(http://www.vulture.com/2013/10/how-to-create-a-teen-phenomenon.html?mid=twitter_vulture) I read YA because I write YA. Sue me. Then go read your dull, "classic" novel and get back to me about how incredibly not fun it was.
I've been writing my whole life. People say that all the time and I've said that before on this very blog. But when I say I write all the time, I mean constantly, consistently, my stories are tickling the back of my brain, shattering my focus, interrupting other things. Last night, I had a thought and and I'm always worried I'll forget these grand, majestic, intelligent thoughts and so I shouted out of the shower to my boyfriend down the hall--but of course he didn't hear me. Normal people would carry on with their warm shower, telling themselves they'd remember, and if they forgot, it apparently wasn't important, or maybe go so far as to repeat it to themselves...
I'm not normal people, apparently.
I jumped out of the shower, dripping wet, face wash beads still gritty on my palm, wrapped a towel around myself, and ran out into the FREEZING COLD APARTMENT. I had not expected the apartment to be SO DAMN COLD. But there I was, shivering and jumping up and down in the doorway to the living room, our patio door blinds slit open to the night--I'm sure there were students walking out there or at the very least, our Asian neighbors out for smoke breaks. But I stood there and I made sure he jotted down my idea on a piece of paper before darting back into my haven of warmth. I'm pretty sure he was still laughing when I returned in my PJs.
Sometimes I get really disheartened. I think, "oh, I'll never be like those published authors, I'll never finish a book, no one wants to read this shit." But "this shit" consists of 100s of pages I've written, that I've put time and attention into. It can't be for nothing, it just can't. I've been writing since before I can remember. My mother helped me make entries for contests as young as kindergarten. I won awards in fourth grade and by seventh grade, I'd handwritten a 100-page book--granted there was no plot, no nothing, but it was there. I've never stopped. I filled up the backs of my notebooks in and out of class, I stayed in when my friends invited me out to write--and watch Buffy the Vampire Slayer in the evenings. I'm sure my teachers of high school, if they ever remember me, they'll remember that I sat and I wrote and I didn't pay attention. I have most of those notebooks still, sitting in crates like my own personal library on my own personal history. I just wish I'd been more organized about my creative sprees because nothing is organized.
I keep writing because I could never stop. That's never been an option. It's not just a hobby, it's something present in my everyday life, whenever I'm not doing what I'm supposed to be doing--and often during that too--I'm thinking about writing. It's this feeling that bubbles beneath the surface, of creation and imagination and a hint of magic--the feeling I get when I read Harry Potter or Narnia novels, and any of the other books that first inspired me. I just hope it's not all for nothing. I hope I finish something. And I hope it's good. I hope I can be proud of it. I hope others like it. And if they don't, I hope I like it enough not to care.
And I tell myself there's no rush, but I see all these authors who are young writing for young people getting published and getting movie deals... I want to be that! And so do thousands of other people. Here comes the disheartening feeling, lashing through my good vibes. Great. Awesome. Moving on.
The best I can do is keep going--ending will turn up and the pieces will fill in, and someday, I'll have what they call a complete-looking novel.
Band of the Day: Bastille (I'm obsessed)
Book I can't have yet of the Day: Allegiant!! I want to read it soooo bad. Alas.
Book I finished of the Day: Brom's The Child Thief
It was so good--a dark, twisted, a dark, twisted, gory, mythological, f-word-heavy retelling of Peter Pan with fantastical art, beats from legend and myth, and plenty of shocking moments due to gore+children+zombie pirates+cursing... I recommend, though it's long and my interest wavered in the middle part. But I liked it.
Quote(s) of the Day:
“If you don't learn to laugh at life it'll surely kill you, that I know.” ― Brom, The Child Thief
“Don't let them win. Don't let them beat you. Don't let them steal your magic.” ― Brom, The Child Thief
“And Peter laughed, and when he did, all the Devils grinned, because Peter's laugh was a most contagious thing.” ― Brom, The Child Thief (The Devils are the Lost Boys, and this line is repeated throughout, that his laugh was a most contagious thing. I love it.)
To learn more: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/6308379-the-child-thief
Have a stupendous day!
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