tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-73798106476742831022024-03-05T02:59:08.426-08:00Book Rich, House PoorI buy a lot more books than I read. It's time to fix that.Rebecca Christiansenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03635706076314669496noreply@blogger.comBlogger206125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7379810647674283102.post-40450875735598268072014-02-27T23:38:00.002-08:002014-02-27T23:38:35.324-08:00Meeting Mr. Hugo: Nothing Like DisneyDisney's adaptation of <i>The Hunchback of Notre Dame</i> is one of my favourite films of all time. It has everything: a sweeping score that sends chills up your spine, endearing protagonists, an epic villain, and absolutely breathtaking visuals. It's an animated film that appeals mostly to adults. It's dark, and while it has some cartoony, silly moments, it's often scary and brutal (I present the "Hellfire" scene as evidence).<br />
<br />
But it's a Disney movie. It's written to appeal to kids, and to have a modern sensibility in its storytelling.<br />
<br />
The book is nothing like it.<br />
<br />
The movie starts with Quasimodo as a baby, being smuggled into the city by his gypsy mother. Claude Frollo chases her down, thinking her bundle is stolen goods, and ends up knocking her over, hitting her head, and killing her on the steps of Notre Dame. He then realizes she was carrying a baby, not something she'd stolen, and the baby is horrible disfigured. He's about to drop the baby down a well when he archdeacon of the church arrives, and charges Frollo with raising and caring for the child as a penance for what he did to the mother. Frollo reluctantly agrees, fearing for his soul, and says the baby must live in the bell tower of Notre Dame forever.<br />
<br />
In the book? Well...<br />
<br />
The real story starts with a single room. Hugo takes pages to describe the "Grand Salle" in the Palace of Justice, and the massive crowd of Parisians gathering in it on January 6th, 1482. It's a festival day, and there's going to be a presentation of a morality play, a popular form of entertainment in the Middle Ages. Parisians crowd around, waiting for hours and hours to ensure they have a good spot from which to watch the play. There are going to be a number of fancy people there to watch the play, including a lot of noblemen and a noblewoman from Flanders, who seems to be quite a big deal. The fancy people, including a cardinal who everyone is most eager to please, are late, so the play is delayed until they arrive. Everyone gets mad. The regular people start to bicker and grow restless.<br />
<br />
The guy who wrote the play is lurking about in the shadows. His name is Pierre Gringoire, and he starts chatting up some girls who think he's really cool for having written this eagerly-anticipated play. Then the fancy people arrive, making a huge fuss, and finally the play gets underway. Pierre Gringoire, who suddenly becomes our main character, starts getting really annoyed when the fancy folk don't pay attention to his play, because the regular folk start paying attention to the fancies, who start gossiping and carrying on. The play is kind of awful, anyway, and everyone goes along with it when this super cool fancy guy suggests they get on with another festival event, the selection of the "Pape des Fous," which translates to "Pope of Fools" but which Disney changed to "King of Fools," because you can't be making fun of the church in a Disney movie apparently. Oh yeah, they also switched Claude Frollo from an archdeacon to a judge in the movie.<br />
<br />
Anyway, the play is soundly ignored, and the people turn their attention to the people vying for the title of Pope of Fools. They have this puppet-stage like thing set up for people to pop their faces into and make scary faces at the crowd, hoping to awe and terrify them the most. Gringoire watches in disgust. He's <i>so</i> above them, being a super cool playwright and stuff. He watches as the crowd gasps when the ugliest face peers through the hole and becomes Pope of Fools.<br />
<br />
In the Disney movie, everyone is horrified when it's revealed that Quasimodo's face isn't a mask, that he really is that disfigured. In the book, literally everyone already knows who Quasimodo is. The fancy guy who grants the title is amazed by this ape-like, mute, deaf hunchback (oh yeah, he's mute and deaf in the book, from ringing the bells so much -- that actually makes sense), but everyone else kind of shrugs and goes, "Oh, yeah, Quasimodo, that guy." The literal words out of one guy's mouth are "Bonjour, Quasimodo!" They carry him off for fun and games as the Pope of Fools.<br />
<br />
At this point, I was like what. The. Literal. Fuck. Way to go, Disney, making the Medieval folk of Paris look like utter jerks for ostracizing poor Quasimodo when they really actually embraced him. And what the fuck, Victor Hugo, what is this? What a bizarre story.<br />
<br />
And it's still only the beginning.Rebecca Christiansenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03635706076314669496noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7379810647674283102.post-25100716269889091012014-02-22T21:27:00.001-08:002014-02-22T21:27:37.352-08:00Meeting Mr. Hugo: the BeginningBack in November (I think... was it really that long ago?) my boyfriend and I took a weekend trip to Victoria, BC. It's only about four hours away from home, but it feels like another place entirely. Just a nice place to spend a chill weekend, feeling like you've stepped back in time.<br />
<br />
The highlight of the trip, for me, was Munro's Books. It's a really old, independent bookstore in the heart of the city, in a beautiful old building, resplendent with pillars and stained glass and fancy plaster. It's a book lover's dream. I swear I thought I'd died and ended up in heaven.<br />
<br />
Needless to say, I busted the piggy bank and bought a sizeable stack of books. Like I usually do, I wandered the store, picking my purchase carefully. Shuffling them around, vetoing some, putting some back to acquire others. Making bargains with myself. Making Boyfriend carry some of my heavier selections. I was just about done when I rounded a corner and found myself face-to-face with a French fiction section, the biggest I've ever seen in a non-library.<br />
<br />
I was in a French immersion program in school from age 10 to 17. After a few months of learning the language, 70-95% of my classes throughout that time were in French (minus English classes, of course) -- I even had French gym class. We played "le hockey" and "le basketball." But after graduation from high school, I have barely used my French besides reading cereal boxes and shampoo bottles.<br />
<br />
So, as a booklover faced with a wall of books in a language I missed so much, I couldn't resist. I wanted to scoop up everything that looked even semi-interesting, but I settled on one: <i>The Hunchback of Notre Dame</i> by Victor Hugo, or <i>Notre Dame de Paris</i>, its French title. The Disney movie is among my favourites and I've always wanted to read the book and see how it compared.<br />
<br />
It sat in my TBR pile for a while, as most books I read do, until I decided it was time. And so, for about a month now, I've been reading <i>Hunchback</i> for an hour or so every night. Sometimes it's slow-going. Sometimes I have my French dictionary open as often as I have the novel open. But sometimes it's fantastic. Sometimes I fly through chapters as easily as if they were English. It's exhilarating, relearning something you used to know by heart, flexing muscles that haven't been flexed in ages, and rediscovering that, hey, I'm damn good with French.<br />
<br />
French isn't even the best part, though.<br />
<br />
<i>Hunchback</i> is a really, really, really good book. I'm only a few hundred pages in, with a long way ahead of me, but damn. It doesn't get anywhere near the amount of praise it deserves.<br />
<br />
And, also... it's fucking batshit insane.<br />
<br />
Seriously. Victor Hugo's mind is just... ah! How? Why? WHAT IS GOING ON?<br />
<br />
And so, I thought I'd start a bit of a blog series, hashing out this redonkulous book. Because I'm pretty sure Boyfriend is tired of hearing the words "Just guess what Victor Hugo fucking did in this fucking book, it's unbelievable!"<br />
<br />
Let's start at the beginning.<br />
<br />
But not the real beginning. Because it's hard to tell where exactly this book even starts. It certainly doesn't start in the first 54 pages -- that's just a huge long preface by some French scholar guy. I skipped that straight off the bat. But does it start in the next section, where Hugo writes about seeing some old word graffitied in Notre Dame by some Medieval delinquant. From there, he waxes poetic -- for seven pages -- about why he wrote the book. He wants you to appreciate Medieval architecture. That's his main point. The story isn't just a story, he says. It's meant to get his contemporary readers to look around their 19th century Parisian environment and stop valuing only the new and rejecting everything old. He straight-up admits that there are tons of extra chapters of Hunchback that are just about buildings and have nothing to do with the story. He freely admits that the book is bloated with extraneous information.<br />
<br />
Try admitting that as a writer today. Today, Hugo would definitely be one of <i>those</i> writers.<br />
<br />
And that's just one head-scratcher. The WTF starts pretty quickly after, in Book One.<br />
<br />
<i>To be continued...</i>Rebecca Christiansenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03635706076314669496noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7379810647674283102.post-50677272425203862682014-01-30T23:11:00.000-08:002014-01-30T23:11:08.618-08:00My reaction to the TFIOS trailerSo yesterday, the internet was gifted with the early release of the first trailer for THE FAULT IN OUR STARS, the movie. "Yay!" cried most of the world. "*sob*" was heard soon after.<br />
<br />
I had a few thoughts pertaining to the trailer, and since I'm incapable of putting words into cohesive paragraphs right now, here they are in list form:<br />
<br />
--Shailene Woodley seems utterly fabulous. I haven't seen any of her previous films or television work, but she seems like the absolute perfect YA heroine for the screen. She looks <i>real</i>. Nothing plastic or perfect about her. I'm excited about the movie just for this reason.<br />
<br />
--Ansel Elgort, whose work I know even less about, seems equally adorable. I think my high school self definitely would've had a crush on a boy who looked like that saying things like "I'm in love with you." Oh yeah, I could've gotten behind that.<br />
<br />
--That said... some of his dialogue in the trailer comes off a bit stiff. I find myself mentally revising some of his lines and wishing he'd said them a little differently. There's a lot of John Green in his dialogue, it would seem. Which is fine and accurate from an adaptation standpoint, since Augustus is hyper-intelligent and just a wee bit pretentious, very much like John Green, but... I don't know, sometimes I think there's such a thing as "too John Green" :P<br />
