Being a writer, when you're reading someone else's work, what stops you from finishing a book/throws you out of the story/frustrates you the most about other people's books?~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Happy New Year, Everyone!
I hope that you and your loved ones are safe, healthy, and happy
and that you are looking forward to a much better year than 2020.
I'm anticipating lots of fun visiting around this IWSG Day,
hearing your news, and reading answers to this month's question.
Reading has been my constant and favorite pleasure throughout my life.
I don't remember a time I couldn't read.
I was reading before I went to kindergarten,
and in Grade One I was already an avid reader.
My favorite thing about Grade One was reading.
I dearly loved Dick, Jane, and Sally, and I had my own teddybear just like Tim.
Grade One was a traumatic year for me.
My mother nearly died from Graves Disease and disappeared for months,
my father attempted suicide, and my brother and two sisters and I were left
in the care of my paternal grandmother who suffered from debilitating depression.
An ax murderer was on the loose in our area,
and the house next door burned down one dark night.
Reading became my comfort and my escape.
Donnie, Louise (Me with a Stray Cat), and Roy
I so wanted a Puff of my own.
Atholville, New Brunswick, Canada ~ 1956/57
© M. Louise (MacBeath) Barbour/Fundy Blue
All Rights Reserved
One disconnect in my tumultuous six-year old life was my reading at home.
I left Dick, Jane, and Sally at school and raced home to read encyclopedias.
I didn't find this strange or surprising. It was normal for me.
I was a voracious and indiscriminate reader
loving whatever reading material I put my hands on:
the antics of Spot and Puff, the power of earthquakes and volcanoes,
the lamassu of Ancient Assyria, or the stash of mystery magazines in the bathroom.
The Lowering of the Bull (Lamassu)
Frontispiece, A popular account of discoveries at Nineveh by Austen Henry Layard, 1851
The lamassu is a celestial being from ancient Mesopotamian religion
bearing a human head, bull's body, sometimes with the horns and the ears of a bull, and wings.
It appears frequently in Mesopotamian art.
Sixty some years later, I am still that voracious and indiscriminate reader.
The last time I remember not finishing a book was in 1983 or 1984.
I don't remember its title or author, just my bedroom lamp
and writing so rotten that even I couldn't stomach it.
As a reader, I appreciate a good plot, strong characters, and lyrical writing.
I've been compelled by Shakespeare's tragedies,
the squiggles of my three-year old niece Deirdre,
and everything in between because something grabbed my heart.
Over the years I've become more forgiving as a reader.
That comes from decades of working with the youngest authors
and from my own humbling experiences as a writer searching for words.
I'll give even a flawed book more than a chance.
Few writers are a William Shakespeare, a Peter Matthiessen, or a Liu Cixin,
but each writer is unique and has a story to tell.
Write from your heart, give me truth and authenticity as you see it,
and I'll finish your book.
(In print. My eyes can't handle ebooks.)
Shakespeare's First Folio, 1623
Matthiessen's The Snow Leopard
Liu Cixin's The Three-Body Problem
I didn't write in December.
I had a painful shoulder injury in November
which I aggravated while slogging through NaNoWriMo.
The consequences cascaded through my body
and left me unable to work on my computer,
use my arms and legs normally, or function without painkillers.
This rocked my world!
I couldn't count on my arm to lift a cup of coffee to warm in the microwave.
My arm would drop, cup crashing and coffee spilling.
I hobbled about unable to count on a leg to lift me up on a step.
My leg would fail, and I would stumble or fall.
Here I am, living to climb to the top of the Duomo again in Florence,
and how could I do that, if I my legs wouldn't mount a small step?
I couldn't even tackle our Christmas tree!
I almost plunged into a debilitating depression, my genetic curse.
Tourists Viewing Florence
from the top of the Duomo's Cupola Florence, Italy
September 2018
© M. Louise (MacBeath) Barbour/Fundy Blue
All Rights Reserved
Thankfully those Duomo stairs and that Christmas tree kept calling.
With the help of many massages and foam rolls from Terry,
weeks of doctor and trainer-prescribed exercises,
epsom salt baths and endless stretching,
I slowly recovered.
One day I managed to stand on a step stool and help string a few lights on our tree,
days after Terry hefted its segments up the stairs, put it together, and untwisted its branches.
We got her done in time for Christmas morning!
I Love Christmas!!!
Christmas Morning, 2020
© M. Louise (MacBeath) Barbour/Fundy Blue
All Rights Reserved
Now all my limbs are working, and I'm regaining my strength;
but no more all-nighters at the computer allowed
if I want to reach the cupola on top of the Duomo.
This Tourist Looks Down
from the top of the Duomo's Cupola
Florence, Italy
September 2018
© M. Louise (MacBeath) Barbour/Fundy Blue
All Rights Reserved
Probably no more NaNoWriMo either, but there are worst things in life.
I hope you had a happy holiday season however you celebrated it.
Wishing you all the best in 2021!
Happy IWSG Day and happy writing in January.
My favorite thing under our Christmas Tree!
Christmas Morning, 2020
© M. Louise (MacBeath) Barbour/Fundy Blue
All Rights Reserved
Till next time ~
Fundy Blue
