50 Shades of Green

 

 

It seems unlikely that anyone–especially anyone who’s ever undertaken the head-scrambling angst of setting pen to paper with the intent of composing brillaint, unforgettable prose–could fail to notice  obsess over the boggle-the-mind, runaway-success stories that bolster certain books to the lofty heights of Mega Bestsellerdom .

Far from what would ordinarily be considered masterful or especially remarkable, they are oftentimes books more likely to furrow foreheads, clench lips, and inspire interior chants to boom–Why? How can this be? Where have all the grammar school English teachers gone?–if only in an effort to drown out the not so pretty sour grape spills of Not Fair! WTH!  Because, seriously, How is it even possible that such crappy, hackneyed, over-under written book sell beyond the bounds of a bazillion gigaton?

Deny it if you must.  Insist that you yourself harbor no writerly dreams or aspirations that such a phenomena would sweep in to propel the spine printed with your name.  (And as you continue with your vehement protests, how about we pause here a moment to step in and check your pulse. You know, just to be sure your heart is still beating.)

JUST THE FACTS MA’AM

Reasonable, impossible, or mind-boggling as it may be, the fact remains that someone out there is buying, reading, and talking-up those mega selling books. Many many someones.  Enough someones to dropkick records and propel certain books to the top of the lifetime achievement bazillionare club.

It’s enough to make a green-eyed monster swell to the proportions of Everest.

 

 

 

 

AND THE WINNER IS…

It’s essential to keep in mind that, unlike contestants in the Miss Universe contest,  books are NOT in competition with each other.  Should “50 Shades of Anything” suddenly go spiraling off into oblivion never to be seen in print again, its disappearance would have no impact whatsoever on that truly awesome and magnificent book your book waiting behind curtain number two.  Because, once again, repeat after me: Books Are Not In Competition With Each Other.

ROCKETING BOOKS UP THE CHARTS AND INTO THE STRATOSPHERE

The numbers are about readers. The gazillion, bazillion readers who open their wallets, click the buy-it-now button, pluck down their Visa cards, and spread the word.  They hold the keys to the book lovers kingdom. Simple as that.

If there’s a formula for hitting the sweet spot, I don’t know it. As a writer, I simply aspire to find the words that feel closest to my truth.

Okay, I can hear you thinking… So, what’s up? It’s nice to share 😀

As I Was Saying …

Hum … well, actually, you see … I um …

Okay, so yeah, I don’t quite recall what I was saying. It’s been a long, long while since I last dropped in on my lovely little piece of internet real estate here, and that makes me sad. And a little bit ashamed.

 

WE RUDELY INTERRUPT THIS BROADCAST

I’m generally tougher than that. Am in fact a disciplined, regimented, list-making, task oriented being, and falling off the map is not my standard response when one of those *straight-to-the-gut* sucker punches catches me unawares. Yet this time around the blow was enough of a wallop to send me reeling through the Christmas holiday and straight into the New Year.

REGROUP, REKINDLE, REFRESH

The thing is, getting one’s groove back is no easy task. Whether just returned from a three month trek through the Italian countryside gorging on cheese and salami and copious samplings of Vino (admittedly something I haven’t experienced outside of my head), awaking after months in a coma, or shaking off the dazed confusion of a hit-and-run assault by Life.  Make no mistake, it can be tricky.

A MIND RUNNING ON RANDOM FUEL

It takes a fair amount of random fuel to rekindle the engine, narrow the focus, reset the brain’s GPS.  A matter of unleashing our brain doodles to roll out across an endless pasture where they can wrestle around while we’re trying to remember how to re-saddle the horse that’s dumped us on our bum.  Unchecked scribbles that keep our brains from knocking around in an empty room…

BRAIN OFF THE LEASH (AKA, MINDLESS SCRIBBLES)

… is there any relevance in the fact that all of my favorite numbers are Odd?

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Can I maybe actually really accept that invitation to jump on a plane to New Orleans for Mardi Gras? Dump the guilt of home-bound responsibility–claim it’s necessary research for the WIP though the setting of said novel is rural Maine … unless, right, a flashback. The original designer of flashbacks must have come up with this writers tactic after running away to New Orleans for Mardi Gras.

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Breakfast for Dinner tonight.  Kiddies favorite meal when hubby is away on business and this is the last chance before the bird lands back in the nest tomorrow.

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Politics suck.

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Spanx: sausage casings for humans. The concept works, but the name makes me giggle. Great title: Spanx.  If you loved Fifty Shades of Grey, you’ll adore Spanx.

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Today is the day! I’m gonna reclaim my Mojo and jump back into the sadly neglected wholly abandoned WIP.  Not this instant, but soon. Once I’m done thinking …

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Wowsa, there’s a lot of ellipses in here … I must really like them … see how nicely they fill the spaces in my head …

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Just how long is a Cotton pickin’ minute? Is it longer or shorter than an ordinary minute?

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Done with checking my RANKINGS, LIKES, REVIEWS on Amazon. No really. Done. Finished. What’s more idiotic than angsting over stuff I have little no control over

… wonder if it’s been three minutes yet?

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Oh yeah, but there is that other book I read about on someone’s blog and wanted to check out.  Can’t recall the title just now …  but I’ll remember if I just poke around a little on Amazon. No, really, I’m only looking up that ONE book. Not going near my page. Just having a quick look at that other book that ISN’T mine.

Oh, wait!  Hold on.  Before I take off, how about you take a moment to drop a mindless scribble of your own right here. The floor is yours. What cha thinkin?