i spent the late afternoon reading Portrait of the Walrus by a Young Artist: A Novel About Art, Bowling, Pizza Sex, and Hair Spray and i’m having a hard go of it. i’m only about 60 pages in and all, but i can’t get over the fact that the author has frances’, the main character, mom wearing her bowling shoes all over the place. that’s just wrong. you can’t do that. you can’t wear bowling shoes outside of the bowling alley and then go bowl in them. you’d break your neck, because all the bottoms would get all roughed up and when you tried to slide you’d stick and then fall.
it bothers me greatly because it’s like a huge logical flaw that i can’t seem to get around. i keep trying to tell myself that maybe her mom takes the bowling shoes she wears outside off and puts on some other shoes for when she needs to bowl. but then don’t you think the author would mention that? but she doesn’t which makes me think the author never thought of that. and that really upsets me, because then clearly the author knows dick about bowling. and who doesn’t know that about bowling, really?
HEY! You could write one of those Howdunit books where “professionals” in criminology, etc, write about accuracy in reporting cause of death, c.s.i. stuff, drugs and weaponry, etc. Only you could tackle bowling. I smell money!
I often think the only writers making money are the ones selling books on how to write. God knows I have enough of them. (There should be something wrong with that, but it’s not like I haven’t thought about it myself.)