When you’re reading for escape…
…a deep breath, or when the work commute is unbearably stuffed full of students, tourists, suits and even the odd ex-con who casually announces beside you, “…yeah, I’ve been out for a year and a half.”
When you’re reading, do you seek acres of description? Do you crave detailed details, on every little thing? The way someone sits on a toilet with a bowl so deep, their pee splashes loudly? (this is a real line I just read in a hysterically successful new novel.)
These tiniest of tiny details are often banal and yet the work still becomes a page-turning hit in spite of this – or because of it.
Maybe we just adore sitting on the protagonist’s shoulder – seeing what they’re seeing, loving who they’re loving, er, peeing how they’re peeing?
I guess some of us really wanna be held by the author’s imagination in every way. To be twirled around by their turns of phrase. They’ve gotta be romanced before they can commit to the story.
Well, lately I’ve wanted to be wooed by the success stories I catch in glowing book reviews and interviews with these celebrated scribes.
Wow… their latest bestseller has conquered online fandom and traditional literary circles, it’s critically acclaimed, beloved, an undiluted, non-stop, ever-lovin’ clear word-of-mouth success – oh my!
The stab of envy makes it mark on me. So, why do this? Why? When the pathway out of this self-flagellating kaka is so simple.
Romance myself instead. And. Write.
© Phyllis Foundis 2026