So, I put out a book of poetry last year, and all my relatives oohed and aahed in embarrassing ways, claiming that they just lurved it.
I was talking to my mom and she asked when the next book was coming out. I said I didn’t know since my writing has been fairly slow lately.
“Oh,” she said. “Well, everyone is really looking forward to it, if it’s more cheerful.”
Gosh, Mom, I’ll get right on that!
I’m not surprised. It’s not that I’m an author, it’s just that I’ve read that other authors–most of them fictional–have discovered much the same thing.
And I’ve sung in choirs and small groups, and played handbells, and sometimes had that experience of people being flattering far beyond what seems reasonable to me.
But yeah, I don’t blame you for being more irritated than flattered by the news that all your relatives are eagerly looking forward to your next book of poetry–so long as it’s more cheerful.
You know, cheerful is not a word I usually associate with poetry. I’ve read my share of humorous poetry, but otherwise poetry is much more often kind of gloomy, and depressing. Not that I’m much of a reader of poetry.
While you’re at it, can you do a book that doesn’t involve poetry whatsoever? That would be fabulous, thanks.
I’m sure she was thinking it.
And, well, I’m not blaming anyone for not liking poetry. 