There is a conversation that comes up on occasion in more than one writer’s group that I belong to.
I usually let it slide.
Cause that’s what I do.
But now I can’t.
You see, the debate is on fluff or not fluff.
To read for just pleasure or for a huge plot that will change time as we know it.
Now I like a well-written book that contains a lot of emotion.
Of characters that grow and change and fall in love while getting their doctorate while juggling a full-time career.
But that’s not what this is about.
You see, I read fluff and I’m proud of it.
I read Robert Asprin’s Myth Conceptions until the book fell apart.
Piers Anthony’s Xanth series is still in the back bedroom.
One of my never to get destroyed or thrown out section. Duct tape and all.
I was first in line to buy Patricia Wrede’s Enchanted Forest Chronicles. (Still waiting for the September download darn it!)
So while others diss the fluff that others are writing, I won’t.
These books got me through my childhood. Through a nasty divorce.
I now read them to rediscover a part of me that was lost. The innocent part of me who saw more good than she does evil.
I read them to cheer myself up. To have a good moment in an utterly cheerless day.
You see with fluff books, I don’t have to worry if Skeeve will figure out his magical mystery (hint…he always does), or if Gleep will run away or if Buttercup will turn into a dragon for real.
I read for escape.
Yes, there are times when only Dune will do. When I feel like diving into the twisted mind of Frank Herbert, to dwell on living in a desert surrounded by my enemies. Where every action and thought is dwelled on until my own head begins to spin.
But there will always be times when only a great, I’ve read it before, feel good book does the trick.
What’s your feel good book? Do you have a secret section on your Kindle or in your bookshelf library? Fess up. Share a few!