As part of my daily routine, I browse several blogs and sites and so forth. (As we all do.) In my recent browsing, I discovered Coyote Wild, which I'd heard of but had yet to actually lay eyes on at that time. So I opened the most recent issue and saw a story called "Abjure the Realm" by Elizabeth Bear. This author's name was also familiar to me, although I was pretty sure I hadn't actually read anything of hers. Yet. So I read the story. And it was cool. And so very well-written. And I was intimidated and yet also intrigued, because I had it in my mind that at the time I'd first heard her name, she was yet a fledgling writer. So as I often do, I followed the link to her web site, out of both readerly and writerly curiosity. (And I will be adding her to my to-read list, stuffed to the gills as it already is.)
I was more intimidated. This woman is prolific. And from everything I've read thus far by and about her, very intelligent. But I found her blog and I've been following it, and I've discovered something. She IS very intelligent. And talented. And published. But I read things she says in her blog and smile or laugh because I know just what she means. She struggles. She works. She is alternately frustrated by and delighted with her writing.
She's, you know, a person. Who writes. And I find something very comforting about reading her day to day stuff and realizing that in many ways, she's not so very different from me.
Maybe someday someone will read my blog and feel the same way. That would be so very cool.
Other Than Fiction
2 days ago