So what's on your nightstand?

Show me an eager writer, and I'll show you an avid reader.

And chances are, I'll also show you a nightstand stacked high with titles just too interesting to put away. In fact, if your nightstand area looks anything like mine, you probably hope you don't have to make too many late-night bathroom trips, because it's a dangerously cluttered trail.

I wish I could tell you that the area around my bed is rife with the classics; everything from Homer's Odyssey to Gulliver's Travels by Jonathan Swift.

Um, no. I'm hardly that scholarly. In fact, confession time: I had to read Gulliver's Travels in high school and I found it so boring, I nearly cried. Now, before you condemn me for my lowbrow appraisal, let me just say that since then, at the urging of my far more literary sister, I have read more Swift, specifically his satirical essay, "A Modest Proposal," in which he suggests eating children as a way to eliminate them from becoming an economic burden.

Okay, that was pretty funny. Though it was obviously satire, it apparently shocked all his compatriots and almost made me forgive him for the whole Gulliver debacle.

So no, my literary mix usually doesn't include the classics. But to make up for it, I do try to be eclectic. And I am most definitely prolific. I keep a little bit of everything going so when I do sit down to write, I'm inspired by all types of genres, voices and views.

Here's a sampling of what pages I've been turning before I click off the lights. How about you?

Animal, Vegetable, Miracle: A Year of Food Life by Barbara Kingsolver. I'm a little behind the times on this one; it got a lot of hype awhile ago after Kingsolver wrote about how she and her family decided to go rural for a whole year. They'd either raise it, grow it, buy it locally, or do without. I just started it, and so far, it's a pretty entertaining read.

Fifty Acres and a Poodle (A story of Love, Livestock and Finding Myself on a Farm) by Jeanne Marie Laskas. What can I say? I must be having some rural fantasy life going - which is ironic because even my mother would tell you I can barely keep a single plant alive. But Laskas has been a columnist for the Washington Post Magazine, she's a great writer, and when I saw this, I just couldn't resist. Maybe this will be the spring my garden will actually grow.

Dare to Die by Carolyn Hart. You knew there'd be a murder mystery in there somewhere, right? Hart is a superb storyteller, and I actually thought I'd read all the offerings in her Death on Demand series. But this is a new one, and I know it will be great.

Lust, Loathing and a Little Lip Gloss by Kyra Davis. Yes, it's chick lit. But I'm a chick, so that's okay. And Davis is a fun writer - I've read a few other books of hers, starting with Sex, Murder and a Double Latte, and it was was a fast-paced, good read.

Haunted by Heather Graham. Heather, where have you been all my life? You've been in the romance section, that's where, and I never go there. But Graham's paranormal mystery/romances are like literary popcorn; I read them one after another, and they never disappoint. And lucky for me, she is an extremely prolific writer. (She's not the actress, by the way - it's a different Heather, surprise, surprise). I love her. I envy her. I can't wait to start reading this one - right now.

Can't choose? Blinded by choices? Let me help!! After all, I don't call this blog Death on Deadline for nothing. (www.smashwords.com)

Judging a book by its cover

A little while ago, in the grocery store, I got in line behind an elderly man. He was kind of sweet looking, with oversized glasses and a careworn face. "Oh, a grandfather," I thought to myself, smiling slightly at him. Then grandpa let 'er rip.
"Young people have just gone to hell these days," he told the stoic-faced clerk. "I can't go anywhere without getting angry."
He continued in that vein for a good five minutes. He hated this thing, this other thing was terrible, and he couldn't believe how awful everything else was. At first I was surprised. Then I felt sorry for him. Finally, I really just wanted him to shut the hell up.
Compare that story to this one: A few nights after that, coming home from work, I was stopping off at Arby's. (Ok, yes, you caught me. I eat at Arby's. I know - I feel bad about it because I like cows. But those junior sandwiches are so dang tasty!) Anyway, the parking lot was very dark, and there weren't many cars. As I was pulling in, a car sped in behind me and pulled up a few spaces away. Two guys got out - big guys. They had a little bit of a swagger to their walk, and while I'm no wimp, I thought, "Why ask for trouble?" and hesitated a second, pretending to goof around with my car door so they could walk ahead and go in first. It was freezing out, (of course - it is Michigan, after all) and as I moved closer to the entrance, one of the big guys turned around. Even though I still had quite a bit of distance to cover, he waited - holding the door open for me and letting me go in ahead of him. "Thank you!" I said, honestly surprised and pleased.
He just smiled. "You're welcome," he said.
Yep, you guessed it. In both cases, I'd labeled these two books by their covers. And I realized later that not only was I doing it in life, I was doing it in literature, too.
I've been in a rut - reading the same type of fiction over and over, simply because I'd told myself at some point in time I didn't read "that type of book."
Romances? Ugh. No way. Non-fiction. Booooring. I just read mysteries, thank you very much. By my favorite authors. I knew their style, and I liked it. I just, um, hoped they could write fast enough, because I really like to read.
So I decided it was time to branch out. I chose a paranormal romance by Heather Graham called "Ghostwalk." It was great. Then I found out she's a prolific author who has written literally dozens more books. Non-fiction? I played it safe with the well-known "Julie and Julia" by Julie Powell. Excellent - and far funnier than I thought it would be. It actually made me want to read Julia Child's memoir. Emboldened by experience, I even decided to try a "dog book," long against my principles because something bad ALWAYS happens to the dog and leaves me horribly depressed. But I picked up a copy of Jon Katz' "Dog Days" and God bless him, right there, after the dedication, he stuck in a page saying, in part: "To my readers: No dogs die in this book." Love that!!
I'm embarrassed it's taken me this long to branch out. Oh, I still love mysteries - heck, I just WROTE one. But there are shelves and shelves of great reading material got there - it would be a shame to judge all those titles before I even read the first page.