<br />
--Hazel's parents are going to break my heart on the screen just like they did on the page. Their faces in the trailer, in the hospital... oh God, I can already feel the tears pouring down my face.<br />
<br />
--Mike Birbiglia as the support group leader, Patrick = hilarious. I love Mike's standup, and hearing his simpering voice as Patrick is just pure perfection.<br />
<br />
Anyways, based on the trailer, I'm anticipating a pretty fantastic movie! It's about time a John Green book made it to screen, and I think this is a good one to start with. I hope it does well at the box office and proves to the world that YA can do this whole blockbuster thing.Rebecca Christiansenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03635706076314669496noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7379810647674283102.post-5406393174196425402014-01-22T10:38:00.002-08:002014-01-22T10:38:46.688-08:00Review: FANGIRL by Rainbow Rowell<br />
I don't know if everyone has this experience with reading YA literature, but a lot of the books I read don't feel real. There's something in them that keeps them disconnected from life as I, personally, know it. Usually it's tropes of American high school that don't exist for me in real life, as I'm Canadian. Homecoming. Sadie Hawkins dances. Pep rallies. I find those things alienating. I know what they're like because I've read so many books that include them, but I don't have any real connection there. I find a lot of YA romance to be isolating, too, because I had my first kiss at eighteen and got into my first real relationship a year ago, when I was twenty-one. Still in that relationship. I'm having all my "firsts" as an adult, so reading about fifteen-year-olds having them feels unrealistic a lot of the time.<br />
<br />
FANGIRL is not one of those "unreal" books.<br />
<br />
Even though it's set in an American college, yet another of those things that feels distant to me, FANGIRL feels like the story of my life, in a lot of ways. I wrote Harry Potter fanfiction for a few years in my early teens and even after I started writing original stories, I went through my teens feeling like Cath. The lame, dorky exception-to-every-rule. The weird basement gremlin who prefers writing about life to living it, and secretly resents everyone else for having what I supposedly didn't. Really, I was making choices that kept myself isolated. But I didn't really know any better, so I forgive myself. And like Cath, I wrote stories about gay boys -- I was obsessed with unavailable men because that way they couldn't hurt me.<br />
<br />
I related to Cath's story so much, especially the Levi aspect. Rainbow Rowell doesn't resort to romance writing clichés and shorthands. Instead of wallowing in the hero's eye colour or rippling pectoral muscles, she instead writes about his unconventionally attractive traits. A receding hairline. A wide forehead. A small mouth. Levi isn't just anyone's hunk but he's attractive to Cath. He isn't the strong, brooding silent type. He's an extrovert and has trouble with book learning, rather than being a genius scholar like so many love interests. As their relationship progresses, Cath revels in parts of him that are special to her and only her. His chin is her favourite part of him.<br />
<br />
I adored this. This is what loving someone is to me: appreciating the small things that make this person different and special to you. Like Levi, my boyfriend isn't a conventional heartthrob, but I wouldn't change his crooked teeth or wild eyebrows for the world. Rainbow Rowell really gets that feeling like I feel a lot of authors don't.<br />
<br />
There's absolutely nothing cliché about this book. Rowell never takes the easy way out in her writing. I can't freaking wait to read more from her.<br />
Rebecca Christiansenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03635706076314669496noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7379810647674283102.post-65895264169414588172013-10-15T22:36:00.003-07:002013-10-15T22:36:49.593-07:00Review: The Beginning of Everything by Robyn SchneiderThe original title for Robyn Schneider's <i>The Beginning of Everything</i> was <i>Severed Heads, Broken Hearts</i>. That's the title I originally saw on Goodreads and the title that initially drew me to this book. Let me tell you, if it had had the abysmal title of <i>The Beginning of Everything</i> from the outset, I wouldn't have even wanted to pick this up. Talk about a bland title. Even my boyfriend, who doesn't read much outside of Stephen King novels, curled his lip at that title when he saw me reading the book.<br />
<br />
At first I thought the severed heads thing from the title was just a figure of speech; maybe a metaphor for disconnected, disaffected youth or something. But nope. In the first chapter, the MC recounts the time he and his childhood best friend rode a Disneyland roller coaster and the kid sitting in front of them stood up at an inopportune time and wound up beheaded -- with the MC's best friend holding the head in shock for the duration of the ride.<br />
<br />
After reading that first chapter, I was like, "Sign me up, boringly titled book. You've redeemed yourself already."<br />
<br />
Unfortunately, it went downhill from there.<br />
<br />
<i>The Beginning of Everything</i> is peopled entirely with clichés. The sad, misunderstood male MC. The Manic Pixie Dream Girl he meets and falls head over heels in love with -- BUT SHE HAS A DARK, SECRET PAST. The stereotypically quirky group of "nerds" who belong to the debate club and watch Doctor Who. The Slutty McSlutterson of a cheerleading ex-girlfriend who is villainized for her sexuality. The parents who barely make an appearance. None of these characters <i>ever</i> make it past that initial archetype.<br />
<br />
I really can't believe this book. I really can't.<br />
<br />
A couple things I can't really articulate enough to write proper paragraphs on:<br />
<br />
--The MC, Ezra Faulkner (a very silly name), has a knee injury that shattered his athletic future... but it's never really mentioned as causing him any pain. He walks with a cane most of the time. He cannot play tennis anymore. And yet the most mention we get of how the injury -- which didn't happen very long ago -- affects his day-to-day life is maybe one or two mentions of a dull ache? Maybe one instance where he fancies walking his dog, but can't? I call bullshit. This is the kind of injury that changes your life far beyond not hanging out with your teammate friends anymore.<br />
<br />
--The secret, hidden past of the Manic Pixie was WAY TOO EASY to guess. And I am notoriously oblivious and awful at guessing twists. The instant there was a hint of foreshadowing, I was like "Oh, obviously her mom is dead" (not a spoiler, I made that example up). And I was right. Ugh!<br />
<br />
--I hate, hate, hate it when bad things happen to animals for no reason. This book gets a thumbs down on that count alone. Also, Ezra's dog. A Standard Poodle, so fairly big. Supposed to be <i>sixteen</i> years old -- which is old for a small dog! -- and still able to run and play fetch? Bullshit. No way.<br />
<br />
Aside from the occasional spot of inspired, beautiful prose, this book was dumb.Rebecca Christiansenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03635706076314669496noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7379810647674283102.post-47865879171670857562013-09-26T13:45:00.002-07:002013-09-26T13:45:46.651-07:00Review: ARCLIGHT by Josin L. McQueinI read this book in support of the author. She's a prominent poster on Absolute Write, and her posts often make me think and applaud. It often happens where my main interest in a book is the support of its author, not the story itself.<br />
<br />
So that's how I came into this book. Try as I might, I'm not really a sci-fi fan. Except in my love of Star Trek. I've never really been able to develop a sci-fi passion outside of Star Trek. Probably has something to do with my parents taking one-year-old me to a Trekkie convention and meeting Jonathan Frakes (the one childhood memory I wish I could remember).<br />
<br />
Josin L. McQuein has another book coming out this year, October's Premeditated, a contemporary revenge thriller that is more up my alley than Arclight was. So earlier this year I bought Arclight hoping it would give me a taste of the awesome to come in that book.<br />
<br />
And yeah, Premeditated will be awesome, if Arclight has anything to show for it. Arclight itself? Well... it was awesome, too. In a sense.<br />
<br />
This is a very unique book. It isn't your typical YA sci-fi. Hell, it isn't your typical YA. This book has more to say than any other YA sci-fi I've ever read. It isn't just a surface-deep action adventure, although there's plenty of action. This is a book that appears to be one thing, appears to show the world in one light, but the further you read, the more layers are peeled back. This is a book that speaks volumes on war and indoctrination and race relations, and how different groups can be hated -- and murdered -- just for misconceptions and lies spread by their enemies. This book is brave and scary and deep.<br />
<br />
But this book is also unclear.<br />
<br />
I felt that McQuein's writing could have benefitted from more tell and less show, the opposite of my prescription for most writers. Often, especially in the first half of the book, the reader is left to flounder. It's hard to ground yourself in what's happening because the prose can be so very murky. Rather than tell you that a certain character is another character's brother, four or five hints at a close relationship are dropped within a chapter and it's up to you to gather the facts and figure it out. Sometimes a hundred words are used to show you something that could have been easier summed up by a quick sentence or aside.<br />
<br />
The Fade, the creepy-as-hell race of monsters who terrorize the humans who live in the Arclight, are amazing creatures. When we don't know much about them, they're surrounded by this awesome aura of creeptasticness. And when we do learn more about them, when the layers of the story unfold, they're revealed to be an amazingly unique race of people that I'm really impressed with McQuein for imagining. The problem lies between those two states, though. The Fade in the beginning take an awful long time to develop from scary, mysterious monsters into concrete beings that we can see and understand. Point A and Point B are great, but stringing the two together, we get confused and muddled in how we're supposed to be imagining these things.<br />
<br />
