I cannot stop reading Gregg Hurwitz.
1) How much do I love libraries... Case in point, my new obsession with Gregg Hurwitz's thrillers. They hit all my buttons -- characters I come to care about; writing that's so evocative in description it's almost poetic, but still manages to stay seamless within the overall straightforward, gritty tone. Intensity with a capital I and a truckload of exclamation points, to the point that I have to take breaks from reading, it's almost too much sometimes. Heroes (and in at least one case, a heroine) who dig incredibly deep to make it through impossible odds.
Okay, the violence level *is* horrific and the villains are horrific and I am not exaggerating about that. But somehow it works as a compelling whole, and touches very human chords intelligently and expertly. The novel I'm currently reading stars a therapist who runs a group session for parolees, and I wasn't expecting to be blown away by the sessions themselves but Hurwitz makes every other therapist I've come across as a character in fiction sound like they were just dialing it in, or maybe hadn't graduated from their training wheels yet. Really, really, really good stuff. (And Hurwitz has written quite a few books - I've maybe read seven so far -and is still writing, and still adding to the addictive Orphan X series, and how can it be right to be so happy about something that's rooted in extreme, graphically described violence? But I am, I am...)
/fangirling. :-)
2) I have five thousand four hundred and fifty-eight ideas for the current Sentinel Thursday prompt, and yet getting even one of them to cooperate is a thing almost of hopelessness and despair.
Okay, no, that's an exaggeration - um, *both* parts of the previous sentence - but the Inner Writer is being verrry cagey. And stubborn.
And I know why. Or why a little bit, maybe:
and that would be #3) - I now have over a hundred fics (well, ficlets, most of them) up on AO3 (with a fair amount of Secret Santa stuff left to upload). Being confronted with all those fics - which I've had to mostly reread so I could do ratings and tags and summaries, and sometimes italics by hand, is...daunting. Like, what can I possibly have left to say anymore? I've zoomed around from tentacle polyamory and elf PTSD to partner betrayal and death fic, with a whole lot of on-and-off-road stops in between, and where did that stuff all *come* from? It's almost worrisome.
I'm not throwing in the towel, though. :-) Just baffled at, well, life as T. Who never intended to write anything in the first place.
And yet has written mpreg...
:-)
Posted on DW and LJ. Read DW comments (comments:
). Leave a comment on the DW post.
Okay, the violence level *is* horrific and the villains are horrific and I am not exaggerating about that. But somehow it works as a compelling whole, and touches very human chords intelligently and expertly. The novel I'm currently reading stars a therapist who runs a group session for parolees, and I wasn't expecting to be blown away by the sessions themselves but Hurwitz makes every other therapist I've come across as a character in fiction sound like they were just dialing it in, or maybe hadn't graduated from their training wheels yet. Really, really, really good stuff. (And Hurwitz has written quite a few books - I've maybe read seven so far -and is still writing, and still adding to the addictive Orphan X series, and how can it be right to be so happy about something that's rooted in extreme, graphically described violence? But I am, I am...)
/fangirling. :-)
2) I have five thousand four hundred and fifty-eight ideas for the current Sentinel Thursday prompt, and yet getting even one of them to cooperate is a thing almost of hopelessness and despair.
Okay, no, that's an exaggeration - um, *both* parts of the previous sentence - but the Inner Writer is being verrry cagey. And stubborn.
And I know why. Or why a little bit, maybe:
and that would be #3) - I now have over a hundred fics (well, ficlets, most of them) up on AO3 (with a fair amount of Secret Santa stuff left to upload). Being confronted with all those fics - which I've had to mostly reread so I could do ratings and tags and summaries, and sometimes italics by hand, is...daunting. Like, what can I possibly have left to say anymore? I've zoomed around from tentacle polyamory and elf PTSD to partner betrayal and death fic, with a whole lot of on-and-off-road stops in between, and where did that stuff all *come* from? It's almost worrisome.
I'm not throwing in the towel, though. :-) Just baffled at, well, life as T. Who never intended to write anything in the first place.
And yet has written mpreg...
:-)
Posted on DW and LJ. Read DW comments (comments:
). Leave a comment on the DW post.