One Sparkling Star

Hourglass by Myra McEntire

sfriverfork@aol.com (Sam) — Sat, 26 Mar 2011 23:55:00 +0000

Release Date: June 11, 2011 (Sorry, guys...)
Amazon Says:

For seventeen-year-old Emerson Cole, life is about seeing what isn't there; swooning Southern Belles; soldiers long forgotten; a haunting jazz trio that vanishes in an instant. Plagued by phantoms since her parents’ death, she just wants the apparitions to stop so she can be normal. She's tried everything, but the visions keep coming back.

So when her well-meaning brother brings in a consultant from a secretive organization called the Hourglass, Emerson's willing to try one last cure. But meeting Michael Weaver may not only change her future, it may change her past.

Who is this dark, mysterious, sympathetic guy, barely older than Emerson herself, who seems to believe every crazy word she says? Why does an electric charge seem to run through the room whenever he's around? And why is he so insistent that he needs her help to prevent a death that never should have happened?

Full of atmosphere, mystery, and romance, Hourglass merges the very best of the paranormal and science-fiction genres in a seductive, remarkable young adult debut.

I say:
Guys, I have a confession. I pretty much want to be Myra McEntire.
She helped to found Do The Write Thing For Nashville. She has one of my favorite blogs. She put up an amazing post when Speak was banned. She even did an interview with me, late last year. When my awesome librarian asked for requests from ALA, I asked for Hourglass. (It wasn't out yet. However, Sarah is magic and got it somehow anyway. Moment of Sarah love entered here.)
So I wanted to like this book, and I was scared to read this book, because I didn't want to be disappointed.
Yeah.
Well.
I brought it to school. By second hour, my teacher had to pretty much take the book away. (It was math. Who needs math when you have fantastic books?)
And Hourglass is literally fantastic. It's full of sparkles (seriously, the cover is going to sparkle) and has magic and science and ~~yumminess~~ boys and I am going to marry it.
It's paranormal without being truly paranormal. It's the first 'magic' book I've read in a while that felt new.
It's got a boy that I really, really liked. Actually, it had two boys that I really, really liked -- but I also really liked that Emerson, the MC, was pretty dang solid in which one she wanted. It made me like her that much more.
Plus, Hourglass surprised me. The novel isn't predictable; in fact, several times I sat there blinking and going 'Wait, whaaaaat?' (Which, seriously, dude -- it's an attractive face to pull in the middle of a crowded classroom.)
I love her family. It was a real unit, a family that had problems and issues and still managed to be one that you'd be happy to join. I cracked up through the entire book. I liked how the reader gets to watch Emerson grow. That said, I enjoyed how flawed Emerson is; she was easy to relate to. She has a great best friend. And the connotations that are set up for Book Two? Yeah, I'm excited.
I liked how I was reminded of A Wrinkle In Time but at the same time, felt like I was reading something totally new.
Basically, I just loved it. I handed it over to my mother, and plan on going to rant at my librarian about how much I liked it, and probably am going to send Maggie a long rambly email later about it. It didn't just live up to my expectations; it exceeded them in the best way.
Anyway. This is turning into a love letter, and I am resolutely against love letters. Unless they are written to me from very pretty boys, and even then, they'd better be more articulate than I usually am.
More later, folks!

Coming up

sfriverfork@aol.com (Sam) — Mon, 21 Mar 2011 08:06:00 +0000

Okay, so it's spring break. This means barbecues, and trips to the park, and lots and lots of movies. It also means that I have become nocturnal and have spent several hours online. Beyond finding these --

--and realizing that Cinderella is showing at a local theater this summer (ZOMG I want to go so baddddd!!) I've also spent way too much time on Amazon. So, this is me, sharing me list of upcoming loves.

First up.

I love this cover. So much. Like, I know nothing about this book. The cover, plus the author, have me sold.

Plus this. It looks all stalkerly and awesome.

And this, because I love these books so much.

This too. Jace is my eternal love.

And finally, this. Holy crap. I want my cover to look like this someday. It's so freaking beautiful.

Okay, that's it for now. Well. It's like, half of the books I want, but I also realize that I have a tendency to ramble forever, and so I'm being nice. See? Manners!

....Yeah. I know.

Anyway. I'll have a review up later. Until then, ciao! Stay awesome.

Help for Japan

sfriverfork@aol.com (Sam) — Sat, 19 Mar 2011 06:51:00 +0000

Everyone knows what happened in Japan. It’s been a week. A week of hell for that country, a week of fear for the world, a week of misery for those people affected.

When it comes down to it, Japan needs our help. Our hopes, our prayers, our wishes — heck, even just our time.

Every little bit we do helps. Here — http://write-hope.blogspot.com/ — a bunch of authors have gotten together to hold an auction, trying to help Japan. Not only does this stuff end up being really, really cool, but it’s for such a good cause.

I have a friend who lives in Japan. She's been talking about it on facebook. It's scary, she says. Terrible and horrid, and as if the world is ending. I ... can't even imagine.

The pain in the world is real. It’s more real than our petty drama or slight injustices. Than any boy drama or high school nuance or really, anything that most of us face. And anything we can do can make the real pain easier to deal with, even if it's not much. Heck -- we can't do anything much. But there's strength in solidarity. Strength in banding together.

And anything helps.

More later.

Lessons Learned

sfriverfork@aol.com (Sam) — Thu, 17 Mar 2011 06:56:00 +0000

Things I've learned this year:

We can't force people to be who we want them to be. We can push and prod them into the vision we've had, the idea we've conceived, but that won't them make them the ideal. We'll just be disappointed when we realize that we've been clinging to a dream.

Dating is messy. Enough said.

I shake when I'm mad. Seriously. I physically shake. I had to pull over the car at one point. Poor Maggie can attest to that. I made her sit in the parking lot of an ice cream parlor for literally an hour, blasted the heat, and had to be talked down before I could drive again.

I have awesome friends. Dude. I had no idea how awesome they all were. I had no idea how much my team -- yes, I am a debate nerd, whatever -- means to me, and how much they can be there for me. How much I fit with the people I love. It's kind of cool.