The main character, Marina, was actually a superbly written protagonist -- blank and dull in the beginning, but there's a reason for this that makes the whole book worth it. I didn't guess the twist in this character at all (but then, I'm notoriously bad for guessing twists, so your mileage may vary here). Other characters were not so well realized, though. Tobin was a complete throw-away of a love interest. Too perfect, too loving, not really well-described enough for me to tell you anything about what he looks like or what his personality is like. And -- this was a real WTF moment for me -- in the beginning he beats a boy almost to death for insulting Marina, and... this is okay with everybody. The boy spends the rest of the book in the hospital with nary another mention, and no one EVER turns on Tobin for this or punishes him in any way. WTF?<br />
<br />
So this book does amazingly well on a concept and philosophy level, and the science here is pretty sound, too. Scores on the clarity and characterization, though, are disappointingly low.<br />
<br />
Will I read the sequel? Mmm... maybe.<br />
<br />
Will I read other books by Josin? Hell yeah.Rebecca Christiansenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03635706076314669496noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7379810647674283102.post-44803848511967183772013-09-15T16:06:00.000-07:002013-09-15T16:06:20.157-07:00I'm baaaack!Yes, you read that title right: I'm coming back to blogging.<br />
<br />
Sort of.<br />
<br />
Y'see, blogging tires me out. When I look at other peoples' fabulous blogs, with all those widgets and pictures and pretty things, it makes me tired and sad and like I'll never amount to anything. And trying to keep up with everyone else's super awesome memes and series... forget it. I become a quivering mass of apathy.<br />
<br />
But I genuinely do like sharing my opinions occasionally. And I've been a lot better at actually reading books and stuff lately, and wanting to get back into reviewing.<br />
<br />
So on this blog I will post reviews. I will post the odd writing-related thing. I will probably blog a bit during NaNoWriMo, which isn't so far away (!!!).<br />
<br />
I will not be doing anything that makes me tired or frustrated or confused. I will not be posting pictures (that includes cover pictures of the book I'm reviewing... I hate doing that for some reason), unless I really feel I HAVE to share this picture or I'm just going to die.<br />
<br />
So, under this new blog title (Book Rich, House Poor -- because I have a fabulous book collection but almost nothing else to my name, heehee), that's what's gonna happen. Are we excited? I'm excited :)Rebecca Christiansenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03635706076314669496noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7379810647674283102.post-15531049577743741962012-09-11T20:00:00.001-07:002012-09-11T20:00:22.766-07:009/11I'm probably the last person alive qualified to write a blog post about 9/11. I'm Canadian. I was ten years old on September 11th, 2001, on the opposite coast from New York. The attacks had little to no effect on my everyday life, besides the effect they had on the media.<br />
<br />
It took a long time for me to fully understand and appreciate what happened that day. The only thing I can contribute to a discussion about 9/11 is a book recommendation.<br />
<br />
If you're like me and spent a lot of years feeling disconnected and unaffected by something a lot of people seem to really care about, read <a href="http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/5982447-love-is-the-higher-law">Love is the Higher Law by David Levithan</a>. Besides being a good coming-of-age story with a fledgling romance that makes my stomach flutter, it's a truly transcendent, emotionally telepathic novel. Because of this book, I understand why 9/11 is a big deal. Read it.Rebecca Christiansenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03635706076314669496noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7379810647674283102.post-56180062604197259342012-08-19T17:59:00.001-07:002012-08-19T23:06:45.289-07:00Review: The Unnaturalists<br />
I wish The Unnaturalists was as cool, clear, and well-defined as its cover is.<br />
<br />
I was so ready to love this book the minute I read the summary. Girl scientist in a steampunk, alternate Victorian London? Soooooo sweet. I was beyond excited when I got an ARC in the mail (thanks for the heart attack, Simon & Schuster Canada!), because usually they just send me ARCs of sequels to books I haven't read and then I have to give them away.<br />
<br />
I was still set to love it when I read the first, breathtaking sentence: "The Sphinx stares at me from her plinth." Right on the first page, Vespa Nix is in the Museum of Unnatural History, being cornered by a freaking Sphinx. You soon find out that the Sphinx is frozen in a time-warp forcefield thing and of no real danger, which is an epic mind trip. God, the first page is so cool.<br />
<br />
But after that -- very soon after, on like the second page -- the book becomes muddled. Vespa is pushed (by a mysterious, anonymous hand) into the forcefield and she's trapped in a forcefield-like room thing where the Sphinx is ALIVE and ABLE TO HARM HER, and you're all like OH SHIT MAN WHAT'S GOING TO HAPPEN HOW'S SHE GOING TO ESCAPE?!?!<br />
<br />
But... the Sphinx just kinda looks at her. And stuff. It seems like the author is going for a super-tense, omg-is-she-about-to-spring-and-attack? kind of moment, but it drags on for, like, a couple pages of description of the moment so it ceases to be tense anymore because you're pretty sure the Sphinx is still frozen, in the author's own description freeze-frame, so she can't possibly hurt Vespa anyway.<br />
<br />
And oh, Vespa. Vespa Nix. What an awesome name. And she's a POC (maybe mixed race?) girl in the book AND on the cover, whoot! But unfortunately, not even that -- and not even her killer dress -- can save her for me. She sounds like a Valley Girl, and in a Victorian (or pseudo-Victorian) setting, it's just so, so distracting. Also, for all that they try to make her this passionate scientist, she spends all of two minutes studying science in this book. She talks on and on about how much she wants to be the first female scientist in her world, but she never even talks or thinks about her so-called passion. She's too busy fawning over her brand-new, shiny Love Interest, Pedant Lumin/Hal/Bayne/The Architect.<br />
<br />
I hate the love interest, by the way. He honestly had four names, and he's called each of them quite a lot of times. Who is this guy?!?! He's a scientist at the museum. No, he's a secret agent for the Architects. No, he's a lord's son. He had a major identity issue; I couldn't identify him, much less swoon over him, because I never got a clear picture of him.<br />
<br />
I should probably mention the POV of this book. Half of it is in Vespa's first-person POV. The other half is third person POV following a young (how young, though, I wasn't really sure... maybe 12 or 13?) Tinker (think gypsy) named Syrus Reed. The two stories are barely related. The POV characters see each other a handful of times and they're loosely connected in a plot kind of way, but the discrepancy between the POVs is just too big. It felt like two novels stuck roughly together. I would have greatly preferred this book to be entirely in Syrus's third person POV. But that book, if it existed, would fit much better into the middle grade world.<br />
<br />
I dunno. This book was just muddled.Rebecca Christiansenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03635706076314669496noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7379810647674283102.post-26279447869245724262012-08-09T12:54:00.003-07:002012-08-09T12:54:28.643-07:00My Bad Writing: Betrayal by Family, Part 3When we has left Ea and Emmith, they were... hugging! Pass my smelling salts!<br />
<br />
What happen next is more idiot romance:<br />
<br />
<i>Evening found the two of them in the small town of Kingston. Ea had enough gold coins to get a room at a little inn on the outskirts of town. They had a pleasant meal of bread, potato, and some cheese. There was only one small bed in the room, and Emmith said that since Ea had paid for the room, she should have the bed. But Ea said that since Emmith had rescued her, he should have the bed. </i><br />
<br />
Oh, just freaking sleep together already.<br />
<br />
<i>They could not settle the matter, so they shared the bed. It was moderately comfortable, and they were tightly squeezed to the sides, as it felt odd to be so close to each other. Ea fell asleep first that night, and Emmith, before he fell asleep, kissed Ea every so lightly on the forehead.</i><br />
<br />
Meh, I got my wish.<br />
<br />
But I hate this. Hate with a passion. It's that stupid old trope of chaste bedsleeping between characters who are obviously attracted to each other. Ridiculously lame.<br />
<br />
Speaking of ridiculously lame... after buying Ea "commoner dresses" in the town...<br />
<br />
<i>"Emmith, last night you kissed me, didn't you?"</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Emmith was suddenly quite embarrassed. </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>"What? Oh, uh, yes I did," he stuttered. "Why do you ask?"</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Ea smiled. "You could have just told me you liked me, you know. Not that I didn't like it." She looked at him.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Emmith was taken aback. "You -- you enjoyed it?"</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Ea cocked her head and grinned. Emmith reached out for her hand and they walked back to the inn hand-in-hand.</i><br />
<br />
Hahahahaha. He takes her hand and they walk hand-in-hand. L-O-fricking-L.<br />
<br />
Then some soldiers arrive at the inn, looking for Queen Ea Mara. Ohhhhhh shit! Ea and Emmith escape to the roof while the soldiers search the inn, but not before they overhear the innkeeper telling the soldiers the names of the people staying at the inn and Ea hears him say "Emmith Greene and his wife, Eve."<br />
<br />
So when the soldiers are gone, they continue journeying. Emmith is the strong, silent type.<br />
<br />
<i>They had been traveling for about an hour along a dusty road. Ea was practically crying. Emmith hadn't said a word since before the soldiers arrived at the inn, which was totally out of character for him. </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>"Emmith, what's wrong? You have been ignoring me! Please, just talk to me!" she cried. </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Emmith turned to face her, his brown eyes full of hurt and confusion.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>"Didn't you hear the soldiers talking to the innkeeper? They said Queen Ea Mara! Either something terrible happened to your father or he abdicated as king! You are now queen!" He was breathing heavily. "Now it's crucial that we get you to Peterberg Palace." He sat down on a log beside the road. "It was -- well -- I was hoping we could settle down together and forget your heritage."</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>He was close to tears. Ea sat down beside him and hugged him.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>"Me too. I'm not so sure I want to be queen, now. I don't want so many people after me, hating me. I just want to be normal. And with you." She buried her face in his shoulder as he hugged her.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>"I know, me too, Ea," he whispered. "Let's keep walking."</i><br />
