dear author


Dear Author,

I *still* do not think that word means what you think it means.

Use a dictionary, for fuck’s sake.

Love, me.

Posted in authors, dear author, me, randomness, reading | 2 Comments

the author/pedestal thing revisited


Ages ago, in a galaxy far, far away, I wrote a post about the pedestal we readers tend to put authors on and asked if people really wanted to know everything about an author they liked or if they preferred to to keep their distance.  At the time I said

I have to admit that in many ways I LIKE keeping my head in the sand. I WANT an author I enjoy to remain up on that pedestal I put ‘em on.

Despite having encountered – both directly and indirectly – more and more authors via twitter and various blogs, I find my point of view hasn’t changed.  If anything, social media has intensified my feelings.

While fandoms, authors behaving badly, wankfests, etc don’t necessarily happen on a day-to-day basis, the rapid sharing of information means the incidents that do occur become public knowledge very quickly and are widespread.  Human nature tends to focus on the negative and there is no hiding when the instantness of platforms like twitter sees some responding reactively and without consideration.  Lord help those who type before they think because there is always, always someone watching who is ready to hit the retweet button or take a screen shot.

I’m not about to enter into an academic discussion about social media, blah, blah, nor am I going to deny having been an avid spectator to certain events in the past.  I will say, however, the line between private and public seems to be increasingly blurred and, while there are vast benefits to being part of virtual, global communities, there are also considerable costs.

This pertains to the bookmunity too where authors and readers can easily interact; becoming nodding acquaintances as well as close friends.  Accessibility, though, can be a dangerous thing in such cases because the closer the relationship gets, the harder it will fall.  And we’re not talking about a vague topple from that pedestal here.  Instead, it’s a gory cartoon-like massive high-dive face-plant into a tarnished cheap-arse metal thimble of stagnated, toxic water.  Yeah. Owie.

So, yes, as unfair as it is, I don’t want to know if my favourite authors are actually human.

I’d rather hide under the cotton covers of my four-poster bed, softly smiling in my sleep as I lovingly cradle my cherished book and dream of waif-like authors in billowing, gauzy summer dresses who leisurely take their tea on mismatched fading crockery in glorious, sun drenched gardens with gurgling fountains, plump roses and long-haired cats lying languidly on velvet pillows watching colourful birds and shimmering fairies flit across peaceful ponds beneath hooded eyes and lazily twitching tails that caress the naked feet of the beautiful knowing soul who lovingly creates worlds and crafts tales in well-worn handwritten journals just for you…

Hey, if I’m going to romanticise an author I might as well go all the way, right?


Posted in authors, maybe it's me but, me, serious randomness, the author pedestal thing, twitter | 10 Comments

things that make you go O.o


You know you’ve been reading too many shifter books when you start yelling at the book because the author is doing the mating thing wrong.

Posted in me, paranormal, reading, romance, shifters, things that make you go O_o | 8 Comments

dear author


Dear Author,

‘Awe’ the word is not the same as ‘awww’ the sound.

For all that is good and holy, please just stop.

Love, me.

Posted in authors, dear author, me, randomness, reading, suckage, WTF | 2 Comments

maybe it’s me, but…


Maybe it’s me, but have you ever read something in a story and then gone online to see if it’s the real deal?

The other day found me researching if the appendix was connected to the rectum after reading about it in an mpreg.

Yeah.  I went there.

So, what’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever looked up after you’ve seen it in a book or on the tellie?  Be embarrassed with me.  Please.

Posted in books, m/m, maybe it's me but, me, randomness, reading, things that make you go O_o, WTF | 22 Comments

knock, knock.


Can you believe it’s been something like 2 years since I last posted anything on my blog?  Wow.  Somehow, though, the bookity world has managed to move on without me.

Who knew my awesomeness was all in my head?

Anyways, I’m back *apparently* and, as was the case when I first set up this blog, I have no real idea what I’m doing other than having a vague urge to start talking about books and reading again.

Will it last?  Time will tell.

My aim is to post once a week.  And, hopefully, not get caught up in any shit.

Again, time will tell.

Posted in blogging stuff, books, me, reading | 18 Comments

dear author: ‘research’ is not a dirty word


I recently wrote a post about the wonders of researching and of the miraculous invention known as g00gle.

I was reminded of this when wondering why something in the book I’d just read didn’t gel for me.

