I got accused of sounding very Bridget Jones in my writing the other day. I can’t quote the exact line (something about battered slugs having low self-esteem), but it prompted my father to snort with laughter and then comment “How very Bridget Jones, is that what you’re aiming for?”
My response – no, I’m not trying for anything. I’m just me”. With a small huff of dignity because, popular or not, Bridget Jones is hardly what you could call classy literature. I also do have to take my father’s comment with a pinch of salt because he has a tendency to pick one pop-culture reference when he means quite another. But true or not, the analogy stung a little bit close to the bone.
I do write fluffy, inconsequential waffle. With an edge of self-deprecating humour. I do spend far too much time in my content pondering men (and my lack thereof). I obsess about my weight. I… But that’s just how I am and how I naturally write.
Oh god. I’m not Bridget Jones am I?!
Would I sound quite so Bridget Jones if the books/films had never been written. Probably? I am hardly a fan, having read it once and trashed it in disgust, but I am a fan of certain chick lit authors. I’ve got this mild addiction to the popcorn spectrum of the literary market and I read more of it than I probably should.
Though I’m also a fan of Gibson, Austin, Stephenson, Banks, Reichs…. None authors known for their “fluffyness”. What I’m trying to say is that the accent of my writing is the same as the accent of my speaking. A blend of influences with a slight chameleon tendency to colour the edges depending on what I’ve heard (or read) lately. Force-feed me Buffy and you get Valley-slang. West Wing gets you DC-politico, with a side order of biting sarcasm. Battlestar gets you frack. SG:1 gets you military wit. And so on.
I couldn’t pick apart my genre influences if you paid me, but I’m pretty sure that Bridget Jones isn’t one of them. It would be like saying Dan Brown influenced me. Unthinkable. So there Crazy Canalman 😛