when the entire contract between the narrator and her love interest was included word-for-word more than once, it was because the story initially had been told in serial fashion, so the author had repeated it for readers who hadn’t started at the beginning, then not thought to edit it out when transforming the work into one complete novel. Similarly, I ascribed catch phrases that made me cringe to inexperienced writing. In short, while I didn’t like either writing style, I concluded Irving was trying to achieve an effect that just didn’t work for me, while E.L. James’ novel needed another round or two of rewriting or editing. Accurate in either case? Maybe, maybe not.

As for my own writing, as in reading fiction, plot matters to me most, then character, then the writing style, but I strive for all three to be as strong as possible. And I don’t consider anything I read “trash,” just a book or style or subject that’s not for me. What about you? Do read—or write—anything you would call trash? If so, what does that mean to you?

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The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe

The post What Books Are You Thankful You Read? (Favorite Books Post No. 4) appeared first on Lisa Lilly.

My favorite book on those shelves was The Elegant Witch. Set in England in the early 1600s, the writing style and sense of irony remind me of Jane Austen, but the plot and mood is suspense/mystery. Protagonist Margery, youngest sibling and misfit in her Puritan family, is sent to live with her kinsman Roger, a Justice of the Peace in the small town of Pendle. Mysterious deaths and illnesses occur often in Pendle and accusations of witchcraft are common. Margery is smart and brave, and she helps Roger with his Justice of the Peace duties and helps unravel the source of the evil in Pendle. (See my full review here.)

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