Ice cream cannot solve everything. However, writing is like, the best therapy ever.

People are way crazier than I thought. And they aren't all like me. I based what people would do off of what I would do, and then was shocked when they did something different. When sometimes, they did scummy stuff. It's interesting. I'm not perfect, but I'm relatively grounded. It's freaky how many people really, really aren't.

When something is poison, it's always going to be poison. And pretending it might turn into nectar or gold or hell, even diet coke, is just naive.

Someone called me whimsical today. It's funny, though. I'm really not. I talk about pandas and monkeys and sparkles, but I'm fully aware of the hurt in the world. I didn't win districts by giving speeches about sequins. I think it's just about learning to cope and moving on; dwelling on the pain is just gonna make more darkness.

Books get a lot of things right. I just didn't realize how real a lot of emotions are.

But more than anything?

There's always light at the end of the tunnel. There's always green grass and shiny skies, and there's always sparkles in the future. Life is what we make it. We can't be happy unless we move on. We can't move on unless we keep our eyes on what's in front of us, and not stuck on all the crap that we've been trenched in. Sometimes we just have to be -- well, whimsical. Jump around, listen to music, dream about tomorrow.

Closing doors opens windows. It forges new hallways and busts down walls that had been so long, we'd just grown used to the fact that they were blocking off new worlds. Worlds that are just as good and maybe better than the ones we live in.

Someday, the crap that has been this year will be a great book. And until then, it's made me stronger. It's hurt and it's sucked, but it's over -- I'm making it be over. And I'm going to relish Nationals in debate, relish writing, reading, relish my library and my friends and all of the great, great things in my life. I'm worth more than how I've been feeling. How I've let myself be treated. But the only way to write great books, I guess, is to live a little bit of crap.
So.

More later. Promise, it won't be gushy or personal. I just kinda felt like putting this out there would make it more real. Basically, you are my bouncing board. Be proud. :P
What about you? Adversity teaches us things. What have you learned?

Full Steam Ahead

sfriverfork@aol.com (Sam) — Sun, 13 Mar 2011 20:09:00 +0000

Well, debate isn't over. I just qualified to Nationals.

That's a pretty accurate representation of how I felt -- for about, oh, an hour. And then the feeling of doom hit.

There's stupid drama going on, because it's high school. My grades are not as good as normal. Nationals is going to be way hard. And all of a sudden, my mood dropped.
But I just got something I've wanted for two years, and something I've tried really, really hard for. So, I vote screw Chemistry and move past the drama, and go pet the pretty trophy.
It happens with writing, too. You work really hard; sometimes, you finish a novel, or you write a difficult scene, and it still doesn't feel good enough. We forget how hard we've worked and get too caught up in what's coming next -- until, well, we don't actually enjoy what we just achieved.
And gosh dangit, I am not doing that this time. I've worked way, way too hard to let anything poison the sparkly thing sitting in my kitchen, or the fact that I get to go to Dallas this summer with my team. And you've worked way too hard on your novel to get caught up in dreading writing the sequel -- or really, however this applies to you.
Full steam ahead. But only after we lolly-gag awhile and relish what we've done. Otherwise, what's the point?

I wanted a picture of a steam engine, but this is the Hogwarts Express. Really, I don't care that it doesn't fit perfectly. Life always needs more Harry Potter.

Anyway. Rant done. I'm going to go play with one of my stories now -- or I could -- WAIT HOLY CRAP. I'm on spring break.

I can actually read!
More later. If I ever get my nose out of the stack of books that Chem has been stealing away.

Happy Day

sfriverfork@aol.com (Sam) — Tue, 08 Mar 2011 17:16:00 +0000

Several reasons:
First, Playing Hurt comes out today! Holly did an interview here with me, and you can pre-order Playing Hurt here.

I can't wait to read it.

Also, debate is over as of this weekend. I have national qualifiers, and then I am DONE for the year. Well, unless I make nationals. My partner and I got fourth at State Qualifiers...Yeah, third qualified.

-_- But happy day, because hey, still hope for Nats.

Happy day because things are good with friends and me and boys and books -- YAY BOOKS, YAY SPRING BREAK. The two are directly related. I have not read nearly enough lately, except for Great Gatsby. And yeah, happy, because I'm actually enjoying that.

Also, this is coming out.

I love these books with somewhat pathetic passion. Just saying.

Anyway. Enough happy for now. More happy later. MWAH.

Review of Amy and Roger's Epic Detour

sfriverfork@aol.com (Sam) — Fri, 25 Feb 2011 01:12:00 +0000

Good Reads Says:

Amy Curry thinks her life sucks. Her mom decides to move from California to Connecticut to start anew—just in time for Amy's senior year. Her dad recently died in a car accident. So Amy embarks on a road trip to escape from it all, driving cross-country from the home she's always known toward her new life. Joining Amy on the road trip is Roger, the son of Amy's mother's old friend. Amy hasn’t seen him in years, and she is less than thrilled to be driving across the country with a guy she barely knows. So she's surprised to find that she is developing a crush on him. At the same time, she’s coming to terms with her father’s death and how to put her own life back together after the accident. Told in traditional narrative as well as scraps from the road—diner napkins, motel receipts, postcards—this is the story of one girl's journey to find herself.

I Say:

Maggie gave me this book to read forever ago, and I've yet to give it back. I need to. I also need to buy my own copy. Because, seriously, guys? This book meets the title. It's totally epic.

I don't use the words 'delightful' or 'freshing' very often. They seem old to me. However, they both apply to this book in the best way. It's sad at times, but ultimately, uplifts the reader. It's fun and goofy and has great music suggestions. Also, I love that it starts in California and goes through Missouri. It talks about In-and-Out burger in California and Sonic in Missouri, and the weird way that some people call Missouri 'Mi-zur-a' and has cool tidbits about tons of states.
The characters are great. Seriously. They're people you could meet any day, anywhere. I am also kind of in love with Roger. I'm actually kind of in love with Amy, too; she's strong and funny and ultimately, the kind of person I want to be.
This is a perfect spring break read, or a perfect holy-crap-why-won't-my-chem-homework-die book. I highly suggest it.
More later.

