Over the weekend I received a rejection for a short story. The editor wrote, among other things:

"The prose is wonderfully done and incredibly engaging all the way through . . . . Great writing, though. Truly impressive. I’m frustrated that we don’t quite get what this story is trying to say, because the prose is that good."

So I am not complaining about the rejection, because it is actually more flattering than many acceptances I have received. And, in the context of that editor's needs and likes, it is perfectly fair.

As I was musing on that story and wondering if and how I might stiffen the plot, I started criticising my own ability or lack thereof to sometimes focus on the quality of prose styling. I suppose when one mixes fiction and non-fiction frequently then one will unconsciously be treating the former as the latter and continue "reading for information"; i.e. to see how the plot advances, rather than to take the time to savor the writing. So when I write I discount the plot; when I read I discount the style.

Currently I am reading _Under the Loving Care of the Fatherly Leader: North Korea and the Kim Dynasty_ by Bradley K. Martin. Given that, with every paragraph, I am shifting across hundreds of pages to the endnotes that add vital layers of complexity to the narrative, there is no time to admire what skill the author has with words. I hate fucking endnotes; if you're constantly including salient information in the back of the book you should either find a way to keep it in the main text or bite the bullet and bolster every page with thick footnotes. Otherwise you are seriously ruining the reader's flow.