<br />
I just want to slap the two of them into next week.<br />
<br />
The next night, they sleep in a barn. Ea goes into Emmith's backpack while he's out searching for food, because she's really good at personal boundaries, and finds his journal. Of course he keeps a journal. Of course. She reads the latest entry, which tells us absolutely nothing new. Emmith talks about the soldiers arriving at the inn, and finding out that Ea is queen. Then he sounds like a super conceited bastard as he waxes on and on about how Ea should be with him because he doesn't care about her money, unlike foreign princes or whoever else wants to marry her.<br />
<br />
And then we get proof that Ea's head is a hollow gourd full of stale air and bits of lint.<br />
<br />
<i>Ea closed the journal in wonder. Did he really feel that way about her? But, then again, why did he write it if he didn't?</i><br />
<br />
HE LOVES YOU. YOU'RE AN IDIOT. AND HE'S AN IDIOT.<br />
<br />
AND I WAS AN IDIOT FOR THINKING YOU UP >.<Rebecca Christiansenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03635706076314669496noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7379810647674283102.post-20911864018947472552012-08-06T08:00:00.000-07:002012-08-06T08:00:02.340-07:00My Bad Writing: Betrayal by Family, Part TwoWelcome to Part Two! If you missed it, <a href="http://nerdgirlreadsandwrites.blogspot.ca/2012/08/my-bad-writing-betrayal-by-family-part.html#comment-form">here's Part One</a>.<br />
<br />
When we last left Ea and Emmith, the idiotic heroine and hero of my unfortunate tale, they were running away from Ea's evil Uncle Unriché, who had planned to kill Ea... at some point. He just had dinner with her, alone. Why didn't he kill her then?<br />
<br />
Anyway.<br />
<br />
The next chapter picks up with this gem of a line:<br />
<br />
<i>Next morning, Ea woke to the smell of fish.</i><br />
<br />
...all I want to do is *facepalm*. Serious cringe. Ahhhh, don't look at me, I'm not the same writer as the one who wrote this line!<br />
<br />
It only gets better.<br />
<br />
<i>"Where am I?" she said sleepily as she looked around her. She was in a small clearing in a forest, and on the other side of the clearing Emmith sat with his back to her, crouched over a campfire.</i><br />
<i><br /></i><br />
<i>"Oh, Princess, you're awake. I made some breakfast, if you want it," he said, blushing.</i><br />
<i><br /></i><br />
<i>"Thank you, Emmith. And you don't need to call me princess, just Ea is good." She sat up on her bed of leaves and rubbed her eyes. "So, Emmith, where exactly are we?"</i><br />
<br />
Oh god. Braided ropes. Beds of leaves. The silliness continues.<br />
<br />
And continues:<br />
<br />
<i>Emmith shrugged. "I dunno, exactly, but we're about nine, possibly ten kilometers from your uncle's palace, approximately."</i><br />
<br />
Sigh. Then we get the obligatory "heroine looks intently at hero and realizes he is the smexiest guy evah" paragraph.<br />
<br />
<i>Ea looked at him intently. He was a very good-looking boy with nearly shoulder-length curly dark brown hair framing his adorably innocent face and big brown eyes. All Ea's ladies in waiting fancied him, and he was the talk of their sewing sessions. Emmith was a young blacksmith's apprentice and he made swords for the king and his knights.</i><br />
<br />
HA. Will Turner, is that you?!<br />
<br />
And then, basically, Ea sees that he brought a sword with him and she asks "What if my uncle sends soldiers after us?" and Emmith basically says "Meh, ain't no thang" and then they eat fish for breakfast. Bleh.<br />
<br />
Then we flash back to the palace for the best villain moment I've ever written.<br />
<br />
<i>Lord Unriché stood in the great hall sniggering to himself and waiting for his niece to make her appearance. </i><br />
<i><br /></i><br />
<i>"Captain," he shouted at a soldier.</i><br />
<i><br /></i><br />
<i>"Yes, my lord?"</i><br />
<i><br /></i><br />
<i>"Has the princess come down yet?"</i><br />
<i><br /></i><br />
<i>"No, not yet, sir."</i><br />
<i><br /></i><br />
<i>"Lazy oversleeper. Send her maid to wake her. I'm getting impatient."</i><br />
<i><br /></i><br />
<i>"Yes, sir."</i><br />
<i><br /></i><br />
<i>Lord Unriché chuckled. He was feeling quite happy that day. His brother and that wife of his captured by soldiers in Stevron, and their only child was to be arrested where she thought she was safe. </i><br />
<i><br /></i><br />
<i>"My lord, she's gone!" a young soldier approached Unriché.</i><br />
<i><br /></i><br />
<i>"What? What do you mean, she's gone?" he spat.</i><br />
<i><br /></i><br />
<i>"Her window was open and the bed is empty! No sign of her!"</i><br />
<i><br /></i><br />
<i>"Are you sure? She couldn't have just disappeared! Send men into the grounds to find her! Search everywhere within a mile of here!" he shouted. His good mood was temporarily ruined.</i><br />
<br />
Can't... stop... laughing.<br />
<br />
Unriché, it's your fault. You should've just arrested her at one of the million opportunities you had earlier. Quit chuckling and sniggering to yourself and get some kidnapping done.<br />
<br />
Okay, then the POV snaps back to Ea and Emmith, who are crouched in some bushes listening to some soldiers who randomly appeared near them. This scene is boring. They overhear a page-long argument about whether to go east or west. It's unremarkable, except for the part where "a voice shouted at a stubborn voice."<br />
<br />
And then this happens:<br />
<br />
<i>Emmith smiled worriedly at Ea, who was white with fear. Then Emmith did something he had wanted to do ever since he met Ea eight years before. He pulled her close to him in a tight embrace, and to his surprise she didn't resist. She just sank into his arms, and there she stayed for minutes that seemed to be hours.</i><br />
<br />
To my eleven-year-old mind, this was blush-inducing, perfect romance. A hug. Really. I kind of feel like reaching back in time and slapping myself, because to no one else is hugging a distraught person who just heard a bunch of people say that her uncle was going to murder her romantic. It's just a decent thing to do. Also, Emmith is still an idiot. And a Will Turner ripoff. And a Josh Groban wannabe.<br />
<br />
I forget if there's a part coming up where he sings, but knowing my eleven-year-old self, I'm sure there must be.<br />
<br />
Thank you for reading! Stay tuned for Part Three!Rebecca Christiansenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03635706076314669496noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7379810647674283102.post-46527198374941721352012-08-04T18:11:00.001-07:002012-08-04T18:11:02.181-07:00Discussion: Character namesInspired by <a href="http://michelle-krys.blogspot.ca/2012/08/naming-characters.html">the awesome Michelle Krys's post</a>, I started thinking about character names.<br />
<br />
I freaking love names. They fascinate me. I keep a mental list of all the awesome real names I've heard in my lifetime (topping the list are Peter Brilliant, Manley Gage, and Carla Holy).<br />
<br />
I don't know if you could get away with a Peter Brilliant, Manley Gage, or a Carla Holy in a novel. Sometimes real life is stranger than fiction. With character names, I find you have to strike a balance between distinctive and ordinary most of the time. The name has to suit the character to some extent. Not always literally -- don't name a wise character Sophia just because Sophia means wise -- but you have to take the character's parentage and circumstance in life into account when you name them.<br />
<br />
For example, the bride of a Medieval king is unlikely to be named Destiny. But a girl born in the mid-nineties? That works. A girl with Buddhist parents being named Mary Catherine? Yeah, probably not. But if she was born into a Catholic family, it makes a lot more sense.<br />
<br />
In the early stages of writing, a character feels nebulous to me until I find the perfect name. Once I do, everything comes together. Their personalities often come from their names, in some strange way. Here's a quick sample of this at work in my writing:<br />
<br />
Tristan Tennant (protagonist of A BRAVER THING): Tristan is a soft, lilting kind of name, which is definitely how I'd describe Tristan's personality. His nickname is the androgynous Tris, which fits his appearance. His surname, Tennant, is a nod to his Anglophilia -- David Tennant, anyone?<br />
<br />
Prince Malcolm (A BRAVER THING): He's the Prince of Wales, so his lack of a surname fits his station in life. He has a bazillion middle names, though, which comes from his royal heritage, too. But his first name, Malcolm, is very unorthodox -- it's Scottish, which is a little bit scandalous for a British prince. But Malcolm himself is a little bit scandalous.<br />
<br />
Lauren Alfredsson (protagonist of a new WIP, WONDERFUL): The name Lauren has always conjured up a tall, solidly-built blonde girl to me, so her physical appearance is tied to her first name. One of her parents is from Sweden, which accounts for her surname. Plus I just love the way the name rolls off the tongue... which is handy, since this WIP is written in third person instead of first, so I have to use it a lot more!<br />
<br />
So, yeah, I'm curious: if you're a writer, where do your character names come from? How do you pick them? Do they matter a lot to you, or is it more like, if it fits, it fits? If you're a reader, how do you feel about the names of characters you read? Do they matter to you?<br />
<br />
Hope you're all having a lovely summer out there! Anyone watching the Olympics? (I am. Rather obsessively.)Rebecca Christiansenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03635706076314669496noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7379810647674283102.post-14167772949898233982012-08-01T12:00:00.000-07:002012-08-01T12:00:00.603-07:00My Bad Writing: Betrayal by Family, Part OneOh, God, just looking at that title makes me wince. <i>Betrayal by Family</i>... what was I thinking...<br />
<br />
Well, I can pretty much tell you exactly what I was thinking. I was eleven years old. I bored as hell. And judging by the content of this fifty-page story (27 smudged, torn notebook pages, front and back), I was boy-crazy and full of gooey romantic ambitions.<br />
<br />
<b>The Story</b><br />
<br />
Betrayal by Family follows the life of a young princess named Ea Mara. Yeah. Her name is Ea. Pronounced <i>Eee. </i>I deserve to be shot for that name alone.<br />
<br />
