Skip to main content

Musical Reading, Writing, and Reviewing Peeves

I love positive, but for this post, I'm musing on some peeves I have with reading, writing, and reviewing. I pulled this list together from a stack of erroneous scrambled notes, and amazingly, as you'll soon find out why, plucked out my Top Ten.

So let the muse begin, starting with my top peeve. Writing! It peeves me to no end to think I think far faster than I write. And so what if everyone else in the world is like this too. That only makes things worse because I'm like this, which to combat, I'm a serious note-taker...spiraling right into my next peeve.

My penmanship used to be fairly pretty. Hoping to master calligraphy at some point. But then typewriters, processors, and now PCs (what a word) came out and took the swankiness out of my penmanship. Now I can't make heads or tails out of my handwritten notes...

...Thousands of notes, and if I get to use 1% of the notes I'm counting too high.

Another writing peeve, as I sit here peeving away, and that is when I spot and have to fix my auditory processing snaf-foo(s). Kid no one not, but I have written an entire (first draft) novel to a flawless chagrin, backwards! And that's not all. You know each one of them things called sentences. I wrote them backwards too! Perhaps this should be my number one peeve. The only reason it isn't, is because I self-diagnosed and fixed the issue. Now I start each chapter with, 'the end'.

But the writing peeve that has eaten at me more than anything, and that was escorting THREE near complete novels to the recycle bin...back to back. A whole years' worth of work—gone. Vanished without a trace. And more maddening than this misdirected calamity was me refusing to move on to the next novel. A Big Arrghh!

Reviewing might be next on my list of bookish peeves, the number one in this category being books I've read and started to review, but changed my mind. I appreciate honesty, but honestly, if it requires too much thought to write a constructive honest review, I leave it alone.

And that's the other thing about reviewing. I spend a good amount of time writing each review, trying to avoid spoilers while expressing more than... "I simply loved the book."

And reading peeves? Here's one. Or how about here's one, two, three, four, and counting up to your favorite number. Don't want to admit this, but I am not so fond of books with more descriptions of localities, settings, car rim tire sizes, credentials, incidentals, and everything else exterior and interior to Pluto's ozone. Please, one solid story centered amid one focused premise, or just point me to the nearest encyclopedia. I'll underline all the scores myself.

Now my top reading peeve has to do with the mood thing. So many times I want to read a certain book but can't, all due to not being in the right mood. For instance, after reading the Silence of Grace and Extraordinary, Ordinary People, I can't read this Shangri book. So badly I wanted to read this one, but unfortunately the two I read before it I have to credit for taking me out of the mood to read anything on World Wars I or II.

But the worstest of the worst reading peeves, and that's the tough time I have finding a book that is my just cup of tea. Nothing guarantees finding it either; not reading a synopsis, reviews, blurbs; whether it's traditional or self-pubbed. Not even going by best-seller lists, or testing the first few pages. Nothing but finding the right mood and keeping my fingers crossed until I can safely conclude... 'aah, now this is a finger-licking good, solid delicious gorgeously fantastic book!'


  1. I definitely agree with you about all that extra descriptions. I'm like yada, yada, yada.

  2. Hey Sid, and LOL...yeah I don't know how some people do it... spiraling in prose with no destination. You have to see all the hair laying around my chair trying to read prose like this!;-)


Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

A Rumor About One Race

It’s a funny thing, how some things you hear stay with you in that sixth sense sort of way, as if the information will serve some future purpose.

True Story. I was in elementary school when a teacher got to talking about three true races—Caucasian, Mongoloid, and Negroid, and how one day there would be One Race. For a placeholder I attended Philadelphia (PA) Public Schools, K-straight thru-12 (99.98% black student population) where there was always ‘that’ teacher who would put aside a textbook to impart ‘move to the edge of your seat’ information... something I later figured out would take “dynamic positioning” to find its originating source. I even think the teacher may have said we wouldn’t find this information written anywhere.

At any rate, I’m all kinds of fuzzy about how the original three races came to be, but recall 3rd grade hands going up in the air asking why this and how that and what about this, and then somebody saying, “unt un... my mother said...”

Naturally I was intr…

When Opinions Cross the Line

Two literary topographies brought this historical commentary together; a social media Headline asserting some books are irrelevant, and Stacey Dash’s memoir, ‘There Goes My Social Life’. (My other thoughts here).

I didn't pause long enough to so much as note the social media headline, but did pause after catching wind of Stacey Dash's outspoken stance on supporting American businessman and Republican politician, Mitt Romney. Stacey is an American Actress notable for her role in the film CluelessSIGH—I’ve never seen Clueless, but have seen this actress in other films... which was what inspired me to want to read her memoir. Being a Big Picture thinker, I couldn't make heads or tails out of the hoopla behind her outspoken political views.

My great-great grandfather, born in America in the mid 1800’s, was a Republican. Per my father, historically the American working class primarily voted Republican, though he, and then me, marveled about my great-great grandfather's r…

What Makes a Book Feel Good? ...A Top 10 List

When you it’s said... live and learn, you learn LOVE comes in stages. So far, I’ve come across three stages of love. Puppy Love. Hormonal Love. And the ultimate love. Unconditional Love.

Lo and behold albeit, after finally getting around to reading Roy Blount’s memoir, “Be Sweet” (a memoirist who has at least twenty some years on me), I got to reading him summarizing unconditional love as ‘just an expression’ ..."like any other two words." Now, because his memoir is largely satirical, and given the title, on top of knowing better to think I know more than my elders (haha), it was hard to tell whether to take the definition seriously or facetiously. Whichever the case, as of today I define unconditional love without conditions. Unlike puppy love, built largely on a giddy childish infatuation superficially marveling over things or people, or that hormonal love responding to the cyclones and ebbs moving our hormones in this invisible like cylinder, there are no ifs, ands…