So it’s almost Thanksgiving. Time to proclaim all that you are grateful for. Family, friends, the whole bit. Yeah, whatever. But first I have to share what I’m NOT thankful for. I’m a big fan of angst, so here is what I’m most angsty about this year:
The, um, horrendous, puke-worthy, depressing state of the book market. It’s terrible. It’s a nightmare to sell a book, unless you’re, say, Stephanie Meyer; then you can re-write the phone book so that “Andrews, Marcia” spends her time pining over the immortal, hunky, fanged “Fitzpatrick, Alan.” (Yeah, yeah, I read the whole series, too. And I’m team Edward. All the way.) Meanwhile, stupid, stupid, awful books like Palin’s “Going Rogue” and that vapid Heidi and Spencer’s book, “How to Be Famous” are selling like H1N1 vaccines on the black market. Who is reading this crap? Please read something good. It doesn’t have to be a sleep-inducing tribute to academia, or a lengthy philosophical novel that makes you want to slit your wrists. Keep your brain challenged or drown yourself in a fun fantasy world. Just please don’t pay money for total junk. Normally I’d tell you to read anything. Anything! But I can’t do it. Have some sort of quality filter. There are wonderful talented authors out there who deserve your money. And Palin and the Brat Pratts are not in that category. Until this market changes, I beg you to throw your support towards writers that deserve to be published.
On the positive end of things, besides the obvious big stuff (like going to the Rick Springfield concert and drinking Coolattas all summer), there is a lot to be grateful for on the seemingly-less-important-but-actually-VERY-important front: living on the east coast so that I get to see unedited versions of live events (ie: Adam Lambert getting simulated...pleasure... from another man on the AMAs), Levi Johnston posing in Playgirl, a delightful season of “Flipping Out,” Lady Gaga’s reliable wearing of freakish outfits, John Mayer’s tweets, Michael Scott dating Pam’s mother on “The Office,” my dog learning not to eat absolutely every inanimate object in the house, the electric mattress pad that is making me think it might not really be almost winter, and the Awkward Family Photos site.
Oh. And family and friends. Of course. (Hi, Rick!)
-Jessica
Comments
Plans for the day: book shopping.
As far as what I am grateful for this year--kids, spouse, parents, horses, dogs, cat (sort of the cat)--all the usual stuff. Friends.
Not so typical things I am thankful for this year--the way I smell after riding. I know strange but I like it--earthy and and animal, oh never mind. Fifth graders who think I'm a rock star (see next week's posts), that my 8 yr. old daughter sings along with me to Alice in Chains and No Doubt, Trader Joe's wine guys who convince me that their $5.00 wines are truly worth 90 points, the fact that I write on a blog that has to have an adult content warning on it, My Gwen Stefani Bratz doll, My little Buddha statues next to my rosary and Mary statues in my room, good books--UNDERLINE GOOD--and Hugh Jackman.
Not-so-thankful for--laundry, having to clean toilets, dog crap on my lawn, cat screeching at me for breakfast at 5:30 in the morning, BAD books written by undeserving people who I can't even call authors much less writers and making a gazillion bucks at it (yes, this one really pisses me off--JP has covered examples here), Big publishers deciding to go vanity and take advantage of writers, anyone and everyone out there who charges up the ying yang for marketing services for writers, broken contracts, promises, anything broken (don't ask), and Lady Gaga's wardrobe. Please! Someone get that girl a personal shopper with some taste.
In Gratitide,
Michele