Holly Schindler Guest post!

sfriverfork@aol.com (Sam) — Wed, 23 Feb 2011 14:33:00 +0000

Guys, I know an author. Yeah. Be jealous. Her name is Holly Schindler. She's awesome and wrote an awesome book, AND she lives near me. Missouri is awesome like that.
Holly did an interview with me last year and wrote A Blue So Dark, which was reviewed here. Her new book is coming out March 8, and I am kind of insanely bouncy and hyper active waiting for it.
Seriously. You have no idea. One of my best friends read Blue and ended up calling me at 2 in the morning to inform me that she wanted to marry the novel. Playing Hurt is described below.

Star basketball player Chelsea “Nitro” Keyes had the promise of a full ride to college—and everyone’s admiration in her hometown. But everything changed senior year, when she took ahorrible fall during a game. Now a metal plate holds her together and she feels like a stranger in her own family.

As a graduation present, Chelsea ’s dad springs for a three-week summer “boot camp” program at a northern Minnesota lake resort. There, she’s immediately drawn to her trainer, Clint, a nineteen-year-old ex-hockey player who’s haunted by his own traumatic past. As they grow close, Chelsea is torn between her feelings for Clint and her loyalty to her devoted boyfriend back home. Will an unexpected romance just end up causing Chelsea and Clint more pain—or finally heal their heartbreak?

Seriously. Doesn't it sound good?

And, without further ado, Holly, talking about something very close to my own heart!

HOW THE OZARKS INSPIRE MY WRITING

Did you ever try to study in a section of your school that’s really high traffic? Say, maybe a student convocation center? The kind of place where you feel completely self-conscious? Or did you ever grab a chair in the library in order to catch up on those last few chapters of Bio reading, at the same time hoping you’d accidentally “bump into” your crush, who just happens to work in the library after school? Ever try to do your math homework on the bus, while dreading the fact that you’re going home because you had a horrendous fight with your parents or sibling over breakfast that morning?

Yeah. Doesn’t work, does it? If your mind is occupied, the words in the textbook in front of you blur, don’t they?

Let me ask you something else: Have you ever tried to write a term paper in a room without any heat? Have you ever tried to read a novel for English sitting in the rain? Have you ever tried doing a science experiment wearing a lab coat so small that it cinched you in like a corset, and you couldn’t breathe?

Now you’re shaking your head. “That’s dumb,” you’re saying. “I’d never try to do that.”

And the reason you’d never try it is because it’d be impossible. Nobody can work when they’re uncomfortable. Nobody.

Writing’s a lot like schoolwork, in that it takes an inordinate amount of mental alertness and focus. And with any mental task, you have to be comfortable to be productive. Period.

Comfort, in my book, can be either physical or mental. The physical stuff’s fairly easy to remedy, most times. Too cold? Put on another pair of socks. Hungry? Grab a granola bar. The mental comfort is a bit trickier to obtain. Going back to my original examples, when your mindis elsewhere—on what others might think of you, or your crush, or a previous fight—you can’t focus on the task at hand. If you’re plagued by chronic worries, you’re not comfortable—and worry really isn’t something you can just turn off.

But for me, the Ozarks really are comfortable. The Ozarks give me peace of mind and peace of being…Stuff you can’t easily obtain just anywhere. Springfield ’s like that old pair of favorite jeans you always gravitate toward. My mind is quiet here, so I get to work full-bore…and that’s why, for me, the Ozarks can be such a fantastic place to write in.

--Sam again! I know. I'm boring. Sadness.
But anyway, Holly is so right. The Ozarks are amazing and beautiful--and comfortable. Holly put together a video about the Ozarks, which is below. So, basically, you can see what my home looks like.

And because Holly is increasingly awesome, she's holding a contest. Local Missouri bloggers are posting about Playing Hurt -- me, Maggie, Sarah, and Another Book Junkie --and whoever gets the most comments receives a copy of Playing Hurt. So comment away! The entry form thinger-ma-bob is here.
More later, guys. And go buy A Blue So Dark/pre-order Playing Hurt. You will not regret it.

Where is it?

sfriverfork@aol.com (Sam) — Fri, 18 Feb 2011 01:53:00 +0000

Monkeys and pandas and sparkles, oh my! This month has presented flowers and candy and books and way too much debate and not enough writing -- but also pretty trophies, which makes the world sparklier. Also, here. Have a monkey.

And now that I've shown off pictures of animals, let's talk about hunting. No, not the fluffy. Hunting for time.

Time management is something that, while imperative, doesn't just happen. My way of dealing? Avoid chemistry homework and go to the library -- go to the library, A LOT. More studying happens there. That said, I'm still not writing as much as I'd like to; I'm getting some, but too often this seems to happen.

Except, well, when I fall asleep outside, I end up covered in nasty ugly bug bites. And my messy hair isn't nearly that cute.

So what do you do for time? Any hints on hunting it down? Or perhaps some hair care advice? I would love either.

More later. Promise!

Snowpocalypse

sfriverfork@aol.com (Sam) — Thu, 03 Feb 2011 04:18:00 +0000

Guys.
I was born in California. I was raised in the desert.
I was not made ready for a foot of snow.

I used to have a car.
Now I have a block of ice and snow.
I used to have -- well, no, I haven't had sanity in a long time. But I used to at least be able to keep myself amused for more than ten seconds. Snow has destroyed this. I just keep looking outside and thinking 'Oh, you suck.'
Though, actually, everything is sparkly, which is slightly awesome.
However, on the upside, I've been able to read. For instance, this book?

Dude. Very good. There's this weird, epic quality about it. And there was a moment at the end that totally gave me goosebumps. Also, they have snow. Lots of it. And they lived.
Well. Some of them.
^_^

Also, I am now obsessed by Big Bang Theory.

Because, really. Smart is always sexy. Just ask my debate team.

...Oh, holy monkeys. Bad example. Let's look at this instead.

ZOMG, look, SNOW!

Meh. More later. If the snow hasn't swallowed me.

Life is Good

sfriverfork@aol.com (Sam) — Mon, 31 Jan 2011 00:18:00 +0000

So, after one of the best weekends of the year, here I am to blog. Mostly, though, because I wanted to post this.

