More Love

Jennifer Weiner is my hero. Especially after I attended a writing critique group on Wednesday, at which one participant said the premise of my story made him want to slit his wrists and then questioned my reading habits. Because I'm writing a fun story about a woman who is neurotic about being single when her 10-year high school reunion comes around. Which apparently doesn't meet his criteria for worthwhile and creative writing. Although a poorly written warmed-over vampire story does. And yes, I'm being cranky and bitter. But at least I'm entertaining.

And in case he's reading this: IMDB has 347 hits on vampires; 21 on fountain of youth.

And because I'm seriously worked up about this: Why is it okay for men to write and read purely entertaining books but women are put down for the same thing? No one would ever criticize a man for reading Tom Clancy, but I'm supposed to be embarrassed to read Anna Maxted. A man can write a spy thriller or a vampire story and no one questions the worthiness of the work but if a woman writes about what interests her, her story is trite. Why is that?