My life, so far, seems to be in the doldrums, as always seem to happen halfway along the year. My life isn't bad but it isn't spectacular either. It's more of a "meh" edging precariously towards a "bleugh".
* * * * *
One meme that has been making the rounds lately is the I Write Like... quiz, which analyzes your writing and compares you to brilliant writers or Stephenie Meyer. Of course I had to take the test.
First, I put in a sample blog post of mine, specifically The Pee Lady, and hoped for the best.
I got this result.
In case you don't know who Cory Doctorow is, check him out here.
Of course I was emboldened by such a favorable result. I had to do this with everything else I've written. I. HAD. TO.
I first put in my short story Night Out, which was the first time my fiction ever got awarded anything.
While waiting for the results to appear I was quietly thinking "Good golly gosh, I wonder which writer I idolize will I end up being compared to?" Then I got this.
I think I had a stroke or something, because for a few moments I could not move except to open and close my mouth like a goldfish. I consoled myself by thinking that this was when I was just starting out and probably reflected how green I was back then.
So I put in two more stories, Writer's Block and Absolution, hoping for better results.
I GOT THIS. BOTH. TIMES.
I was inconsolable for a few minutes. Was this karmic payback for being a snob at the call center I used to work at? Back then, I would read Vonnegut during breaks, and when somebody with a Dan Brown book in hand approached me asking "You read books?" I would reply with "Yes, but not Dan Brown."
Thoroughly humbled, I entered Nazareno. It's never been my favorite work, and I always thought of it as foolish, childish, and contrived. Which was why I was surprised with the results.
I had to do a Wiki search on William Gibson just to find out who he is! (The "noir prophet" of cyberpunk, it appears.)
But I did feel a little better then. That's an improvement, right? So I put in Sameness.
IMMENSE SIGH OF RELIEF. I haven't really read any Stephen King, but surely his international appeal must mean he's doing something right. Right?
Finally, I put in Vignettes, an unfinished story that I wrote late in 2005 and uploaded to Fictionpress.com just now so I could link you guys to it.
FINALLY. I will never discriminate someone based on their reading choices ever again.
