And, okay, so I’ve added an adjective in front of authors here and I didn’t for my piece about bloggers. But as I’m a blogger, too, I don’t want to toot any horns or seem impartial in any way about the community to which I belong. As I’m not an author I feel that I can add such effusive words of praise like “amazing” or “awesome” or “wonderful.”
Besides, I am going to be focusing on amazing authors for this article so I feel fully justified.
As anyone who’s read one of my reviews before or visited my site knows, I am quite generous with my praise. But, at least to me, none of it is undeserved. I will not say something is magical if I don’t honestly believe it is. I will not endorse a work as beautiful if it’s not. And I will not say an author is a creative genius if I don’t feel that way.
But anyone who can put their imagination into words that then form a story to me is already amazing in a way. Stories don’t write themselves. They may start with an idea. Many people have ideas all the time. But turning an idea into a book isn’t a given. Transforming that idea into two hundred plus pages requires a tremendous amount of creativity and more work than one might imagine.
There are probably more people who think they can be a writer than those who think they could be a comedian. But just because you have the ability to string a few sentences together doesn’t make you a writer. I went to school. Lots of school. I’ve written things. I write things. Am I a writer? No. I don’t believe so. At least not the kind of writer who can captivate an audience and leave them breathless or yearning or smiling from ear-to-ear simply from the way I’ve combined words on a page.
A writer is someone who can sit down in front of a blank screen or page and fill that page with letters that form words that form sentences that turn into paragraphs that fill pages until they become a story that can be read and enjoyed. And as any writer will know, those empty white pages are not always so easy to fill. They can become a void that sucks them in to their emptiness. But a writer is someone who can wrestle their way back, defeat that void with their mind, their voice, their characters, their very heart and soul.
And for this very reason writers are my rock stars. And yes, I’ve said it before, and you can quote me on that. I’ve walked past Paul McCartney and felt less nervous than approaching Lisa McMann, Kami Garcia and Katie Alender for an autograph at Barnes & Noble. I think if I ever met Stephen King I’d require hospitalization. But that will never happen as I don’t make it to Maine all too often. (Try never.)
I have always loved authors as I have always loved reading. I love their creative minds. I love the way they can see things in such a different light from “regular” people. How they can take the most minute concept and run with it and sculpt it until it forms the most fantastic story.
Just take a writer with you somewhere and observe how they view the world and the people within. You can almost see their mind churning and creating. A day at the beach, a ride on the subway, a turn of the weather. Each of these instances can serve as the inspiration for something new and wonderful. And bring a writer with you as a guest to a party and it will be the best party ever – writers really are the life of any party. (At least writers of fiction. As I haven’t kept company with non-fiction writers I can’t speculate.)
But when I say that writers are amazing, I mean it. And when I say that I love an author, I mean that too – and I’m not just saying it in the “Oh em gee I love them” kind of way.
Just because I may say it often shouldn’t lessen its value. It’s not like saying “I love you” so many times it loses its meaning. Because each author is different and what I love about each book is different. But that doesn’t mean I don’t adore each one.
When I finish a book and start another one I fall in love all over again with the new characters, the new story and the magic that went into their creation. Because a story is magical. It can completely remove you from wherever you are and transport you into whatever world the author thought to design. It can leave you heartbroken over these fictional events and characters. It can leave you feeling happy, peaceful or depressed. And this is all because of the author.
I cannot imagine a world without amazing authors. It would be dry and dusty and boring. Where but on the written page can we see words such as “lugubrious” or “febrile” or “moribund”? Without these writers of books we’d be a pretty bland species.
So I would just like to thank each and every one of those amazing authors who has kept me company with their stories all my life. It is their amazing stories that were the last things I heard when falling asleep every night as a young child. Their stories were my only companions when I was sick, they whittled away the hours on long bus rides, and they allowed me to visit lands I would otherwise never have been able to see. And I can only imagine that they will keep me company when I reach the other end of the spectrum of my life just as they had at the beginning.
I hate to vote on favorite author polls, because how can I possibly choose only one. And I hate the fact that I’ve even named any favorites on Goodreads because those listed aren’t my only favorites, just some.
But, I would like to point out a few of the authors that I find amazing and why. And so that my list won’t be endless I’ll only mention a select few authors of whom I’ve read two or more books, because if I even considered listing any of the amazing authors who have written just one book I’d be here all night.
You can choose to read on or choose to ignore, but perhaps you might discover a new and amazing author to add to your amazing authors list. (And don’t you love just how many times I’ve used “amazing”?)
I love the amazing Jennifer Laurens because with each and every story she writes I suffer. I am tied up in knots until the very end and I feel each characters’ anguish as if it were my own.
I love the amazing S.L. Naeole because one of her books held such a memorable moment of ultimate sacrifice for love that long after reading it that moment has still continued to haunt me.
I love the amazing Lauren Oliver because both of her books have left me crushed, devastated, heartbroken, dazed and confused for days after reading.
I love the amazing Lisa McMann because her stories make me feel unsettled and disturbed and ever so distanced from her characters as if I’m a voyeur in their lives.
I love the amazing Holly Black because her stories are gritty and edgy and stripped bare of softness but still magical and beautiful and dark and I can’t imagine life not having known Roiben or Cassel.
I love the amazing Amanda Hocking because her stories always make me choose a favorite and then never end the way I want them to and because of that I love them even more.
I love the amazing Gayle Forman because I’ve never cried as much while reading any books as I have hers.
I love the amazing Stephen King because of his mind, because he’s taken me on more adventures than anyone else and because I’ve never loved a character more than Roland Deschain.
I love the amazing Janet Fitch who has pulled me down to the lowest of lows and to the darkest of places with her books.
I love the amazing Colleen McCullough because she has made me love a simpleton and a cardinal and I’ve never forgotten either character in the many years since I’d last met them.
I love the amazing Richelle Mead because she ripped my heart out midway through her series, left me broken, but still attempted to put Humpty Dumpty back together.
And as I am now delayed in posting this I must stop. Forgive me all you talented, tremendous, delightful, creative, gifted and oh so special authors who I have neglected to mention. Just know that for each book I’ve read and loved you will always be a part of my history, for whatever that is worth. I am forever a fan.