“Have you read Outlander yet? You’ll love it!”
“I just started reading Outlander. It’s so good!”
“My entire life has CHANGED since reading Outlander!”
OK, so that last one might have been made up, but basically for the past few years it’s felt like EVERYONE has been telling me to read Diana Gabaldon’s Outlander series. I’m not kidding: I hear this (thankfully) more than that I should read Twilight or Fifty Shades of Gray. And most of the people who have suggested it to me are people for whom I have the utmost literary respect. These are lifelong bookworms, and fellow authors.
Then earlier this year I read a quote by Diana Gabaldon herself (and I’m not actually quoting here, because I can no longer find the quote) talking about how many “rules” of writing she had broken: she mixes up genres unapologetically; she writes exceedingly LONG books; she doesn’t have the entire series planned out right from the start.
This is an author after my own heart.
Which makes it all the more painful that I have to give up. At least for now.
I started watching the Outlander TV series a few months back, and quickly got addicted. I mean, sexy Scottish Jamie in a kilt… accents… history-ish… What’s not to love? So I decided that it was time to read the books. I went and picked up the first book from the library. I’ve now had it for about eight weeks, and I’ve read less than 400 of the 850 pages. I have one more week until I can’t renew it anymore.
I feel awful about it. I want to like it. I want to finish it, swoon over it, and dive wholeheartedly into the next book. But I can’t.
It’s too wordy. I love the story, but there’s just too much of it. And I can’t do it.
I feel so guilty. Please, someone tell me that I’m not a terrible bookworm! Have you ever had a book that you so wanted to love, but just couldn’t? (And please don’t say Idol Hands or What Lies Behind… I’m fragile enough at the moment! LOL)