If were smart and didn’t compare myself to other writers, then I wouldn’t care that Meyer is a true overnight success, I wouldn’t be green with envy, I certainly wouldn’t be thinking that I should write YA romance.
His eyes were smoldering…
She couldn’t look away from his smoldering eyes…
His yellow smoldering eyes were upon her…
Alas, imperfect man that I am.
Time has written an interesting article about the Meyer phenom. Of the many fine tidbits, I wanted to highlight one comparing Meyer with Rowling.
But as artists, they couldn’t be more different. Rowling pieces her books together meticulously, detail by detail. Meyer floods the page like a severed artery. She never uses a sentence when she can use a whole paragraph. Her books are big (500-plus pages) but not dense–they have a pillowy quality distinctly reminiscent of Internet fan fiction. (Which she’ll readily grant: “I don’t think I’m a writer; I think I’m a storyteller,” Meyer says. “The words aren’t always perfect.”)
I’m not a writer, she says.
I’m a storyteller.
There are volumes in that one paragraph. Meyer knows exactly why the vast majority of us fiction readers read. And it ain’t for style.
Here’s an even more interesting video clip of Meyer talking about how she came up with her novel. Notice how this woman follows the zing. Notice how she makes time (novel completed in three months). And look at her success. A lesson to all of us wanting to tell great stories.
…His red eyes were smoldering, and her brown eyes were smoldering, and together they were all smoldering…