Myra McEntire got her cover! -claps- I did an interview with Ms. McEntire here, and she's kind of awesomely wonderful, guys. I'm totally loving on the cover, too, and my excitement to read Hourglass is crazy, y'all.

I have math homework, however, so a longer blog post will have to wait. However, I got trophy this weekend, so that has kind of made me bouncy and crazy-happy (it was HARD. I like winning when it was hard to do.) Maybe the happy will rub off on the math homework.

(Probably not....)

Well, wish me luck.

Review of Divergent, by Veronica Roth

sfriverfork@aol.com (Sam) — Wed, 19 Jan 2011 01:55:00 +0000

Release Date: May 3, 2011. (HEY! It's my birthday!)

Amazon Says:

In Beatrice Prior’s dystopian Chicago world, society is divided into five factions, each dedicated to the cultivation of a particular virtue—Candor (the honest), Abnegation (the selfless), Dauntless (the brave), Amity (the peaceful), and Erudite (the intelligent). On an appointed day of every year, all sixteen-year-olds must select the faction to which they will devote the rest of their lives. For Beatrice, the decision is between staying with her family and being who she really is—she can’t have both. So she makes a choice that surprises everyone, including herself.

During the highly competitive initiation that follows, Beatrice renames herself Tris and struggles alongside her fellow initiates to live out the choice they have made. Together they must undergo extreme physical tests of endurance and intense psychological simulations, some with devastating consequences. As initiation transforms them all, Tris must determine who her friends really are—and where, exactly, a romance with a sometimes fascinating, sometimes exasperating boy fits into the life she's chosen. But Tris also has a secret, one she's kept hidden from everyone because she's been warned it can mean death. And as she discovers unrest and growing conflict that threaten to unravel her seemingly perfect society, she also learns that her secret might help her save those she loves . . . or it might destroy her.

I Say:

XANJLURFDONASLJKNCDMAPOSNGLOJA:ISOLJSAGFNOL.

YOU GUYS.

Get your hands on this book. Pet it. Worship it. Do NOT under any circumstances take it to school, because you will NOT do your work. I literally read the first chapter and forced myself to leave it home from a debate tournament. It is THAT good.

Beatrice's world has been split into factions. There are the selfless people, the happy people, the truthful, the knowledge seeking, and there are the courageous. (They're called differently in the book -- Amity, Dauntless, Candor, such and such.) Beatrice has been raised to be selfless. However, she's 16 now. She's 16, and it's time to choose what she will be for the rest of her life.

One choice. One life. The rest of her world is on this one choice.

And the choice she makes? Yeah, it turns into one heck of a book.

I can't really say that much about this book without giving away too many awesome bits and pieces. But there is so much excitement. There is ROMANCE. And dude, it's a good one. It's a great one. There is familial drama, and political intrigue, and moments of breath-taking danger.

Guys, I haven't wanted a sequel so badly since I first read Hunger Games.

You LIKE Beatrice. She's such a good character, because she's flawed, but you still really, really like her. She might be one of my favorite characters of all time. Her supporting cast is full and realistic, and -- just AGH. The guy, the guy, the guy! I love him so. And I can't say who it is.

-_-

Bottom line.

Read this book.

Read it as soon as possible.

I promise, it will DEFINITELY be worth it.

And onward we go

sfriverfork@aol.com (Sam) — Sun, 09 Jan 2011 02:11:00 +0000

So, we are officially a week into the New Year of 2011, and so far, things seem to basically be the same. Good books, too much debate, not enough sparkles, dramatic high school moments that will totally be a book someday, and waaaaaay too much math.

(Seriously. This math stuff needs to stop.)

Anyway. With the new year, new worlds are supposed to open. We're supposed to be new people, shinier, sparklier, smarter. So far, I haven't seen it. But hey, 2010 was kind of awesome. I got Top Five on inkpop, got to meet so many cool people through this blog, got my driver's licence (which, um, is kind of a miracle) and realized my true love for coffee. All in all, a win.

I am not a resolution kind of person. I go into debate tournaments planning on failing miserably. That way, when I walk out with a trophy, I've been happily surprised. That way, when I crash and burn, I can joke about it without hurting my pride too badly. (Hey, I'm 16. Pride is important to me.) (Well. Kind of . . . Actually, not really.)

I like being surprised. I never would have guessed that 2010 would have had so many weird, awful, wonderful turns and twists. It makes sense, I guess -- a good story isn't predictable, so why would life be any different?

So, a week into 2011, I have finally figured that the only real resolution I have is to keep having fun. Even through the crappy moments, the bad boy stuff, the dramatic friend moments, the writing lows, and the reading slumps, I loved this last year. I plan on liking this next one, too. Heck -- in 2012, I'm done with high school, so I'd better enjoy my last year of free education and cliched moments while I can.

However, I might possibly do more of my math homework this year.

(Probably not, though.)

What about you all? Resolutions? Anit-resolutions? Thoughts on last year, next year? A mutual hatred of that evil thing called math?
Also. As my farewell gift to 2010, a few things that seem to illustrate my blog posts of the last year:

Cute furry thing. Cute shirtless thing. Sparkly pretty thing.
-ponders-
Yup. That pretty much says it all.

More later.

Wither by Lauren DeStefano

sfriverfork@aol.com (Sam) — Tue, 04 Jan 2011 04:28:00 +0000

Release Date: March 22 2011

Amazon Says:
What if you knew exactly when you would die?

Thanks to modern science, every human being has become a ticking genetic time bomb—males only live to age twenty-five, and females only live to age twenty. In this bleak landscape, young girls are kidnapped and forced into polygamous marriages to keep the population from dying out.

When sixteen-year-old Rhine Ellery is taken by the Gatherers to become a bride, she enters a world of wealth and privilege. Despite her husband Linden's genuine love for her, and a tenuous trust among her sister wives, Rhine has one purpose: to escape—to find her twin brother and go home.

But Rhine has more to contend with than losing her freedom. Linden's eccentric father is bent on finding an antidote to the genetic virus that is getting closer to taking his son, even if it means collecting corpses in order to test his experiments. With the help of Gabriel, a servant Rhine is growing dangerously attracted to, Rhine attempts to break free, in the limted time she has left.