Anyway, the story opens with this line, written in bubbly cursive:<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i>Princess Ea Mara sat in the carriage, not exactly thrilled with her parents for making her go 'there'.</i></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Y'know what, it's not an awful opening line. It's bad, but it isn't super cringe-worthy. If I were allowing myself to rewrite, I would change it to "Ea sat in the carriage, not exactly thrilled that her parents made her go <i>there</i>." But I'm not allowed to rewrite. I have to relive this without making it easy for myself.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
"There" is her Uncle Unriché's palace (oh, FML... Unriché should NOT be a name that exists). I go into a tell-don't-show spree as I explain absolutely everything you need to know about Unriché throughout the entire story:</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i>Ea never liked her uncle Unriché. He was rather sly and cold. His gray eyes always glinted with malice, and he was never very kind. But she had to stay with him in his large and unwelcoming palace. Just until her parents could come and take her home.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Yep, I know what you're thinking: I wonder if this Unriché fellow could be the villain?!?! Well, I won't spoiler it for you. You'll find out soon enough.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
And, wow. Disappearing Parent Syndrome. Of course. I was eleven. Parents were the devil.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i>The footman opened the carriage door and Ea looked out at Uncle Unriché's palace. Large and gray, the palace sat alone on a giant hill. </i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i>"Thank you, Jeeves," she said to the driver. </i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i>"Your highness," he said gruffly. </i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i>Ea stepped onto the walkway up to the palace as the carriage pulled away. Her uncle walked up to her with a few soldiers behind him.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Jeeves? Jeeves? Seriously?</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Also, "her uncle walked up to her with a few soldiers behind him." Lol forever. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Anyway, Unriché says some stuff in an "oily voice" and then he leads Ea up to the palace. I'm actually really surprised I didn't take this all the way up into Ea's bedroom and describe every last detail of her bed and pillows and wardrobe. I'm impressed.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
But I had more important things to describe. Like the love interest.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i>In the bushes outside the palace, Princess Ea Mara's only hope hid. Ea's father's swordcrafter, a 17-year-old young man named Emmith had heard of a plan being plotted by Lord Unriché. He knew right away he had to save Ea before it was too late. He brushed away his curly brown hair and looked up at Ea's window. It took all of his effort to control himself from screaming up to her, telling her the plot. But he didn't. His only hope of taking her with him was if he whisked her off at night. He wasn't quite sure what he would do, where he would take Ea once he had her. But that didn't matter yet. He sat in a tree braiding and tying rope to make a rope ladder that he would use to climb to Ea's window that night.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
...</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
......</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
...........</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
BRAIDING AND TYING ROPE.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Oh my God, I wish I was joking. I wish I had never written this paragraph. Braiding... and tying... rope. WTF?! If the rope is, in fact, rope, it would already be serviceable in its ropey form. Why must it be braided, Emmith? Why?! Why are you sitting in a tree, brushing your curly brown hair and braiding what I can only picture as long chunks of stringy hemp in order to fashion your dashing method of escape? If speed is so important, why didn't you bring a pre-made rope ladder? Or just a ladder? Why in the name of God are you braiding your own rope?!!??!</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
*deep breath*</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Okay... so, meanwhile, Ea goes to dinner with "her hair perched on top of her head in an elegant bun," in an "unappealing dove gray dress that she hated" (for some undisclosed reason). At dinner, "the food was good, but the company was terrible. Unriché just ate, smoked his pipe, and stared into the fire." </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
And then it becomes a bodice ripper.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Well, not really. But Ea goes up to her room after dinner and the instant she's alone, she "ripped off her dress and crossed the road to her bed in her petticoat" -- crossed the <i>road?</i> -- "only to look up and realize she wasn't alone in her room."</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
That's right! Everyone's favourite rope-braider is sitting on her bed!</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Now I'll treat you to a choice excerpt, demonstrating my fabulous dialogue-writing skills.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i>When she saw Emmith sitting on her bed, she jumped with surprise.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i>"Emmith! What -- what are you...?" she stuttered. Emmith cut her off.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i>"Quick, Ea, pack your things and come with me! Your uncle means you harm! We must leave..." he blurted out, crossing the room to the princess.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i>"Emmith, tell me why we must leave! Please!" Ea cried.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i>Emmith sighed. "All right, but you have to believe me, okay?"</i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i>Ea nodded.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i>"When you go down to the great hall for breakfast in the morning, your uncle will put you under arrest! Your parents have been captured in the north, on their way to Stevron. I decided to come and save you, because I was the only one with courage enough to do so," he sighed. "And also I wanted to -- to -- to," he looked at his feet. "Oh, I'll tell you later. We have to go." He gathered up the rope ladder, secured it and turned to Ea. "Do you need help to get down?"</i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i>"That would help," she said, stunned. "You may help me, yes." </i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i>He helped her onto the rope ladder and held her waist as he climbed down. After they were safely on the ground two stories from the window, Emmith cut the rope ladder down, and the two of them disappeared into the night.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
My God. What to pick on first? The idiot rope ladder, which would be a thousand times slower than if Emmith just broke into the palace? The constant use of names in the dialogue? The exclamation points? The use of "he sighed," even though exclamation points previously pointed out that they were excited and, well, not sighing? </div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I'm not going to lie. I just burst out laughing at so much of this scene. And as I leafed through the pages and read some lyrics doodled in the margins, I remembered that I pictured Emmith as Josh Groban. </div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUC3rv8vy-RrjEMJQxstkeRFMG3WbULvB9EyqzN5yjq6IRh3aXaHtLsFXD4uFVvksVZV430lTPFis2DgwLldEBBHRPeTNLmpe6FR_jA5hl2vxYPM8uaebCnKzZIlBNa0sbEnbgMIwmLWPu/s1600/Screen+shot+2012-07-28+at+6.34.03+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUC3rv8vy-RrjEMJQxstkeRFMG3WbULvB9EyqzN5yjq6IRh3aXaHtLsFXD4uFVvksVZV430lTPFis2DgwLldEBBHRPeTNLmpe6FR_jA5hl2vxYPM8uaebCnKzZIlBNa0sbEnbgMIwmLWPu/s1600/Screen+shot+2012-07-28+at+6.34.03+PM.png" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>"Why would I braid my own rope ladder when </i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>there were perfectly reasonable alternatives?</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>You wrote me as a moron, Becca."</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Sorry, Josh. I did it out of love. </div>
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<br /></div>
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Stay tuned for part two! Lots more idiocy to come!</div>Rebecca Christiansenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03635706076314669496noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7379810647674283102.post-34498656433550911022012-07-30T18:21:00.001-07:002012-07-30T18:21:17.122-07:00First draft done... now reading hibernation!I just typed my favourite two words into the end of my WIP's document:<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
THE END</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
It's not really the end, of course. According to my usual way of writing, this thing needs MASSIVE overhauls. But that's for another day. For the next two weeks at least, I'm going to read, read, read. No writing, just getting back to my roots. Every writer is a reader first. I need time to remind myself of that. </div>
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<br /></div>
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Also, I'm in danger of being crushed by my TBR pile.</div>Rebecca Christiansenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03635706076314669496noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7379810647674283102.post-3011956191440382772012-07-30T12:00:00.000-07:002012-07-30T12:00:00.164-07:00My Bad WritingEvery writer has stories they wish they'd never written. Stories so silly, so ridiculous, so embarrassing that they would forever tarnish the writer's reputation if they were made public. You know deep down inside that these stories were important to your development as a writer, and maybe you have good memories of writing them, but you <i>know</i>... they're bad. They're just bad.<br />
<br />
I'm no exception. I have utterly, completely ridiculous pieces in my dark writing past. Fanfiction, poetry, original stories... I've got it all.<br />
<br />
And, in an effort to not feel quite so stupid about it, I've decided to share it with the world.<br />
<br />
Well, not all of it. Most of my bad writing has gone to the great paper shredder in the sky (i.e., my computer crashed or I stupidly deleted it, thinking I'd never want to read this crap). But I do have a great deal of it, and I thought it might be a fun blog project to share some of it and write snark-tastic reviews of my own stuff. Feel free to laugh at my ridiculousness -- I'll be joining you.<br />
