Mon Dec 8 23:37:52 GMT 2008
I've been reading Steinbeck's East of Eden this past week or so, which cannot help but hammer home all the hopeless failings of what I can remember of my nanowrimo prose. I love Steinbeck's writing; it is compact, dense and somehow stolid, it is almost terse in its economy at times, and yet is beautifully lyrical.
And over all the shadowy screech owls sailed, drawing a smudge of fear below them on the ground.
Whilst I was actually writing nano, I was reading Neil Gaiman's American Gods for the umpteenth time. That's another cracking book, and another great writer. It's a book which uses America as a metaphor and a subject via (natch) a war between gods. It's wonderfully creative and imaginative, but without going over the edge into the absurd.
These might seem to be bad novels to read whilst trying to write your own; after all your own prose is likely to seem trite in comparison. However, I have actually found the opposite is true: a good novel can and should be an inspiration, a target of excellence. The likelihood of my never getting there is beside the point: there's a lot of fun, and a lot to be learnt, in the journey.