So, I dug up some old zip disks and 3.5" diskettes (amazing, I know—what was that technology? My current desktop doesn't even have a firewire port) to see if I could find a more original manuscript for the novel that Devine Destinies published. I'm 12 pages into the copy from 2009 and equally as far into the preview on Amazon. (No, I will not pay $5.99 to read this.) It's insane how much lamer this book has become.To recap, Dear Author figured out how to get writing and editing jobs in marketing departments at real companies in the suburbs of Chicago. She decided none of these jobs really recognized how special she is. She decided to stay home and be a real writer. When that didn't work, she went back to working in an office. Then she quit again. Then she became completely isolated and completely unemployable—even the agents and publishers who agreed to work with her would break all ties to her work. Somehow, a publisher took her book all the way to Amazon in October. This blog started after I read the book she published through Lulu, which is The Worst Novel Ever. During a December road trip, a question about that book popped into my head (Why did that main character hate the mom?) and reminded me this blog existed.
The Second Worst Novel Ever was supposed to be published by Sunbury Press and then Wandering Sage and now really is available on Amazon through Devine Destinies. It's been three years since my last post. Maybe somebody actually got her to rewrite the story? Um, they changed the husband's name from Josh to Jake and the corporate job from Vanderlynch to Henderson. The main character's trying to sell a screenplay about a wrestler instead of a screenplay about the ghost of Elvis. Someone inserted a bunch of crap every few words. It's the same only worse.
-2009 version-
I nodded. Therese leaned against a nearby desk. Her job at this point was to record my reaction, then go back to her own desk and make all kinds of nasty notes about me. Even if I say nothing.
-2015 version-
I nodded. Therese leaned against a nearby desk, like a pelican posted on a pier waiting for someone to toss her a fresh fish. Her job at this point would be to record my reaction, then go back to her own desk and document wicked and worthless judgments about me. Even if I say nothing.
All the new terminology does is tell us that a) the main character, a writer, is a terrible writer and b) the main character hates herself. Every adjective added is negative and "feeble" and "pathetic." Who says they're going to a salon to get their "dismal blonde highlights" retouched? It's not a self-deprecating humor because first she would have to be aware of herself. Her diary more obnoxious. I want to root for the main character even less than I did before.
If Dear Author took out her thesaurus and added all these jarring phrases to the manuscript before Sunbury got their hands on it and called it "jarring," I don't know why other than she read it somewhere, like a rejection letter.
You can read the first chapter on Amazon by clicking the "Look Inside!" link:
http://www.amazon.com/Perfect-Chaos-Twelve-Succeeding-Failure-ebook/dp/B014SA90WQ/ref=sr_1_14?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1451757287&sr=1-14&keywords=perfect+chaos
Adding adjectives for the sake of adjectives does not help the reader. Dismal blond highlights, pathetic problems, tainted talented, battered bike and so on tell me nothing new about the story. They just add a lot more misery. How much snow is on the ground? This character lost a mitten that will turn up again, but the reader has no idea that the mitten is really right there under the snow. That's a detail, a description that would add to the story. More showing, less complaining.
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