Ouch.

[constance]

I mentioned the other day that my next door neighbor brings to me offerings of romance novels, and some of the authors I've read before and like and some I've tried to read and can't, and today at lunch I picked up a copy of a Virginia Henley novel and I'm afraid that while I've never read Virginia Henley before I won't be reading much of her in the future, because the first paragraph nearly made me want to claw my eyes out:

Submerged up to her breasts in the forest pool, the flame-haired girl shivered deliciously at the feel of icy water on her skin. She had waited all winter for this first spring dip. Jane Leslie had a wild, untamed streak like the forest creatures with whom she was able to communicate. Because she had this special gift, animals trusted her and came to her hand without fear.

I mean, if it were a single sentence, don't you think it'd merit inclusion in the Bulwer Lytton contest?

It didn't really get any better, either. I read a few pages further in, and not even the bestiality on pages 3-4, wherein she's, ahem, sensually assaulted by a lynx (foreshadowing! The hero's name is Lynx, which is of course a fine old Norman name! Such subtlety!), was enough to revive my interest.

So I quit. But I've been thinking this all day: why aren't we all published novelists? Because whether we plan to be published or not, we're all exponentially better writers than this.

Comments

[soliloquia.livejournal.com]

We aren't novelists because there is no logic in the publishing world! Because a great bulk of writing isn't published because it deserves it but because of its curiosity value, or 'dirty secret' dynamics. Sadly, being published is not an award. (He! Just to answer the question you already knew the answer to.)

*partakes of the sour grapes*

[tofty.livejournal.com]

Sometimes publication feels like an award, though, when seasoned authors are allowed to get sloppy after their millionth book (where this one falls on Henley's publication list, I'm not quite sure, but she's written a ton of 'em).

I keep remembering the story about how one of Joan Collins's novels was such shit that her publishers refused to release it, and given something like this (and the fact that there are lots of other veteran authors who keep publishing no matter how crappy their work gets), I can't even imagine how bad that Collins novel must have been.

On the other hand, my neighbor adored this book--said it was one of the best she's read in a very long time--so I guess somebody's doing something right.

[laurelwood.livejournal.com]

I tried for a good 5 minutes to turn the above stinking paragraph into a one-sentence, Bulwer-Lytton-worthy entry, but failed. At least it was entertaining, even if it was fruitless.

[tofty.livejournal.com]

I took this up as a challenge, and it's harder than it looks! I think the problem is that there are two separate things going on, and it's hard to put them together seamlessly. I had to cheat to get this:

Flame-haired Jane Leslie, submerged up to her breasts in the forest pool, had waited all winter for this first spring dip, and she shivered deliciously at the feel of icy water on her skin (like the forest creatures with whom she was able to communicate -- animals trusted her and came to her hand without fear because of her special gift).

[amelia-eve.livejournal.com]

sensually assaulted by a lynx

You win teh internets for that phrasing of your own. It was non-con, but irresistable.

[tofty.livejournal.com]

hahahahahahahaha your icon is fabulous!

And while I, sad little bourgeoise that I am, can't imagine being turned on by being run down and licked all over by a lynx, I also can't deny that flame-haired Jane Leslie found it quite stimulating! :D

[tinderblast.livejournal.com]

I've wondered this. Once I'd read some really good fan fiction and realised that it was better than loads of published tripe, I started to think ... just how easy is it to get published, despite what people say?

[tofty.livejournal.com]

You know what I think? That once an author's proven he or she can sell books, they can write anything they want and it'll be published, no matter how unremittingly, horrifically bad it might be. I think this is an appalling shame, but it's not like I can do a single thing about it.