<br />
Stay tuned for the first instalment, coming soon!Rebecca Christiansenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03635706076314669496noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7379810647674283102.post-59326097941643088632012-07-26T15:38:00.000-07:002012-07-26T15:38:20.879-07:00Querying frustration and perspectiveSorry for the radio silence lately. Summer is the most crazy, intense, ridiculous, busy period at my day job, so I've been feeling kind of swamped in that arena. I'm also busy reading a lot, writing a brand new WIP, and planning my trip to London (60 days until take-off!).<br />
<br />
Also I'm querying right now.<br />
<br />
This being the second manuscript I've dug deep into the query trenches with, I came into it with some preconceived notions of what the experience might be like. Last time, summer-fall of 2010 and a little of 2011, I got fewer than five form rejections in total. I got many, many full requests and quite a handful of partials. I had an R&R that was a very close call. I eventually stopped querying because I lost faith in the manuscript and it felt like a full connection was never going to happen.<br />
<br />
Fast forward to summer 2012 and a brand new manuscript that I'm absolutely in love with. Enter the gorgeous, snappy, much-fawned-over-in-QLH query letter. I've got a high-concept, super-original premise (if I do say so myself). I was expecting the same kind of reception as my last MS.<br />
<br />
But... so the opposite.<br />
<br />
Two requests out of twenty queries sent. It feels kind of like a punch in the gut.<br />
<br />
I don't want to complain, because I realize there are people who send hundreds of queries and never get a single request ever. I'm so, so grateful for any amount of success I ever get. But it just goes to show that you can't expect instant success, and sometimes that realization is tough.<br />
<br />
There are a couple things going on in my brain right now.<br />
<br />
Thing 1: "*whine* Why don't they like this one? It's sooooooo commerical and hook-y and omg, if I saw a book in a bookstore with this premise I would just, like, DIE!"<br />
<br />
Thing 2: "I should just give up and crawl into a hole right now."<br />
<br />
Thing 3: *cranks the Alanis Morrissette and sings bitter unrequited love songs to the publishing industry at large*<br />
<br />
And as embarrassing as those things are, I know they're irrational. I know everyone feels like that every once in a while, and even if I were to snag an amazing agent and book deal, I would still feel those things sometimes. In this industry, those feelings are inevitable.<br />
<br />
And after I've felt all the things and finished slapping myself for being so silly, I start to think about it rationally. Sure, maybe my first month-and-a-half of querying hasn't been mind-blowingly awesome, some awesome things have come of it.<br />
<br />
1) Four agents remembered me from my past manuscript (and one of them read only a partial almost two years ago) and were happy to hear from me and enthusiastic enough to invite me to query them again in the future.<br />
<br />
2) I've gotten replies from every query. In just a little over a month. That's amazing.<br />
<br />
3) The two agents who have requested so far are AWESOME and I'm beyond honoured that they want to read my stuff. I would be ecstatic if either of them offered rep.<br />
<br />
So, author wankfest over. I'm going to put my nose to the grindstone and keep on querying. And keep writing.<br />
<br />
Always, always keep writing.Rebecca Christiansenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03635706076314669496noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7379810647674283102.post-89254053973555351532012-07-10T16:11:00.000-07:002012-07-10T16:11:03.360-07:00Discussion: Finishing books you don't likeI've seen a lot of people on Goodreads and elsewhere mention that they have unbreakable compulsions that require them to finish every single book they start.<br />
<br />
This boggles my mind. I have no problem DNFing a book I'm not enjoying. If it's not wowing me at the halfway point, the last half probably won't wow me, either. I move on until I find something I love.<br />
<br />
How about you guys? Do you force yourself to read till "The End," even if it kills you? Or do you give up when you're feeling your eyes start to glaze over?Rebecca Christiansenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03635706076314669496noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7379810647674283102.post-7075140333136991032012-07-03T17:53:00.003-07:002012-07-03T17:53:44.421-07:00:DRemember my <a href="http://nerdgirlreadsandwrites.blogspot.ca/2012/05/review-wanderlove-by-kirsten-hubbard.html">Wanderlove review</a> where I talked about how much I yearned to travel again?<br />
<br />
Well. Guess what I booked?<br />
<br />
A ten-day trip to London with my Mommy for September!<br />
<br />
:D :D :D<br />
<br />
A big part of the reason I'm going is to research some of my work (A BRAVER THING, which I'm currently querying, and my new untitled WIP, which includes some England settings as well), and also just to satisfy my travel itch and hey, London is a cool place. Mom (a very nervous traveller) feels better about going there than going to France, where we originally wanted to go, because at least then she can speak the language.<br />
<br />
ANYWAY! I'm just so excited. You can count on a big post all about it (with many pictures!) in approximately three months ;)<br />
<br />
Now I'm off to go listen to "London Calling" on repeat...<br />
<br />
<br />Rebecca Christiansenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03635706076314669496noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7379810647674283102.post-62677196461176482432012-06-19T15:24:00.002-07:002012-06-19T15:24:42.220-07:00Review: Wentworth Hall<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1px; color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;"><a href="http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/12747188-wentworth-hall">Wentworth Hall on Goodreads</a></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1px; color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1px; color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;">Have you heard of a little show called Downton Abbey?</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1px; color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1px; color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1px; color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;">Okay, well, here's a confession: I want to marry Downton Abbey.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1px; color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1px; color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1px; color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;">Seriously. I can't think of a single TV show, past or present, that has such attention to historical and aesthetic detail, and such an engrossing, compelling story, and such fabulous characters.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1px; color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1px; color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1px; color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;">The characters are the real draw to Downton Abbey. The haughty, proud Lady Mary, heart-throbby Matthew, noble and kindly Mr. Bates, and my personal favourite, the dastardly evil Thomas... even the lesser characters are fully realized and make you care about them so much. I've actually had sleepless nights over the fates of some of these fictional people. Not even mere "oh, I wonder what's going to happen." No, by "sleepless night," I mean actual tossing, turning, and incessant worrying about whether or not they're going to be okay.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1px; color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1px; color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1px; color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;">Words can't describe, okay? Really. Truly. It beats me why I so enjoy having my heart ripped to shreds by this damn TV show, but I love it.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1px; color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1px; color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1px; color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1px; color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;">So, that's the background of Wentworth Hall. There's no beating around the bush: this book was written to piggyback off the success of Downton Abbey. I'm almost 100% sure that this book was done by a packager, and I don't know if Abby Grahame is a real person. If you look on the copyright page, this book's copyright belongs to Simon & Schuster -- copyrights always belong to the author unless it's work-for-hire, so.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1px; color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1px; color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1px; color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1px; color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;">I knew about this book and wanted to read it even before I ever watched the entire first season of Downton in two days, though. Just look at that gorgeous cover. You KNOW there's something going on between those characters, and you've just GOT to find out, don't you?</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1px; color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1px; color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1px; color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;">Here's my advice: resist. This book is nowhere CLOSE to the depth and beauty that is Downton Abbey. If Downton Abbey is the ocean, Wentworth Hall is a puddle. You could finish this book in under an hour, easily (it took me a few days but I'm busy and not a fast reader these days anyway). The dialogue is wooden. The characters, while a couple approach two dimensions, never once feel like real people. There are historical errors that even I, someone who only knows about this period and setting through Downton Abbey, could spot a mile away. The butler is called "the head butler" at one point -- um, there's only one butler per household, so the title of "head butler" does not exist. The family's last name is Darlington, and the father is referred to as Lord Darlington. But that's not the way titles work. Using Downton Abbey as an example... the Earl's family's surname is Crawley, but their title is Grantham. Therefore, they're referred to as Lord Grantham, Lady Grantham, etc. The family in Wentworth Hall has a title, but what is it? I dunno. They're always called by their last name.