The Author Who Doesn’t Like To Read … her own stuff. Out loud.
It’s been a very tough bunch of months. Or a few bunches of months.
And I don’t really want to talk about it.
Instead, let’s read a story. Or, I will. In this case, probably a true tale about a boy who ended up with his head smashed in on a rocky river bank about 200 feet below where he should’ve been. At least I think that’s what I’m going to read. I don’t actually like reading out loud, which makes it hard to choose.
You can come hear me, an introverted writer who never reads out loud, read out loud for the first time in YEARS.
I never read at my author appearances because I don’t particularly enjoy listening to authors read their work unless it’s an audiobook. I usually tell stories or talk about writing and books, or ask folks if they have questions. We have a chat, usually.
Also, it seems that all my “short” fiction takes about 5 minutes longer to read than I have. Which is why I am now digging through my creative non-fiction.
Last resort will be novel excerpt, which is my least favourite thing to read out loud.
WHY? Because I cannot stand not knowing the parts before and after it, and so I don’t like doing that to other people.