I say:
This story is interesting. Creepy, freaky, and waaaaay interesting.

It's one of the most inventive worlds I've seen, and one of the best well crafted. I've seen a lot of people comparing this to The Handmaid's Tale (which, admittable enough, I haven't read -- it was in my Christmas pile, though, so it's coming) but honestly, I think that there was enough variety that it keeps the story fresh. The tiny details are everywhere; the similarities to the modern day is eerie. Every once in a while it seemed as if maybe the story was a tad predictable, but there were enough loops and turns that it keeps the pages turning. I picked the book up, was forced to go do stuff, and had to keep myself from sneaking it underneath the table at lunch. (These are the kind of books that got me a B in math. Gah.)

The story is part of a trilogy but stands on its own. And dude, that is enough to gain it serious points. Wither tells a complete story, but it is obviously part of a larger picture. The suspense and confusion builds through the entire story, and is barely brushed by the end; it's enough to make the reader want more. I did have a slight issue with how easily some of the end problems seemed resolved, but I'm banking on the fact that this will be addressed later.

The characters, however, are what make this book shine. You hate them. You love them. You admire them, you cry for them, you want to smack them. Seriously. They are real people. Not a single one is simple, and it makes this book incredibly interesting. The main character, Rhine, is incredibly complex -- she's an orphan who has been living a kind of miserable existence, but when dropped in a world of luxury, she is still horrified. And it makes sense. You even feel something for her captors -- it's confusing and odd, but so real that it's almost kinda freaky. Even Rhine's brother, who isn't a predominant character in much of the story, is someone that you grow to care about, just because Rhine herself loves him so much.

The story is great debut. It's beautifully written (and oddly enough, just kind of beautiful; seriously, the detailing inside the book is great) and I'll most definitely be picking up the sequel. Props to Ms. DeStefano for keeping me totally enthralled.

More later, guys. I hope you're all still whole and healthy after New Years. (And if not, well, I'm sure it was worth it. :P )

Pick Up Your Ninja Stars and Fight (or not)

sfriverfork@aol.com (Sam) — Wed, 29 Dec 2010 01:17:00 +0000

Hey, all! How are you today? Were your holidays fantastic? -waits patiently for answer- Oh, good. That's very good -- except for those that weren't. And for you, I suggest cookies. Or Starburst. Either will work wonders, I promise.
So. Christmas is over. Target is no longer a place where you might lose appendages to rabid shoppers, and there will be no more obnoxious music being blasted on the radio. (Well. No more seasonal obnoxious music, at least.) But the stories of Christmas stay around, right? The heart warming ones -- the ones that you hear in school, or occasionally on the television (when the news isn't telling us how we're all going to die, that is) or the ones you just see. This is the time of year that good things happen. That brave and strong people are highlighted in stories.
Which leads to this thought -- why don't we always highlight brave and strong? Why does it take a Christmas story?
And--what is brave? And what is strong?
In movies, it's easy to identify. Look for the red eyes. The covert-behind-the-heroine's-back nod at the not-so-clean-ally. You'll have found the bad guy.
(Most of the time. Sometimes, it could look like this, and then end up way confusing, and we all die a little on the inside.)

But think about books. And think about life. Brave is hard to identify sometimes. We can see cowards without skipping a beat -- the boy who picks the easy way out, the girl who lets herself fall apart without fighting and is too scared to stand on her own, the people who put themselves before everyone, even children, -- but seeing heroes can be harder. The boy who chose to be on his own instead of hurting the people he cares about, the girl who fights for herself, the people who give up their time and energy to take care of children -- are they brave?
I think so.
But we overlook just how brave, and just important, those moments of courage are. We admire them, but defining them as anything more than temporarily admirable is kind of rare. And figuring out brave?
Yeah. Not easy.
Very few of us look at our life and can say that we've always been courageous. That we've always fought for something, some idea, some moral, or some prospect. The only way to get stronger is to fight, but we don't always do it. It's certainly easier not to. But if we read a book a that the character didn't fight, didn't try to be their best, would we keep reading?
Probably not. I mean, we don't like cowards, right? And if someone isn't always brave, then they are indeed a coward. Right? (-insert sarcasm here-)
It's one thing to have a moment of weakness. But inherent weakness? Inherent cowardliness? We would put the book down. Wrinkle our noses.
Despite the fact that we, ourselves, are not always inherently brave. Despite the fact that we don't even acknowledge bravery when we do see it.

In school, situations go bad fast. Drama, fireworks, whispered rumors, passive aggressive Facebook posts (I'm not kidding. Facebook is a battle ground, yo, and sometimes, there be blood) and flat out meanness can come out of tiny situations. When the situation grows, so can the fallout. And the people who start bandaging problems, who start fixing things, who don't cry, scream, or proclaim that they are going to die, are viewed positively. Brave, even. But take it out of school. Take situations out in the real world. Would simply fixing conflict be brave? Or is confronting the one causing the problem braver? Is it weak to want things to fit back to normal, or would it be wrong to let life crumble?
Courage is relative. It's hard to figure out, and it's messy. Sometimes being brave sucks. When you look to Scarlet O'Hara, a character who is often very brave, but not very nice, we get a character that many people don't like. But she is almost universally admired; I mean, there's a reason that thousands of people have slogged through the hundreds of pages of Gone With The Wind, and it's not just for the corsets.

Because we like to read about heroes. In situations that we never thought we would have to face. In situations we are scared of. In situations that sometimes, aren't even possible. But we read about heroes because we can see bravery, we can figure it out. It's like those Christmas stories -- seeing bravery, seeing heroes, gives us hope and happiness and other fuzzy, sparkly stuff that would totally bake into an awesome cake.