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1px; color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1px; color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1px; color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;">There are a couple decent twists in here, but they would mean so much more if the characters were deeper and we felt like they were real people rather than cardboard cutouts. If some of the twists were on Downton Abbey, they would have my heart pounding and they would make me gasp at the reveal. But here, my eyebrows barely raised.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1px; color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1px; color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1px; color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1px; color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;">I guess what makes me mad about this book is the sheer wasted potential. So, so much of a waste. A YA Downton Abbey, done to its full potential, would be FABULOUS. Hey, maybe I should write it...</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1px; color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1px; color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1px; color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;">The other thing that made me mad -- but also made me laugh out loud -- was the typos. There were two in particular that actually made tears come from my eyes they were so bad. I would quote them directly but I can't remember what pages and can't be bothered to check.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1px; color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1px; color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1px; color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;">1) Someone "nooded" hello to someone else.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1px; color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1px; color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1px; color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;">2) There's a discussion about a secret a certain character is keeping about who the father of a certain baby is, and one character asks, "Who is it?" and the other replies, "She's like</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1px; color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;"><strong>d</strong></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1px; color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1px; color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;">a locked safe!"</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1px; color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1px; color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1px; color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;">BAHAHAHAHAHA. Be careful of typos: because you're only one letter away from making it sound like your main character had sexual intercourse with a locked safe.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1px; color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1px; color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1px; color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;">In conclusion, I can't recommend this. Watch Downton Abbey and have your heart ripped out (in the most pleasant, perfect way)</span>Rebecca Christiansenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03635706076314669496noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7379810647674283102.post-53792004309871906492012-05-23T19:37:00.002-07:002012-05-23T19:37:44.901-07:00No more books for me!As of today, I am on a self-imposed book buying ban.<br />
<br />
That's it. No more.<br />
<br />
I sink wayyyy too much money into my every-growing TBR stack. Seriously, it's like a disease. And since the pace of my reading has slowed to a trickle during my revision stages, I'm putting a stop to this.<br />
<br />
I need to save up for England. I don't want books eating up that money. All the shiny new books I want (Second Chance Summer, In Honor, oh how I want you...) will still be around when I'm back from my trip and rolling in the cash again.<br />
<br />
Help me stay strong, dear blog readers! I'll need all the encouragement I can get!Rebecca Christiansenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03635706076314669496noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7379810647674283102.post-79046439612186926242012-05-21T15:08:00.003-07:002012-05-21T15:08:57.049-07:00Review: Wanderlove by Kirsten HubbardI won't even bother posting cover images in my reviews anymore. I'm just so lazy. I always think I should, but the thought of even trying to obtain a properly sized image and format it correctly... just makes me want to go to bed. Mentally exhausting. So my reviews from this point on will just be thoughts spewed out onto my keyboard, and if you don't like it, well, I'll link to Goodreads so you can see the pretty pictures.<br />
<br />
I read and really enjoyed Kirsten Hubbard's debut novel, Like Mandarin, so I knew she could craft a great story and a beyond-amazing setting going into Wanderlove. I anticipated that I'd like Wanderlove a lot for those reasons.<br />
<br />
And hot damn, I was right. But I didn't quite anticipate what this book would do to me.<br />
<br />
So our protagonist is Bria Sandoval. She just graduated from high school and just broke up with a controlling boyfriend who didn't deserve her at all and why the heck couldn't she see that, come on Bria, you're way too good for him and gahhhh.<br />
<br />
I effing loved Bria. I don't say this often about YA protagonists. I've been known to get hives at any inkling of angst from a Too Stupid To Live heroine, which are all too common in this little book community. Bria is the oppose of TSTL. Even when she annoyed me, like in her memories of her idiot boyfriend, she wasn't being stupid. She was being real.<br />
<br />
That's what I didn't anticipate about this book. How it would remind me of myself in so, so many different ways.<br />
<br />
This book is about traveling. Backpacking in Central America, to be precise, which is not a place I've ever dreamed of going. Hot, sticky, tropical climates and hot, sticky, dirty backroad methods of travel are definitely not my thing. But it doesn't matter, because Wanderlove really did awaken wanderlove in me.<br />
<br />
When I was fourteen, I got the chance to go to France with my French Immersion school. I leapt at the chance, got a job, and worked for a year to pay for the ten-day trip myself, no help from Mommy and Daddy. Five years ago this month, I went, had a fabulous time, and returned with my appetite whetted, ready to jet off again the next chance I got.<br />
<br />
My family isn't big on traveling. We do road trips -- I've been all over most of my province squashed in a car with my brother and sister -- but I had never even been on a plane before my France trip. The chance for me to go somewhere else hasn't come yet, even five years later. Soon. I've scraping my pennies together to go to England, but then my car broke down and I had to buy a new one and some health-related stuff happened in my family and it's been one delay after another for the past year and it's looking like maybe I can go in September. It's feeling really far away, like it might never happen.<br />
<br />
And that's what Wanderlove reminded me: that I want it so, so bad. I want to get out of here, go somewhere different, learn new things and see beauty. I was starting to forget that, in the wake of financial trouble and delays and things getting in my way. I had almost forgotten that the enormous desire to <i>just go </i>is all I really need. As long as I have that, I'll find a way.<br />
<br />
So, yeah. My review of Wanderlove is actually a ramble about my own sad little life. Ah, well. That's the mark of a good book. I was too wrapped up in what it was making me feel and what it was giving to me that nothing else mattered. It's a great story. Great writing. Kirsten's illustrations are gorgeous (although I wish there were a lot more of them), and even though Central America never really appealed to me before, I keep finding myself Googling pictures of the locales in the book and sighing, thinking "maybe, someday."<br />
<br />
In short, it's really good. You should read it. Escape inside it's pages and then work towards Bria's journey of discovery yourself, one day.Rebecca Christiansenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03635706076314669496noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7379810647674283102.post-49516225775942469812012-05-02T21:07:00.000-07:002012-05-02T21:07:00.819-07:00So this NYT article made me have feelingsAnd thoughts. So many feelings and thoughts. <br />
<div>
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Maureen Johnson wrote a great blog post about this a while back, so my own feels kind of useless, but I just can't pass up the opportunity to say some things.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
Okay. So. <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2012/04/01/us/young-writers-find-a-devoted-publisher-thanks-mom-and-dad.html?_r=3&adxnnl=1&src=tp&adxnnlx=1333753269-Rstojm8L+3PJj8berfj2Yg">This is the article.</a> You should read it; I promise it's interesting.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
...</div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
...did you read it?</div>
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<br /></div>
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Okay, well, I was a child who wrote novels. I was thirteen when I wrote my first one, and I did that thing the whole publishing industry is kind of figuring out right now -- I wrote a fanfiction and then switched the names and called it original fiction. I laugh about it now, but at the time I was proud as fucking punch and dead set on getting it published.<br />
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But I didn't.<br />
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Thank GOD I didn't. I don't have any of the novel anymore, and I wish I did because it was so awful it would be great for comedic value, but it was bad. Seriously, seriously bad. And luckily, not too long after I wrote it, I realized that. I put it away and started something else.<br />
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Rinse and repeat. I wrote a novel. I'd look at it again, decide it wasn't going anywhere, start something new.<br />
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Until I was eighteen, I never queried. And I'm so glad I didn't. I saved myself a lot of angst.<br />
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I also didn't self-publish.<br />
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And I'm infinitely glad I didn't self-publish.<br />
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If I, or my parents, had decided to self-publish my first awful novel, I doubt I would be the writer I am today. Sure, maybe I would have been proud and excited and felt like a rockstar for a couple weeks, but right now I would be pretty damn mortified. </div>
