Avocations

Writing

Chapter 1
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I rake my hands through my hair and sigh. I feel like ripping the paper from my typewriter, crumpling it into a ball and tossing it in the waste can only I don’t have a typewriter.  I feel like the computer has robbed me of this simple act of expressing frustration. I write book reviews. Not for a living. I am a computer security consultant by trade. No I fell into this simply by joining an internet book club. A friend convinced me to join. We met while I did some consulting work for the city. She was the project manager and a total knock out. They had a forum where people debated endlessly over, what seemed to me, to be the esoteric concepts of what makes a book good or bad.

I’ll admit my interest initially was more an effort to impress her than any real interest in books. It was something we could talk about and a way we could get to know each other. That was all the reason I needed to join but as it turns out, by a quirk in my personality where I can’t stand to lose an argument, I found myself sitting at my computer until the wee hours of the morning writing review after review. She must have thought my writing was okay because one day she, her name is Anne, called me and asked if I would be interested in writing book reviews for a small local paper. It doesn't pay much but that isn't the point. Understand; Anne is attractive, smart, successful, and about ten years younger than I. In other words she’s a little out of my league but that just means I have to work a little harder at it. I couldn’t say no. 

I sigh and enjoy the feel of a breeze coming in through the window as I think of her. It’s a beautiful summer day and I can see the bright blues and greens of nature through drapes swaying slowly back and forth. It’s funny how criticizing the work of others can create the illusion it’s easy. I wrote a review of a book that was a favorite of Toms, my landlord. Sometimes Tom takes the term land-"lord" too literally but he’s a unique guy. He's a retired cop, usually good for a few stories, and we've become friends.

I didn’t care for the book. The plot was constructed around several characters trying to out scheme each other but there was no one character I could relate to or feel sympathetic towards. No one I wanted to see win. So my criticism was a little harsh, big deal. Actually I wish I had lied through my teeth. Tom caught me in the back yard cooking a sausage on the grill. He called out “Ferndale, you dimwit. I read that review of yours. Are you some kind of moron?” I didn't pay too much attention to the name calling. Thats fairly normal for him but apparently he was really annoyed this time. He walked right up to the fence and proceeded to point out how dumb I must be and asked to read some of the books I’d written. I was in a pretty good mood but now my ire was up and I was in no mood for backing down. So here I am, frustrated already, attempting to write my first book. I haven’t even finished the first page.