It’s Terrible When Writers Go Bad

by Betsy Ashton

Betsy Ashton, born in Washington, DC, was raised in Southern California where she ran wild with coyotes in the hills above Malibu. She protested the war in Vietnam, burned her bra for feminism, and is a steadfast Independent. She is a writer, a thinker, the mother of three grown stepchildren, companion and friend. She mentors writers and writes and publishes fiction. Her first mystery, Mad Max Unintended Consequences, was published in February 2013. The second in the series, Uncharted Territory, A Mad Max Mystery, came out in April 2015. In her spare time, she is the president of the state-wide Virginia Writers Club. She loves riding behind her husband on his motorcycle. You’ll have to decide for yourself if and where she has a tattoo.

January 4, 2016

Writers can go bad. Some should have a “use-by” date on them. Others should be prevented from writing from time to time. To that end, a group of eleven writers in Lake Writers, a subchapter of The Virginia Writers Club, and the literary arts group of Smith Mountain Arts Council, set out last year to write the worst book ever. Think Bulwer-Lytton and “It was a dark and stormy night” on steroids. NEKKID CAME THE SWIMMER is the embarrassing result of that challenge.
This group of wickedly funny writers laid down certain rules. The main character, Lorelei Leigh Lakewurst, has long, flowing auburn tresses which she constantly tosses and emerald green eyes that flash at the blink of an eye. Stories have to take place on, in, under or around Smith Mountain Lake. There was no such thing as too many adjectives strung together, too many adverbs modifying too many dialog tags.

For example, the first time Lorelei attends a Lake Writers meeting, she meets Myown Poveratti, or POV. A plastic surgeon, he focuses on her heaving bosom. As Lorelei begins to get serious about writing, she says candidly, “I’d decided to write about an alluring s-x goddess who swims naked in the lake every month of the year. Why naked, you ask? Because I am allergic to spandex, that’s why. And I intended to write what I know–just like I learned from my author buddies at Lake Writers. How else would I KNOW what it feels like to swim nated in February?” You get the idea.

Not only is the writing, um, odd, so is the production of the book itself. Fonts change from chapter to chapter or within a chapter. Line spacing flips from single spaced to double. An editor address “O Gentle Reader” directly to explain what has just happened, in case the reader is too, um, feeble-minded to understand for him/herself.

The back of the book warns: DON’T BUY THIS BOOK! in red. DON’T READ THIS BOOK! in red. And it comes with a warning: “if you persist in reading this dreadful book, the members of Lake Writers take no responsibility for any damage to your intellect or sensibilities. You have been warned.”

In true writer/disclaimer fashion, none of my words are in this novel, although my copy has numerous coffee splurts.

NEKKID CAME THE SWIMMER is a project to raise money for scholarships given out by the Smith Mountain Arts Council. A mere $10 spent on Amazon will give you minutes of laughter. It’s such a small amount of money that I know you can afford to own one of your own. Believe me, you will regret it.

So, how about helping me raise a bit of money for scholarships. Follow the link above. I’ll be forever grateful, wildly happy, bosom heaving with emotion. Or some such rot.

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