I was reading, leaning back in my chair with one leg up on my desk. A fellow teacher knocked on my door. I guess he walked by and saw me sitting there a minute after quitting time.
“That must be some book,” he said. “It’s time to go and you don’t even care.”
“It’s a good part,” I said.
“What are you reading?”
“Gideon the Ninth.”
“I don’t know that one.”
I read him the blurb on the cover, “Lesbian necromancers explore a haunted gothic palace in space.”
“I can’t put it down,” I told him.
He didn’t react right away. He was probably digesting this information and remembering that I teach the children creative writing.
“Take your time,” he said, and closed the door.
But really, this is a pretty great book. It looks like this:
The plot is compelling, the dialogue is funny, and the friendship that forms between the two main characters is engaging. It’s not a romance by any means. Gideon is lesbian, but doesn’t fall in love with anyone in the book. She’s a kickass cavalier with face paint and sunglasses.
Since I finished my Master’s last December I’ve determined to only read books that speak to me, no matter what they are – critically acclaimed or not. I stopped just reading things that would have been accepted in a creative writing workshop. No that I’m NOT still reading those things. I am. I’m just also throwing in a lesbian necromancer or two. Because it makes me happy.
Likewise, I’m not just writing stories that I would throw to the wild dogs of a writing workshop. I’m writing any story that makes me happy. Lately, romantic comedies have made me giddy. Sure, it could be because six months ago I married a woman I love, but even before that I noticed that the bulk of my stories had one thing in common.
Every story I write is a love story. Even if it’s not romantic love. When I follow around my characters and scribble their dialogue, they’re usually working out some problem or avoiding another. They miss each other, they argue, they banter, they confess. I like it when they banter. Sassy little guys.
Gideon the Ninth has good, sassy banter. It seems like Tamsyn Muir had fun writing this. You can kind of tell when a writer struggled, when they thought to themselves, “I don’t even want to read this.”
I find myself reading books that were conceived in love, not forced. Ray Bradbury said, “Writing is not a serious business. It a joy and a celebration. You should be having fun at it.”
Same goes for reading. I’m putting my feet back on the desk and my nose in the book.