Boomer Lit and a Friday Blog Hop

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You may have heard the phrase “Boomer Lit” bandied about recently. There’s been a swell of talk about Baby Boomers and what the literature designed for boomers should or should not be. Some people think ‘s pretty much all nostalgia, a look back at the sex, drugs, and rock and roll that epitomized the age. Others think it’s what Boomers are thinking and doing with their lives now, as they “come of age.” Which could just be a synonym for…ack… Senior Citizen. At any rate, there’s a Facebook Page devoted to Boomer Lit, a Goodreads group as well, and you’ll probably see more of it as thyme goes by. (Did I just hear a chorus from Simon and Garfunkel?)

I don’t have a strict definition of Boomer Lit. For me, it’s more like the definition of pornography… I-know-it-when-I-see-it. And SET THE NIGHT ON FIRE, my 2010 thriller set both in the present and the late Sixties, qualifies.

With that in mind, I’ve joined a Blog Hop, which takes place only on Fridays. Those of us who sign up have agreed to post a teaser or two from our Boomer Lit books so you’ll get a taste of the tone, our voices, and maybe even the story.

Here are the opening paragraphs from SET THE NIGHT ON FIRE:

Dar Gantner was surprised when Rain showed up at the restaurant. He hadn’t counted on her to return his call. After a while he wondered why he’d even tried. His life had been a series of failures. Grandiose plans but flawed execution. No follow-through, no “closure,” as they called it now. It wasn’t for want of trying. God, or fate, or whatever you called the monkey upstairs, obviously had a plan for him. It just wasn’t the same plan he had.

She wasn’t the first person he called when he got out. That honor went to Teddy. He hadn’t gotten through, of course. He left a message and gave them the number of the cell he’d bought with his first paycheck. Good for a month, they said. Then you threw it away. He remembered exiting the big box store, appalled at how disposable capitalism had become. At the same time, he was fascinated by phones smaller than a pack of cigarettes. Dick Tracy’s wrist-phone come to life.

Now that you’ve read this, be sure to hop over here, where you will find a bunch of other BoomerLit authors to “sample.”

And enjoy your weekend!