I really miss writing. Like, a lot.
So while I’ve been on this break, I did what people suggested–I decided to use this time to read. I asked for suggestions, I cruised Amazon, and I googled. I wanted to read some mainstream bestsellers, just to prove to myself that I could write written-to-market novels and enjoy doing it.
It backfired big time. Because after all that time and effort, do you know what I ended up with?
Yep. Indie scifi books. Dark and gritty ones that didn’t pull any punches about how bad life can be–how bad people can be–but also showed hope. In the case of one series, the hope came in the form of Christianity; in the rest, good people and love.
Some weren’t as well-written as they could have been, but I sped through them anyway, ignoring the missed commas and weird POV slips and infodumps. Because the stories hooked me like a formulaic book just doesn’t.
And now I want more.
Only more is so hard to find. See, I went through this phase a few years back, which is where Asrian Skies came from. Yes, it mixes genres and has a main character many dislike and gets darker and more violent as the series goes on. Because that’s what I like as a reader. And now I’m back in the same situation–only I’m not starry-eyed anymore. I know there’s a reason books like this are hard to find.
I’m not really sure what the point of this post is. Partly it’s an apology for ignoring everyone’s recommendations and going out and finding my own reads. Partly it’s a thank you to everyone for forcing me into that. But mostly, I suppose, it’s an explanation why Faded Embers and The Political Officer won’t ever exist in published form unless it’s how I want them to exist.
Because my taste in books matters too, right?