MemberMay 21, 2020 at 12:46 am
They say you lose your reader at the first sentence so I’ll keep this intro nice and short:
Okay, so maybe that’s a bit too scant for the general public. Good news is, you’re probably reeled into this post right now.
Let’s start with the basics:
Tired of side-eying a chunk of repetitive Jewish literature consuming valuable real estate on my bookshelf, I set out to write the type of fiction I wanted to read about. Kind of untraditional considering you’re supposed to write for the reader.
I guess I am my own reader.
So that’s an epiphany there.
Let’s backtrack a bit.
After attempting to satiate my literary hunger by consuming all available Jewish books during my tween years, my literary palate hit a finicky sort of state. All of a sudden, only the finest fiction was deemed qualified to pass the first sentence mark. A lot of books didn’t even make it past the first page, and I felt horrible setting them aside while knowing that they were birthed and bled by someone who could’ve been me. I decided that a) Why risk embarrassing myself by trying to produce maybe- cringe-inducing material when I could be doing something benign like harvesting radishes? And b) Writing isn’t just about flinging characters and plots on a page and trimming it off with purple prose. It involves hard work like amassing frightening amounts of research to ensure verisimilitude. You say you’ve got an incredible imagination? Not enough, sis.
So that was a blow.
Nevertheless, as I alarmingly took stock of the shrinking amount of titles I was satisfied with, I girded myself with strength and set pen to paper. I also began analyzing my favorite books to discover why they enchanted me (or not!). By taking stock, I realized I had developed an intolerance to unremarkable characters, recurrent plots, sloppy structure, and dull dialogue. Clichés took eyesore to a new level. Even a redundant adjective had me wincing. I was tired of preachy morals.
I just wanted to read to be entertained.
Well, that’s a fun way to introduce one’s self. Come across as bashy and judgmental as if I had published my works before and won several literary awards.
Shocker: I haven’t. Aside from my school journals, that is. Fear of putting myself out there kept me on the ice.
Also, I was kinda hard on myself.
Okay. Who am I kidding? More than kinda. More like my inner critic is sneering right now and stabbing the page with a spindly crooked finger, urging me to scrap this thing kinda-hard-on-myself-situation.
But ladies. I seek not to scare your or my stories a-skitter. For beneath the critical eye lies a literary hungry caterpillar seeking to sink her teeth into an immersive read.
And also, a humble heart that believes in potential talent.
Hence, my great faith in this talented group I look forward to receiving and providing support to. My appreciation to Riva the Rad for gifting this platform to us. May she be blessed, that girl.
Signing off as an ever-so-hopeful Masterpiece member,