I really don't know how to go about blogging about this without sounding like I'm just marketing. Yeah, when I set out to re-read Freakhouse last night, it was to comb through, grab a few quotes, and spiff up the ol' author page a bit. But once I started reading it, I was just a reader.
I know that I've mentioned this before in other posts, but it still surprises me each time. First of all, no one thinks that what I do isn't good enough worse than I do. It's a sad reality, but yes, I will look back on any one of my successes and tear it down, justifying how it really wasn't anything great. I don't do it to be modest; this is clearly a self-esteem issue and I'm happy to be honest about that. So while I remember my writing of Freakhouse, remember the incubation in my head, the brutality of editing, and the thrill of publication, I don't remember it being a great read. I remember being proud of it, and loving it at the time, but as time goes on I can convince myself that past me was slightly delusional.
So it's been a while since I've actually sat down and read Freakhouse. After proofing version after version, your own work can be the last thing you ever want to read. Last night, I wasn't a writer, I was just a reader, and I was absorbed from the first page. It was strange watching everything unfold as separate from me, and I don't mean in a bad way at all, I mean in the way that you fall into any good book that you've never read before. But I have read this book, I should know this book better than anyone. And yet, as I was falling in love with it, I couldn't help but wonder "Who wrote this?!?!" Despite my vivid recollection, despite my name and picture being smeared all over it, I could not see myself having written something that I loved this much.
You have to admit, that's pretty sad, and it says a lot about it in not so pleasant ways. But I'm not seeking sympathy here. I just wanted to share the awe. Freakhouse is one of my most favourite books - as a reader. How could I have forgotten that? This story, these characters that mean so much to me! One of my favourite books of all time, and on top of that, I wrote it - I don't know how, but through some strange inexplicable universe-bending phenomenon, I created something beautiful.
I am hardly my own biggest fan, but maybe it is time that I renew that fan-club membership. Clearly I've been missing out.
I know that I've mentioned this before in other posts, but it still surprises me each time. First of all, no one thinks that what I do isn't good enough worse than I do. It's a sad reality, but yes, I will look back on any one of my successes and tear it down, justifying how it really wasn't anything great. I don't do it to be modest; this is clearly a self-esteem issue and I'm happy to be honest about that. So while I remember my writing of Freakhouse, remember the incubation in my head, the brutality of editing, and the thrill of publication, I don't remember it being a great read. I remember being proud of it, and loving it at the time, but as time goes on I can convince myself that past me was slightly delusional.
So it's been a while since I've actually sat down and read Freakhouse. After proofing version after version, your own work can be the last thing you ever want to read. Last night, I wasn't a writer, I was just a reader, and I was absorbed from the first page. It was strange watching everything unfold as separate from me, and I don't mean in a bad way at all, I mean in the way that you fall into any good book that you've never read before. But I have read this book, I should know this book better than anyone. And yet, as I was falling in love with it, I couldn't help but wonder "Who wrote this?!?!" Despite my vivid recollection, despite my name and picture being smeared all over it, I could not see myself having written something that I loved this much.
You have to admit, that's pretty sad, and it says a lot about it in not so pleasant ways. But I'm not seeking sympathy here. I just wanted to share the awe. Freakhouse is one of my most favourite books - as a reader. How could I have forgotten that? This story, these characters that mean so much to me! One of my favourite books of all time, and on top of that, I wrote it - I don't know how, but through some strange inexplicable universe-bending phenomenon, I created something beautiful.
I am hardly my own biggest fan, but maybe it is time that I renew that fan-club membership. Clearly I've been missing out.
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