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I probably wouldn't have continued writing.<br />
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When you take an unfinished product -- it feels awful, calling a kid's first novel a 'product' -- and you put it into "real book" form, you're validating it. You're putting it on a pedestal and calling it an achievement. Of course, finishing a novel is an achievement at any age. But it's not just about finishing a novel. It's about the journey, and this phenomenon of parents paying to self-publish their kids' books cuts that journey off. It moves the end point up and deprives the young writer of all the growth they could gain.<br />
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Publication is the end point for a lot of writers' journeys. Outside validation of our work -- it's what we're all in pursuit of. But if you take Little Timmy's book and say "yes, Timmy, good job, you are truly an accomplished novelist," Timmy is just going to feel good about himself for a few seconds and move on.<br />
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He's not going to have anything else to work for. He's going to feel like he's been there, accomplished that. He's not going to grow as a writer.<br />
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I understand why parents would want to reward their children. I understand why parents do this. But I can't help but think it's too much. It's coddling, and it's not going to be good for the kids in the long run. </div>Rebecca Christiansenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03635706076314669496noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7379810647674283102.post-17487941154041271152012-05-01T20:55:00.000-07:002012-05-01T20:55:06.987-07:00Random update & a music recWhoa, Blogger... change everything since my last post, why don't you... so confused. I hate when websites change their looks/interfaces/almost everything. It's so disorienting. It makes me feel like an ancient thing.<br />
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Anyway. I have a few reviews in the pipeline, and a few post ideas, so I guess stay tuned for those. Mostly I'm just working a lot (got this promotion at work back in January and still kind of adjusting to it) and writing a bit. Working on a first draft again. That's weird.<br />
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I mentioned it in a post a little while ago, but this new book is a big departure for me. Well, not really, since it's still YA, but this one has a magical realism twist similar to Before I Fall by Lauren Oliver. If I had to pick two things to compare it to, I'd say it's like Francesca Lia Block wrote a mash-up of <i>Before I Fall</i> and <i>It's A Wonderful Life</i>. I love it so far, but it's a challenge. It's kind of coming out slow, which I have to remind myself is okay.<br />
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Aside from writing, Kate Miller-Heidke is ruling my life these days. I discovered her last album about a year and a half ago, and her new album, Nightflight, just came out and <i>it is frickin' amazing, guys</i>. It's the first album in a while I've been able to immerse myself in completely. It just... works. As an album, as a story, as an experience, it all just comes together. I love that, when an album is an <i>album</i>, a cohesive whole.<br />
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Anyway, I'm going to stop rambling and leave you with the title track from Kate Miller-Heidke's new album :) see you soon.<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/WuWKJTd_MPA" width="560"></iframe>Rebecca Christiansenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03635706076314669496noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7379810647674283102.post-46282710453862869532012-04-22T20:50:00.002-07:002012-04-22T20:57:37.073-07:00Getting it wrong the first timeSo you're writing your new WIP. The first draft is going great. You're loving your characters, you're making your own head spin with the sheer awesomeness of your plot... and then you get to the end. And you heave a big sigh and congratulate yourself. <div><br /></div><div>And then, sometime later -- whether that day, or that week, or whenever you pull your manuscript out and kickstart your revisions -- you realize you got. It. All. Wrong.</div><div><br /></div><div>ALL OF IT.</div><div><br /></div><div>You completely misunderstood your own intentions with this novel. Your plot zigged when it clearly should have zagged. Your MC's best friend randomly acts like a douche when that's the complete opposite of how they should be acting.</div><div><br /></div><div>You ask yourself, "How the bloody hell did I not notice how wrong this all is?!"</div><div><br /></div><div>I do this almost every single book I write. First drafts, as they say, really are shit. My first drafts always get it wrong. My character arcs are so muddled and confused and when I start revising, I almost laugh at how wonky everything is. </div><div><br /></div><div>Revisions, to me, are really re-visions. Focusing all the messiness from my first-draft delirium. Fine-tuning all the slightly-off characters. Sometimes rewriting entire plots after they make absolutely zero sense.</div><div><br /></div><div>My current WIP only shares about 20% of the content from the original draft I wrote back in August. At first, it was just a book about a boy who falls in love with the prince. It was cute and stuff, but it was lacking immediacy. Lacking danger. No stakes.</div><div><br /></div><div>In my revision, I killed off the prince's dad and suddenly, my male MC's male love interest was the frigging <i>king</i>. Um, hello stakes! </div><div><br /></div><div>I had the story so completely wrong. I don't even know what I was thinking, back in August. </div><div><br /></div><div>Whoever said that writerly cliché -- "Writing is rewriting" -- they were so right. </div>Rebecca Christiansenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03635706076314669496noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7379810647674283102.post-22917261357011399292012-04-20T16:54:00.002-07:002012-04-20T17:15:58.295-07:00Pointless Rant: YA Love InterestsWhen I was typing that title, at first I typed Pantless Rants. Let me assure you, I am most definitely wearing pants. <div><br /></div><div>So, ahem.</div><div><br /></div><div>YA love interests. </div><div><br /></div><div>If you know me in real life (I think that's maybe one of you) or, more likely, you've encountered me on Goodreads or AW, you might've heard a tiny complaint or two from me about YA love interests (hereby referred to as LIs).</div><div><br /></div><div>I feel like my feelings on the matter have to bubble over into a big ranty blog post. </div><div><br /></div><div>Let's face it: most YA novels have romance. Because most teen girls love it or at least like it, and the YA readership is almost entirely made up of girls. I love YA novels that focus on things besides romance, but I do love me a good romance, too.</div><div><br /></div><div>Heard my unrelenting, unabashedly loud declarations of love for Anna and the French Kiss yet? *cough*</div><div><br /></div><div>But lately, in reading YA romances, I've been getting feelings of déjà vue. I see the same LI over and over and over again and I'm like, "I've vue-d this, déjà."</div><div><br /></div><div>Tall. Dark. Smirking. Smart-aleky. Pouty-lipped. Dreamy-eyed. Mysterious past. Probably the desire of every other girl in the school, but only has eyes for our MC. </div><div><br /></div><div>SEEN IT. </div><div><br /></div><div>I'm seriously getting sick of this. </div><div><br /></div><div>When you were in high school, or if you are currently in high school... if you've ever had a crush on a teenage boy yourself... have you ever seen one like this? And if you have, and if you're the bookish, quiet girl all these MCs seem to be, did he only ever have eyes for you?</div><div><br /></div><div>No. Those boys? They're usually douchebags. </div><div><br /></div><div>Bad boys are sort of delicious. I mean, who doesn't swoon a little at the defiance of authority? I've been known to, occasionally. But... in real life, those guys our nerdy little MC girls fall for, they're bad news. I've fallen for them. They will break your heart and then hook up with their bad girl counterparts, who then proceed to mock you every day at school. </div><div><br /></div><div>Can we please get some realistic guys in YA? Please?</div><div><br /></div><div>Why can't the swoon-factor come from a guy's freckles instead of his biceps or abs? Why can't the moment of falling in love come from Mr Average giving you his last Tic Tac instead of gazing into smouldering eyes in a model-like pouty face?</div><div><br /></div><div>Y'know that saying "nice guys finish last"? Why don't we change that? Why don't mean, badass, unattainably distant guys who ignore girls finish last, and harmlessly sweet funny guys start finishing first?</div><div><br /></div><div>And I'm not going to ignore the other side of the coin here. As far as female LIs go, we've got the Manic Pixie Dream Girl. Instead of being cold and distant, our MPDG is warm and welcoming and kind of too forward and on the surface, she seems a little crazy. She probably harbours some dark secrets, just like the male LI, but on the surface she's gleeful and adventurous and quirky beyond belief.</div><div><br /></div><div>I've been the MPDG. I showed a little bit of personality around a certain guy, and he latched onto me. Seemed to think the world of me. It made me feel a little drunk at first. I unleashed every crazy impulse I'd ever had. We stayed out all night, drove to every school playground in the town and sat on swings and talked about life. Then we drove to the top of a waterfall and threw rocks two hundred feet down and talked about even more deep stuff. I felt like the coolest person ever.</div><div><br /></div><div>But I wasn't being myself. I was being the person he thought I was. I dressed my personality up to impress him. And he got bored. And we both got hurt when the relationship burned out after two weeks.</div><div><br /></div><div>One MPDG character is original, but when she becomes this character type, it becomes too easy to fit people into that box. Same with Mr Douchebag LI. They become tropes, cardboard cutouts with no real personality. And when they start to crop up all over the place, it's a symptom of laziness.</div><div><br /></div><div>I try every day not to be a lazy writer. If I catch myself writing what's easy -- turning a character into a recognizable "type" -- I stop. I look at what I've done. And I turn it on its head. </div><div><br /></div><div>I want a character. Not a character type. </div>Rebecca Christiansenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03635706076314669496noreply@blogger.com5