We like making our characters infallible. But it's not brave to fight when you have nothing to lose. It's one of those things in writing that has to be addressed -- weakness is what makes us strong.
Make your characters brave, guys. Make them strong. But remember -- the best heroes are the ones who are like us. Who aren't always brave. Who aren't always strong. Who, sometimes, are scared to fight -- but ultimately, pull out their sword, their machete, or their wicked awesome ninja stars, and fight anyway. Katniss Everdeen, Harry Potter, even Bella Swan are brave, in the end, because they are scared and fight anyway. Those are the real heroes.
(Are you still wrinkling your nose because I called Bella brave? I feel like you are.) (Siggggh.)
More later, guys, probably in the form of reviews. I've got a lot to catch up on. I hope your holiday remainder is fan-flipping-tabulous, all, and don't have too much fun come New Years.
(Or do. I don't judge.)

Delirium, by Lauren Oliver

sfriverfork@aol.com (Sam) — Fri, 24 Dec 2010 03:58:00 +0000

Release Date: February 1st, 2011

Good Reads Says: Before scientists found the cure, people thought love was a good thing. They didn’t understand that once love - the deliria - blooms in your blood, there is no escaping its hold. Things are different now. Scientists are able to eradicate love, and the governments demands that all citizens receive the cure upon turning eighteen. Lena Holoway has always looked forward to the day when she’ll be cured. A life without love is a life without pain: safe, measured, predictable, and happy.

But with ninety-five days left until her treatment, Lena does the unthinkable: She falls in love.

I Say:
Holy monkeys and pandas, dude.
This book?
Nightmares. Do you know the last book that gave me nightmares?
Oh. You don't? (Wait, you don't know my every thought? -blinks- Huh.)
Anyway, I guess I can't be too annoyed by that since I don't even remember. And yet, I woke up at 3 in the morning, decided to finish the book, and went back to sleep at 4. I then went on to dream and wake up totally freaked out.
Here's the thing that makes Delirium scary--it makes sense.
I have had a sucky time with boys lately. I don't like feeling sad, depressed, angry, that whole shebang. So when I picked up Delirium, I was half thinking, hey, a government that takes away the side affects of that? Creepy, I guess, but not that bad.
Yeah.
Dude.
That bad.
Lena is ready. Lena doesn't want to feel love. She's scared of it. Doesn't even want to say the word. She lives in a world that is eerily similar to ours, and at the same time, is incredibly different. She doesn't know what poetry is, and a mother that declared love is considered shameful. A mark on her record. Lena wants her emotions gone. And--I mean, as creepy as it is, there's a weird sense to it.
But then you see it in action.
And Lauren Oliver's writing is so flipping beautiful. The writing is not as pretty as that of Before I Fall, but there are still brilliant moments. The plot is not always fast, but I promise--the end? Yeah. The last ten pages are so slam packed and so heart jolting that its definitely worth getting there.
The back of the book compared Delirium to the danger of Hunger Games and the romance of Romeo and Juliet. It's scary in a different way than Hunger Games, because it seems, in a way, more realistic. And as for romance? The boy Lena falls for is -- interesting. She falls pretty quickly, but at the same time, it makes sense. She's never even talked to boys before, and the budding relationship seemed realistic enough. But the way the story built and twined and grew?
Yeah.
Waaaaay more romantic than Romeo and Juliet. (Of course, I do have a low opinion of that play. Cept the version with Leonardo Di Caprio as Romeo.)

(Lord, the boy be pretty.)
Anyway.
Bottom line: Sometimes, true enough, the story did drag. The prose was beautiful, and the characters/society were believable, if not as mind numbingly fantastic as those in Before I Fall (which, actually, is one of my top reads, though -- so yeah) (Actually, had a friend start randomly talking about BIF yesterday. Seriously. She had no idea that I loved it, but she raved for like, ten minutes. It was kind of great.) But Lauren Oliver shows you a society that is absolutely terrifying. And I am thinking about it. I am unsettled and bothered and that, to me, is what makes a good book. I can't get the dang thing out of my head.
And now?
I don't want my feelings gone. These crappy feelings, these awful feelings -- they're better than nothing. Indifference is terrifying. I've always believed it, but I gotta say, Delirium reminded me. And kind of smacked me in the process. With a ten pound weight.
It's thought provoking, y'all. Be ready. And, to finish it off, the Amazon quote--

Ninety-five days, and then I'll be safe. I wonder whether the procedure will hurt. I want to get it over with. It's hard to be patient. It's hard not to be afraid while I'm still uncured, though so far the deliria hasn't touched me yet. Still, I worry. They say that in the old days, love drove people to madness. The deadliest of all deadly things: It kills you both when you have it and when you don't.

Gah. -shivers-
More later, everyone.

Here come the holidays

sfriverfork@aol.com (Sam) — Sun, 19 Dec 2010 11:10:00 +0000

Hey all! How are you? Freezing? Dancing around with hot chocolate and apple cider? Wearing fuzzy socks?
Dude.
Why not?

Anyway, the holidays are here or coming, depending on your denomination, and I think we should CELEBRATE. And how should we do that?
Well. With books, obviously.
Every year, my mom buys books for Christmas. Seriously, there are usually quite a few books. This year, I know several of the ones I'm getting, though. (How? She let me pick them out. AND THEN SHE TOOK THEM AWAY. Yes. My mother is mean.) (Hi, mom. Love you oodles. :P )
Anyway.
Do you give books for Christmas? I'm always nervous to hand people book babies, because what if they don't like them? Seriously, that would be no bueno. (Why yes, I am in Spanish III. Can't you tell?) However, there are a few that I know are usually good bets. And now we segue into the point of this post.
PRESENTS.
What books make good presents? Now. I know. You can't give the same book to everyone. It would be BAD. Giving me a book on the intricacies of tuna, for instance, would not go over well. But there are some blanket books that work relatively well, I think.
For instance, for little girls?
This one.

Seriously. I loved this book dearly when I was younger. It has LESSONS and PRINCESSES and dude, it even has monkeys.
This is obviously the sign of supremacy in the book world.
I'd offer up Harry Potter, but everyone in their right mind has already read it. If you haven't, you should.
(-cough-Maggie-cough-) (Someday, she'll get sick of me harassing her and read them. And I will be very pleased.)

For the teenage set, I can definately recommend one this year. Serious, I wasn't joking. Need a present for a teenage girl? I suggest Anna And The French Kiss.

