I wonder how, or if, a person can look at her writing in a completely objective way. Possible? Maybe not. I don’t know. I’d like to think I’m a good writer that tells an interesting story with competent technique. But if that were the case, would I have enough rejection letters to paper the walls of a ballroom in Buckingham Palace? I just finished a book that was supposed to be a mystery, but which was (for me) nonsense start to finish. Illogically plotted, unnecessarily gross, peopled with unsympathetic characters, & sometimes just plain goofy with zombies & animal sacrifices & all kinds of silliness. (Yes, I’m being stalked by a murderous zombie so I think I’ll just take my flashlight & leave the safety of my office to see what made that peculiar shuffling noise at the end of that dark hallway. Really?? What rational woman wouldn’t barricade the door with her desk & call security??? I can’t stand it.) Yet the book is one of a series published by a mainstream publisher – a series likely to go on forever. If people didn’t buy the book, the publisher wouldn’t publish the book & the series wouldn’t have continued through multiple volumes.
Well, I see where that line of thought leads me: straight to a story about a turn-of-the-century werewolf suffragette (do werewolves always have to be male? I think not!) that falls in love with a playboy vampire. O wait. I already wrote that book – but without the werewolf and the vampire. If only I’d known then what I know now I would have titled it “Suck the Blood from my Circled Heart” & I’d be on my way to significant book sales. Well, rats! (Ooooo – another idea! – a story about giant rats living in the wilds of Wyoming that prey on single women homesteaders…)