Don’t get me wrong; there was nothing particularly crappy about the book.  I liked the writing style, the story line and the characters.  I also thought the issue of mental health was handled reasonably well, especially for m/m where BDSM, the magical healing cock and twu wuv fix all ills.

It was then I realised what it was that was needling me.   It was all to do with one of the characters being described as OCD.

I think ‘OCD’ tends to be a throw-away term to refer to those who are picky, have persnickety ways, etc, etc.  We – and, yes, I’m including myself – tend to use it in a laughing kind of way.  Not nasty per se, but jokingly pointing out the funny-oddness of fussy habits.

As I said, I was one of those people, and I still am in many ways.

OCD was always something I used to describe myself and the things I did.  I was being half-serious about it at the time because deep down I knew it was a very, real issue.  Indeed, my ‘OCD’ became irrevocably embedded in my mental health in the lead up to my ‘episode’ in early 2011 and continues to play a major role in my daily life.

Without a doubt, this, and my mental health as a whole, makes me overly sensitive to the world around me, including characterisations and descriptions trying to portray these kind of a problems.

Regardless, I have to say it…

Dear Authors,  Is it that hard to fucking research?  You seem to be able to use the internet for promo, tweeting about sucky reviews, looking at porn, etc.  Did you not know you could  actually find out other stuff besides certain sexual positions being urban legends or not?  Wankers.  Love, Me.

OCD is not about a way of doing things to a level of  perfectionism a person might have towards their job, their home, their hobby.  OCD is not a quirk or a trait or a habit that comes and goes depending on whether a person is working, cleaning, gardening, building lego, whatever.  And OCD is certainly not something which magically re/disappears.  

Perhaps this is why obsessive and compulsive are used in the actual descriptor of the term, not to mention the behaviours themselves?  Could be.  Maybe there are even different kinds of disorders associated with these behaviours?  I know, right.  What about there being two ‘OC’s’ out there; one relating to Obsessive Compulsive Disorder and the other to Obsessive Compulsive Personality Disorder, and that they mean different things?!  Wow.

Isn’t it amazing what you can research on the internet by just typing in 3 letters.

Who knew.

If there are any authors out there who still read this blog, why don’t you let loose and look up the definition of ‘compulsion’?  Oh, hell.  Forget about it.  Why don’t I just give you the link.

Are you beginning to get a sense of how not-throw-away that ‘OCD’ thing is?  Want some further insight into compulsive behaviours?  Okay then.

It’s not being able to leave your house without going through your routine of making sure everything is put away, wiped down and tidy in every room of the house and all floors have been swept and cleaned.  It’s making sure all the notes and lists to yourself are updated throughout the day. It’s whoknowshowmanytimes-checking all the windows and doors are locked and closed before you got out.  It’s even turning the car around to go back and check the windows and doors just to make sure. It’s when you and everyone else who knows you realises ‘making sure’ is what you use to refer to your compulsion to do things that may or may not be rational to anyone else but you. It’s when you keep getting up from watching the telly at night to get the dust pan and brush to sweep up the cat fur et al only you can see.  It’s when you put them back in their proper place and soon the cycle starts all over again.  It’s when two years after having the family over for Christmas you still can’t get the coffee table back into it’s proper position.  It’s having a panic attack because you’re running out of time to get somewhere, but you HAVE to clean the floor one last time.  It’s sitting on the floor weeping because you can’t get rid of a dirty spot on the floor even when you’re the only one who sees it.  It’s using turpentine and bleach on your hands to get rid of stains.  It’s when one of your new friends in art class asks what’s going on, but it’s only after she pulls you away from cleaning up after someone else to show you you’ve been going around the room and lining things up that you realise something is wrong. It’s when the only control you have in your life – in what’s going on in your head – is what you can do, what you have to do, to make you feel more safe and secure.  It’s when the thought of leaving your safe space terrifies you to the point of having hysterics and panic attacks. It’s your doctors telling you some of you compulsive traits will probably require hospitalisation and intensive therapy to break.  It’s when – no matter how hard you try – you CAN’T stop.  You just can’t.


Doesn’t sound so fucking easy as ‘OCD’ now, does it.

Posted in authors, dear author, important stuff, me, OCD, probably tmi, serious randomness, serious shit, still crazy, thoughts, words | 9 Comments