You and I are not so different. You are a writer, I am
I enjoy your books. They are quick and entertaining reads. I enjoy your characters and that you often use North Carolina as your setting. My issue with your writing is your need to make me feel as if my heart has been ripped out and smashed repeatedly with a hammer. You write lovely and moving stories. You have nailed the ability to describe the greatest love the world has ever seen. And then it all goes to crap. Someone gets sick. Or dies. Or gets lost at sea. What is your problem, man? Can't they just live happily ever after? Does someone have to get leg cancer or die in childbirth? It is so painful. I don't like sadness. I am a mother. I cry over spilled milk. Literally. I don't need to read a book that is going to make me writhe on the floor sobbing. I can do that on my own, thanks.
Right now I am reading your book The Lucky One. I am only 46% through (thanks Kindle) and I am very nervous. With each click of the turning page, I grow more skittish. I don't want to invest emotionally because I know at any second you will jerk the romantic rug out from under me. It is even worse because in this one there is a dog. Please note for future writing projects, I hate animals in stories. Not only am I worried about the peeps, I am worried about the dog. If someone has to go, please let it be the grandma. She is nonessential to the greatest love of life equation. BTW, I would not have even read this one if I hadn't seen the preview for the movie. Kudos on the casting. Baby Efron is hawt. Please don't kill him off in a flash flood.
I admit I have not read all your books. There may be some that won't put me on suicide watch. However, there is not enough medication in the world to get me through your entire library, so I may never know. Please heed my advice. (I have been told I give really good advice so if you need help with anything else, I can shoot you my cell number). No more killing off the strapping lads and beautiful heroines. Enough. I need happy love. Love that frolics in southern fields of flowers. Love that lies in row boats in the rain. Not love that is cut short by a mudslide. A mudslide. That is not romantic, Mr Sparks. I leave you with this last little nugget: more kissing, less dying. If you are wavering between making out or a hang gliding accident, please go with making out.
Keep it Real,
|They both die.|
|He is hot.|
(Before y'all say, "hey these are all from movies...she didn't really read the books. She just watched the movies. LIAR." I did read them, I promise. I just liked these pictures to illustrate my point. Pretty people help make a point according to my marketing people. Geeze, it not like this is a book report. Get off my back.)
UPDATE: I have not gotten a response from Mr. Sparks. I find this odd, because surely he has a Google Alert set up to sound the alarm anytime his name pops up in the Interwebbings. He is probably feverishly preparing a contract so he can ask me to collaborate on his next book. No worries, Nicky, I will let you put your name first on the cover.
UPDATE 2.0: I finished The Lucky One. It was not terribly tragic. I only panicked slightly when the dog jumped in the water. What it is causing me to do is revisit the possiblility that I am psychic. There was a flash flood and someone did die. As stated above. CREEPY. SO now in addition to Nico Sparks calling, I am awaiting a call from Dionne Warwick to participate with her psyhcic friends. Unless she is dead. (I have really no idea) If the latter is true I won't be speaking to her because that is out of my range of abilites. I only see the future.
UPDATE #3: Dionne is still alive. Sadly, her psychic friends have gone bankrupt. Apparently someone is trying to kick start the network again, so I will surely be getting a call about that very soon. Watch for further updates.