Cut From the Same Cloth

I’ve mentioned my affinity for medical articles, have I not? I troll the internet for interesting studies, new findings, and the occasional oddity. I don’t know why. I just do. One of those weird little quirks of mine.

Here’s another little indulgence into that pasttime. So people with blue eyes come from a common ancestor? I love that! It reminds me of the paranormal genre’s various plays on the origin of vampires, werewolves, and what-have-you; how entire underworld societys spawned from a single person or a single twist in fate. The great myths, legends, and stories come to life in science and a biological blip on the genetic screen!

Or maybe I loved the article because it shows how we’re all essentially cut from the same cloth. We’re variations on the same theme, if you will, in a way the same but still oh so gloriously different!

I wonder: do other writers feel this way about people in general? After all, our characters have to relate to a wide range of people, and yet they still have to be individuals, identifiable and unique from the pantheon of all other characters past, present, and future. Our characters have to be the same as everyone else and yet different. It’s a challenge I relish.

Or maybe I just have a thing for baby blues…

Kindred Spirits

I love discovering a kindred spirit. It’s funny how readers always seem to find each other. You start off with inane small talk and somehow the conversation always evolves toward books and boom!

“You like to read?” is said with veiled but hopeful enthusiasm. It’s so easy to go off on a tangent, to dive headfirst into the gushing of stories, authors, and books. I don’t know about other people, but I’ve been rewarded in the past for my passionate monologues with looks ranging from indulgently amused to straightout horrified. Oh lord, you know these people are thinking, I wish I hadn’t asked! Now she’s never going to shut up…

It’s a dance. One people play with their various passions and any possible kindred spirit. You lay too much out too quickly, and you run the risk of being labeled a bit on the nutty side. Most of the time I don’t particularly care, but in this instance my fellow reader was a coworker, and it’s always easier not to rock the boat when it’s the only one keeping you financially afloat.

“I love to read,” are the words you hope to hear. “What books do you like?”

Ah, and here at last is the true test. Many people like to read. Fewer love to read. And fewer still love to read what you read. No one wants to throw their favorite book onto the proverbial tracks and listen to it get railed over. The other person is, after all, entitled to her or his opinion, but no one wants to see someone’s lip curl while sneering, “You like that?” Because then, of course, comes retaliation.

“Yes, of course. But then again, I like a book with an actual plot.”

So you begin slowly, watching and waiting to see if the possible kindred spirit will at the very least allow you your opinion without offering judgment or ridicule. Because what you read, after all, is just as good as anything else out there. Better, of course, in your own opinion, but not something to be sniffed at and shoved aside as inadequate. These books are good, dammit!

And glorious is the moment when the other person brightens. “I have that whole series!”

The world is better for a kindred spirit. You can never have too many.