It's funny. It's sweet. It's everything that you want for Christmas. I actually can't think of a friend that probably wouldn't like it. I'm generally the most cynical of my group, and I thought it was adorable. And dude, I don't use that word often. Only when it comes to puppies, boys, sparkles, monkeys, pandas, more boys, waving cats, movies, aliens, other boys, Glee, and some books. So really, it's a pretty dang exclusive list.
This usually goes over pretty well, also. Now the movie is coming out, too, which means reading it is imperative. Seriously, City Of Bones is great.

Seriously. I actually haven't heard a teenager say they DIDN'T love this book. (Jace be hot, y'all.)
-ponders other books-
This was good for adult-like things. (AND THIS MOVIE IS COMING OUT TOO ZOMG. Why the caps? Because it's Rob Pattinson, and when he is not sparkly, he is really really hot.)

I don't usually like adult stuff (because, hello, I'm 16 and have severe Peter Pan syndrome) but Water for Elephants actually has kept me entertained.
I'm reading The Inferno now, but I don't really suggest that. I mean, I guess it's probably good to read, but for Christmas? I suggest brain candy. Candy is good. And it's Christmas, so candy implies peppermint. Win!

Dude. Is it just me, or does that look REALLY good?

Anyway. School is almost out for semester, which means a couple weeks of sleeping, Disney movies, reading, writing, and hopefully, no more petty school drama. You have no idea how excited I am for all of that. I will be delving into the worlds of fictional characters and drinking yummy peppermint chocolate. For realz, yo.

What about you? What are your plans for the holidays? And what books would you suggest as gifts?

Hey, girls, let's talk

sfriverfork@aol.com (Sam) — Thu, 16 Dec 2010 02:36:00 +0000

Remember that, okay?

I've been watching too many of my friends ripping themselves apart, too many strangers checking themselves in the mirror. I've heard too many freshman asking me quietly if I thought they were pretty, too many boys making rude comments about a girl's hair or clothes or face. I walked into the bathroom at a debate tournament to find a girl crying; at the next tournament, there was one hiding in a hallway, crying. Crying, crying, crying, all because they didn't think they were good enough.

And I've checked the mirror too many times. I've searched for that compliment, I've turned to the boy I knew would give it. And guess what? It's not needed. Not for me, not for you.

No girl should be fourteen and crying in the bathroom. No girl should be any age and crying in the bathroom. No boy should be dragged down by the stupid, petty comments people make. It's not cool, it's not okay, and it's so not needed.

And it's worse with creative people. I've noticed something about writers -- and specifically, teens that write. There are these moments -- these really dark moments. We all seem to get them. They are everywhere. Where the world seems too small, too bleak. Where we aren't good enough. And then, we're the girl or the guy with the problem. Luckily, there are enough people to pull us out, and luckily, most of us can pull ourselves out. But those moments still lurk.

You know. Those moments. The stupid ones that refuse to go away.

And that's normal.

But dwelling on it is bad. So let's not dwell. We know we're worth it, right? Even in the darkest moments, we need to remember that. The bathroom is not the place to cry.

We're better than this, y'all. All of us, guys and girls alike. The little stuff isn't worth it, and the big stuff will work its way out. And someday, it'll make a good story to tell.
(And yes. I promise, I will have book reviews up soon.) (Not that I don't mean everything I posted. I totally do.)
Anyways. More later.

Books are Famous

sfriverfork@aol.com (Sam) — Tue, 14 Dec 2010 03:09:00 +0000

Ahem.
Hi.
-blinks-
-looks down in shame-
-wonders if whining about debate and finals will make it better that I've totally been neglecting my blog-
....
-hands you cookies-

Ahem. Anyway. Moving on.

Guess what?

No.

Seriously. Guess.

....You aren't guessing. Fine. Whatever. I suppose that's okay. I'll survive. More importantly, THIS came out last week.

(And because of debate, I was not able to start it until yesterday. I would like to point out that this is a sign of how much of my life debate eats away. I'm not just neglecting you, dear people. I'm neglecting shmexy vampire boy things. So...yeah. -hands over more cookies- )

Anyway. I would give a book review, but there are plenty of those. Plus, I've still got like, twenty pages left. Stupid teachers keep teaching and making me pay attention to things like molecular geometry instead of, you know, finishing the book.

BUT.

There is something fascinating about this book. And no. It isn't just the shmexy boys or the pretty cover (mygodiwanttolooklikethaaaat.) It's the reaction people keep giving.

To this point, there have been four people that have grabbed book, petted book, read parts of book, asked me about book, and one that about had a break down when I tried to talk about it. (On the upside, it was really kind of funny.)

I have never seen that reaction to a movie. To a magazine. To a video game, even.

(Fine. Maybe I have. Shut up.)

(Oh, crap, don't shut up. I'm sorry. Come back.) (Here. Take this. Please?)

Seriously. It was the best thing ever. People I've never talked to, people I thought were stuck up or annoying, people who think I'm pretentious and spend too much time talking about debate (ahemiprobablydocoughahem) suddenly engaged in deep conversation about the hotness of Dimitri/Adrian, the prettiness of the cover, the love of Lissa, and holycrapohmygoodness, who will Rose chose?

I find this wonderful. I find this fascinating.

I find it a sign that books are now the new cool accessory.

-nods-

-blinks-

Well. Fine. Ipods might still win. Or puppies.

-ponders-

Yeah.

Puppies might win. Or sparkly debate trophies.

But personally, I would totally rather have the book.

(Okay. Fine. I want debate trophies too.) (And puppies.)

But yeah. The book is still best.

Boys and Books

sfriverfork@aol.com (Sam) — Tue, 30 Nov 2010 09:35:00 +0000

Relationships in high school?
Suck.
Just saying. You can be happy for like, ten seconds. Even REALLY happy for about ten seconds. And then there is crushing, awful, horrid pain. Then they are done and over. At least, my opinion right now. (And can annnnyone say 'jaded?')
However.
There is a silver lining, and it is only, only because of books. I'm not joking. Books, authors, and friends are way better than chocolate.

(Even though that would be good too.)

