My opinion … fair warning

Everyday I receive literary updates from Amazon. Like actors/singers, authors are on the block for a dime a dozen these days. There are so many authors, unknown to me, that they far outweigh the ones I’m familiar with. And, it seems that these writers have been around for a while as they have far too many books in print to be newcomers. This baffles me. When and where did all this 'word' proclivity come from?

Writing and acting seem to be, in my opinion, nothing more than a churning out assembly-line of the glamorization of absolutely no intellect whatsoever. In fact, it appears to be a prerequisite to getting a spot on the conveyor belt. Are you dumb as a rock? Well then, come on down!

Oh alright, there may be one or two unknown-to-me writers that can attend the same soirée as the likes of the greats, but not many. An author, to me, not only writes a flowing hypnotic narrative, he lives it. Virginia Woolf (1882-1941) and the Bloomsbury group of literati; the flamboyant Truman Capote (1924-1984) within the circles of high society; Jack London (1876-1916) commingling life with fiction as he literally drank-in its confines; Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings (1896-1953); Beatrix Potter (1866-1943), whose illustrations spoke to her; Isak Dinesen (1885-1962) ………. Charles Dickens (1812-1870), for crying out loud.

Back in the day, fame was a concept of nonexistent importance. They lived within their own boundaries in a different sphere of life than non-writers. And now they are all gone. Except for their stories both written and lived, I doubt that any writer (word loosely used) today, save for a handful, can boast such a legacy.

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