I am losing time. Seriously, one minute I’m writing the blog for mid-August, when I go to write the next blog—I think—a week later, I find three weeks have passed.
Life in lockdown is a blur of work, exercise (still doing Ringfit), and sleep, even on the weekends. The days are running together, with little to no writing done. Many days I don’t even go outside.
I don’t check my personal mail often. It’s mostly spam at present, and I’m sitting at the same computer all day every day. When I’m done I just want to get away there. Hence, if you send us an email, it may take longer than normal to answer. It’s not intentional.
I have made some time for reading—usually at night when I drop into bed, exhausted, and can’t sleep. Which of course means I’m exhausted the next day, too, but that’s another matter. And hey, if someone has come up with a solution for laying down in bed and reading with glasses on, I want to know about it. Falling asleep reading is a luxury I can no longer afford if I want to keep my glasses in good shape.
Amazon had a three-month no-pay option on Kindle Unlimited, so I took that up. I have found some good books there, some bad books, and many in between.
Somewhere along the line I hit a patch of, “Hey girl, you’ve inherited property and powers from a relation you’ve never heard of before, here’s the key,” urban cosies. I like wish fulfilment books as much as anyone, along with inherited powers, but please, please, make the protagonist work for those powers. It’s not super-believable when your former non-powered, no-idea I had powers heroine is suddenly able to overcome bad guys who’ve been evil for hundreds of years.
(It reminds me a lot of Ringfit, actually. The computer exercise game I’m playing. You’re up against a super-buff supposedly-bad dragon who exercises all day every day, and you still manage to beat him. I think not. One hit from him and you’d be dead, even if he knocked you accidentally. Truly. There is no way a newbie like me could beat him in reality. But I digress.)
Not only that, in age of scammers and identity theft, authors please don’t write stories where the protagonist takes someone’s word without verification. Not without setting up a plausible background for it, anyway.
Five of the stories I read and discarded (nowadays I only read as far as I want to) started with the protagonist losing everything—job, home, boyfriend and/or family. (Very convenient if you’re about to up sticks and cross the world.) The doorbell rings. The visitor turns out to be a lawyer, with the protagonist’s unknown [insert relative here]’s will, and the keys to the relative’s house.
Let me tell you dear author, I would think that person at the door is a scammer. I would shut the door in his face (it’s always a him) so fast he won’t finish talking. If you come to my home and tell me you are a lawyer, I won’t believe you. A legitimate lawyer would contact me by letter or phone first, set up an appointment, and I would go into his office to talk to him. Only then, maybe, would I start to believe.
And if I was the lawyer, I certainly wouldn’t hand over the keys to the house and the bank deeds to a total stranger two minutes after knocking on the door, without verifying who they are.
I probably come across as hypocritical here, because I’ve said before, over and over, that I don’t expect my historical fantasies to be abide by ‘how we thought it was back then’, but I find it harder to suspend belief when it’s current time and my own country (two of these books were set in Australia.)
I’d like my protagonists to have a modicum of common sense.