Words from the inner doggess: why 50 Shades of Grey really sucks

I started to read 50 Shades of Grey and I can't tell you how over it I am - and I'm not even up to the inner workings of the red room of pain. Like, who gives a toss?Red, blue, green, black, buttercup yellow. Grey with smoldering gray eyes. It's all mediocre drivel.

I know what you're thinking - I'm jealous because this woman who can barely write has managed to get her three books onto the international bestseller list and is being feted by the media worldwide. My head spins. 

OK, maybe I am a teensy bit envious but that's not the point. My fingers are numb from the cold and they wouldn't be if I was rich (from book royalties) and didn't have to turn the heater off in the middle of the day to save money. I will die in the 'attic of the wannabe author' who can't find the time to write because she has to work to support her ungrateful family (to tell the truth, it's to support her desire for the finer things in life, like a trip to Heron Island in October). But that's not the friggin' point.

It frustrates me that this trite story that loosely follows Stephenie  Meyer's Twilight, down to the hapless heroine's clumsiness, is so hugely successful. 

I'm highlighting 'she/he murmured' (two to four per page, for God's sake) and the numerous references to the heroine's 'inner goddess', which does a happy hula dance every time the hero sucks voraciously on her elongated, highly erect, standing-to-attention nipples and whatever else he can get his tongue around/up/into. 

The inner goddess is ruined for me solely because of this book. 

I go to the dog, who is wisdom herself. 

Me: "Why do I hate this book so much, yet I continue to read it?"

Dog: "You're just jealous."

Me: "That's not quite true... OK, maybe... a little bit. I can't stand the lack of eloquence, the repetition, the stupid heroine and her inane references to her sparkly inner goddess. I'm over it."

Dog: "Rise above it to embrace your inner doggess. Howl at the moon. Gnaw on a bone, suck on your own bits. Your time will come."

Take from that what you will. I took the 'your time will come' part because unless you're double jointed or incredibly dextrous (or you happen to be a dog) it takes a big effort to suck your bits. 

Speak soon. 

PS: When I finish this bloody book, I will note the number of annoying she murmured/he murmured attributions. I mean, people don't murmur in real life. What the frig is wrong with 'she said/he said'?
  

PPS: Spanner, who has read 2.5 of the books but can't quite finish the third, pointed out that the hero Christian Grey constantly cocks his head to one side, rubs his thumb along Ana's cheek or jawline and presses his chiselled lips into a hard line.

PPPS: And I forgot to mention the peeking. (see comments)

       

Don't throw away the dream

The other night I dreamt I was in a huge department store (I had been locked in a cage with an echidna before I somehow arrived there - figure that one out).

Anyway, I was in the store but I'd lost my money and mobile phone. My family, who'd been with me, had disappeared and I didn't know how to get home, let alone out of the store. While the shop assistant was polite, she refused to let me use the store phone. I awoke from my dream uttering a strangled moan. I was crying!

My partner Spanner, who says he never dreams (makes sense), reckons I was upset because I couldn't buy anything.

All I know is that for several days after the dream I felt really sad and more anxious than usual. It was hard to shrug off the melancholic cloak.

Dreams are strange and often inexplicable. But they can also trigger the creative spark.

Here's what Stephenie Meyer wrote on her official website about the inspiration for her Twilight series:

I woke up from a very vivid dream. In my dream, two people were having an intense conversation in a meadow in the woods. One of these people was just your average girl. The other person was fantastically beautiful, sparkly, and a vampire. They were discussing the difficulties inherent in the facts that A) they were falling in love with each other while B) the vampire was particularly attracted to the scent of her blood, and was having a difficult time restraining himself from killing her immediately.

More recently, Scott Turow talked about his new book Innocent, which grew from a dream. In the dream he saw a man seated on the edge of a bed beside a woman's body.

That was it. An image.

Turow held onto the idea and, in time, realised the man was Rusty Sabich, the protagonist from his hugely successful 1987 novel, Presumed Innocent. The woman, dead under the covers, was Sabich's wife.

I don't know if my dream is worth developing - unless I can somehow work with the 'echidna trapped in cage with crazy woman' idea?

The moral of this story is - hold onto your dreams, they might come in handy one day.