I love to read… Yes, I know I’ve said that before, but it’s true. I love the feel of words of words in print just as much as I do how those words were used to craft a message or a story.

Yes, some people are writers and some are authors, and no doubt it’s true that most people cannot tell the difference, but I’ll leave that to the professionals

… and now for something completely different?

It’s always sad when a publishing house folds or is absorbed by a larger conglomerate and it’s authors are relegated to the archives… often because what they write does not fit within the new editor-in-chief’s mindset of what is good and what isn’t, what is relevant and what is not… and given some of the books I’ve seen in print recently, I don’t believe many of them know the difference.

Why must we force children to accept adult responsibilities, adult behaviour and adult depression? It seems adults insist that “if I feel bad, so must everyone else.”

I’m tired of angst books for teens. So many of them, written by adults in the publishing industry, are simply therapy for the author who is either trying to get over a broken heart… twenty or thirty years after the fact, or is dealing with the pain and loss of a loved one… and want’s everyone else to feel their agony.

… and get paid for it while they’re at it.

Whatever happened to humour? Or are afraid to laugh because the political and media mindset of “terrorism, death and sickness… live with it or die” is so pervasive that we need to read about it in every book we pick up? Do teens really need to read about office politics?

Maybe this guy knows the answer.