Annie Wilkes Anyone?
You know you’re reading a great book when you fall in love with a dwarf.
My husband was right (curses!). Love, love, love A Song of Ice and Fire series. George A.A. Martin is my new favorite author. He has a good, clean writing style that doesn’t get in the way of the story, and no-one sows the seeds of conflict better than Martin. I am constantly on the edge of anticipation and that’s heady stuff.
Then there’s Jon Snow, a character who adds a good amount of lust to that anticipation. Of course, my take on Jon Snow’s physical attributes are probably heightened because I envision Tom Pelphrey (who plays Jon Randall) on “The Guiding Light.” (No tittering, please. My great-grandmother listened to it on the radio; it’s a family tradition.)
But the conflict! As a writer, I have a hard time intensifying conflict in my books. It just doesn’t come easily. It should. I create enough of it in my own life. Anyway, I read with glee the chapter where Jaime and his captor, Brienne, engage in a swordfight, a natural culmination of the aggression they feel toward each other. Jaime once broke his sacred vow as a knight and killed the king; Brienne holds this honor as her guiding principle in life. There you have it – textbook conflict. Yet Martin takes this conflict and deftly uses physical conflict to intensify the underlying emotions. If it were a romance novel, the scene would be a perfect example of how to build sexual tension. Alas, I fear Jaime’s she-devil of a sister has him forever whipped.
So…writing…have I written anything lately? No. I eat, sleep, and dream these damn books. The only base in reality I have these days is caring for my infant son whom I no longer call by his given name. Instead, he is Little Rickon and his lovey? Why, Shaggydog, of course.
Thankfully, I only have one more book left to read before the long winter of waiting for Mr. Martin to finish writing the rest of his series. The waiting is not nearly as bad as the all-consuming fear that the author will die before he finishes unless a crazed fan goes all Misery on him and forces him to write. Not me of course. He’s have to share my bed and I’m not positive Keith will appreciate that.
If the unthinkable happens and he goes before his time, I’m sure that same fan will pen the rest of the series, which would be a terrible fate. I’d swear not to read them but I would succumb eventually, much like I did with the sequel to Gone With the Wind. I did not enjoy that book. I felt dirty the whole time and it spoiled the purity of Mitchell’s work.
Gotta go. Tyrion the Dwarf just married S…well, I won’t spoil it for you newbies just coming down with the disease.
My husband was right (curses!). Love, love, love A Song of Ice and Fire series. George A.A. Martin is my new favorite author. He has a good, clean writing style that doesn’t get in the way of the story, and no-one sows the seeds of conflict better than Martin. I am constantly on the edge of anticipation and that’s heady stuff.
Then there’s Jon Snow, a character who adds a good amount of lust to that anticipation. Of course, my take on Jon Snow’s physical attributes are probably heightened because I envision Tom Pelphrey (who plays Jon Randall) on “The Guiding Light.” (No tittering, please. My great-grandmother listened to it on the radio; it’s a family tradition.)
But the conflict! As a writer, I have a hard time intensifying conflict in my books. It just doesn’t come easily. It should. I create enough of it in my own life. Anyway, I read with glee the chapter where Jaime and his captor, Brienne, engage in a swordfight, a natural culmination of the aggression they feel toward each other. Jaime once broke his sacred vow as a knight and killed the king; Brienne holds this honor as her guiding principle in life. There you have it – textbook conflict. Yet Martin takes this conflict and deftly uses physical conflict to intensify the underlying emotions. If it were a romance novel, the scene would be a perfect example of how to build sexual tension. Alas, I fear Jaime’s she-devil of a sister has him forever whipped.
So…writing…have I written anything lately? No. I eat, sleep, and dream these damn books. The only base in reality I have these days is caring for my infant son whom I no longer call by his given name. Instead, he is Little Rickon and his lovey? Why, Shaggydog, of course.
Thankfully, I only have one more book left to read before the long winter of waiting for Mr. Martin to finish writing the rest of his series. The waiting is not nearly as bad as the all-consuming fear that the author will die before he finishes unless a crazed fan goes all Misery on him and forces him to write. Not me of course. He’s have to share my bed and I’m not positive Keith will appreciate that.
If the unthinkable happens and he goes before his time, I’m sure that same fan will pen the rest of the series, which would be a terrible fate. I’d swear not to read them but I would succumb eventually, much like I did with the sequel to Gone With the Wind. I did not enjoy that book. I felt dirty the whole time and it spoiled the purity of Mitchell’s work.
Gotta go. Tyrion the Dwarf just married S…well, I won’t spoil it for you newbies just coming down with the disease.
Labels: George R.R. Martin

