My Time Lost in Books…

A fellow writerLike I said in my post “The Five Books That Made Me” I can get pretty sentimental about books and my history in reading when one of my novels is about to be released.

It’s like a kid going off to college! Packing the bags could be working with the editor, the drive there could be finalizing everything with the publisher, and dropping them off is the big goodbye. So that’s me this week, the parent trying to hide the tears.

Okay, I’m a little surprised this analogy is working…. What would that make the aftermath of the publishing? No idea there, but the grades are reviews, right? Perfect. Hopefully, my book won’t party too much.

A Jane Austen Daydream is set for release on April 30 exclusively via amazon.com, ending a project of years in the making. I could not be happier with the novel and I look forward to hearing what everyone thinks of it. Until then I am going to continue to enjoy my sentimentality. Care to join me? Here are ten of my favorite posts on my site around books:

  1. Missing My Vonnegut MomentVonnegut
  2. Me, Myself & Charles Dickens
  3. I get James Joyce… Well, no, not really
  4. Ray Bradbury
  5. Maurice Sendak: Childhood Visionary
  6. J.R.R. Tolkien; The Crazy & Magical Grandfather
  7. Say Hello to Mr. DeVere, I Mean Shakespeare…
  8. Hidden Away: The Marvel of Disappearing Writers
  9. The Folio Society: Celebrating Literature
  10. Living With Snoopy

Only a few days left!

Reblogged: Folio Society Article

An extended version of this editorial (yes, writers can do director’s cuts of their articles) has been published on The Folio Society’s website. I’m really proud to be on the site and I hope you will consider checking it out (and buy a book while there, they are lovely). Here is the link: http://www.foliosociety.com/member_stories/the-folio-society-celebrating-literature/

The Musings & Artful Blunders of Scott D. Southard

I have never understood why we readers treat literature so poorly.

We confine our classics to cheap paperbacks, five-dollar hard copies, bulk versions, and we throw them in bargain bins alongside fake biographies of yesterday’s celebrities.

Worse, sometimes we even add zombies to them…

Why aren’t readers more shocked by this treatment? These are our Rembrandts, our Van Goghs, our Monets. Basically, the classic books are what makes literature art, and yet we treat them so utterly, utterly horribly. Its like we take them for granted; we even dare write in their margins and use highlighters on them! (Okay, I did that too in college, but you get where I am going with this.)

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