Every book I have ever read has been my teacher this past week. They have taught me everything to do, everything to say, and that every feeling -- every god awful, heart wrenching feeling -- is okay. Is normal. And best of all?
It'll be over. This hole in my chest will get better. The way my stomach wants to twist into circles when I see him will eventually settle. The weird mix of fury, humiliation, and sadness will fade. School won't be a battle, but something I actually enjoy; this upcoming debate tournament won't be dreaded for any reason other than the fact I am too lazy to do proper research about banking and such. I won't wake up at 3 in the morning with these awful, awful dreams and then realize -- oh wait, dude, that happened. (Well, now at least I know I can write about this truly.)
I mentioned humiliation. Well. Books. Books, books, books -- they tell me it happens, they tell me that it happens and you can survive. That the humiliation will fade. The sadness will die. The fury -- well, I hope it goes away, because part of me still really wants to stay friends with the dude.
And someday? I won't care anymore. That is the most hopeful right now. I won't care someday. (I swear to god, if it isn't soon, I am moving to London this summer.)

It's funny. Even my English teacher came up to talk to me about it -- not that she knows what boy, because I don't particularly feel the need to do that to him -- and was kind of amazing. It's proof. English people are way cool -- it's just the way it is. (Of course, she came up because I walked into the room and, literally, like some bad, bad teen flick, everyone turned to stare, and five people flooded to talk to me, so that wasn't quite as cool.)
But. Books have an answer for that too. It also goes away. Soon it will just be a grimy rumor on the circuit. And it gives me hope, because I am assuming that authors write books off their experiences. (I am so putting this in a book someday. Ahem. Is that evil? I won't mention names...) Anyway. That means that real people, awesome, amazing people, have felt this awful feeling, and they survived.
So. I'm going to survive it too.
My friends have been amazing. Books told me that, too, but I wasn't sure that I believed it. Immediately, there was a battalion of them ready. (Granted. Their way of armor? They told people. At least, I'm assuming that's how everyone seems to know. Not so great there, but hey, I've had like, seven people I've barely talked to come and tell me how sorry they are. I'm feeling kind of really bad for the guy involved, actually.) My friends, though, have really, really been there. My mom and sister too, and my sister's best friend even drove over here the night it happened because sis was at college. (My dad is just kind of like, wait, what? What?! Baha. Good to know the books got that right too.)
I don't know that I would have survived this so ... so whole .... without books. It still sucks. God, does it suck. But even if I can't bear to open one with a relationship up right now, I know that they are there. And there are ones with plenty of bombs and crap to tide me over until a week or two weeks pass, and I'm feeling more optimistic about relationships.
And best of all?
Someday, according to every book I have loved most? According to every book that right now, I'm too scared to open?
There will be at least some element of a happy ending.
And this time, the guy won't act like such an asshole.

Anna and the French Kiss (Stephanie Perkins)

sfriverfork@aol.com (Sam) — Sun, 28 Nov 2010 02:12:00 +0000

Release Date: December 2, 2010 (Soon, guys! Soon! BE ON THE LOOK OUT!)

Amazon says:
Anna was looking forward to her senior year in Atlanta, where she has a great job, a loyal best friend, and a crush on the verge of becoming more. So she's less than thrilled about being shipped off to boarding school in Paris — until she meets Étienne St. Clair. Smart, charming, beautiful, Étienne has it all . . . including a serious girlfriend.

But in the City of Light, wishes have a way of coming true. Will a year of romantic near-misses end with their long-awaited French kiss? Stephanie Perkins keeps the romantic tension crackling and the attraction high in a debut guaranteed to make toes tingle and hearts melt.
I say:
Oh, gosh, you guys.
This book is so cute.
Seriously. Maggie and Sarah (their names link to their reviews) have been talking about it for literally weeks (like, nonstop love talk) and I can totally see why. I'm overwhelmed with the need of emoticons for this review -- that's my level of incessant adoration. It was sweet and well written and hilarious. It had a cute boy that was the best friend as well as the love interest. There are snippets of Paris and of young love and of awesome food and great cinema.
Anna is sent to the boarding school because her dad is a novelist and wants her to be cultured. And honestly? I totally love that, because it seems realistic on some level. She doesn't utterly, totally and completely hate the idea, but she sure isn't thrilled. I mean, the girl took Spanish -- she knows nothing about France. Well. Nothing more than like, I would know. (Hello, Spanish 3.) And I can just tell you -- I would NOT be happy to be uprooted and tossed in Paris, even if it is Paris.

(Well. Maybe.)
But honestly, it would suck -- lose your life to move to a city where you don't even speak the language. Anna is not thrilled. But then she's there.
And there is a BOY-THING.
And BOY-THING is BRITISH.
Seriously, dude.
British boy in Paris. What more could you want?
The thing is, this romance is so real. Like, St. Clair is more than just Anna's object of omigawdhawtness. He's her friend. This is a story about finding love, but more than that, it's about friendship. And, you know, Paris.

(I sooooo wanna go to Paris.)

Books like this are not my favorite, normally. Too easy they can cross the line into cliche and possibly annoying. The Summer I Turned Pretty is about the closest I've come to true love for a book in this genre, and I've got to say, the list after that doesn't get all that much longer. However, Anna and the French Kiss is just as good as my favorites in any genre; I love it just as much.
:P Seriously. You won't be disappointed. If you buy a book this Christmas, I suggest this one whole-heartedly.

(Also, randomly, I love the girl on the cover. She just FITS.)

Win?

sfriverfork@aol.com (Sam) — Tue, 23 Nov 2010 01:38:00 +0000

-offers you knife-
Why? Because I am a bad blogger. I am giving you the change to cyber stab me. It's okay. My cyber self can take it. I understand. I have been a bad blogger.
And for the moment, I'm continuing that. I've got a massive essay due in -- ahem -- twelve hours, and I haven't started it yet. (Shush. I'm a bad student, too.)
You know what I'm okay at, though?
Talking.
Remember me whining about losing?
Well. Now I have a pretty 2nd place trophy. And it was seriously awesome getting it.
(Even if my coach LIED TO ME and said I got FIFTH and I got on stage and was like Wait, why the freak aren't they calling my name -- OMG THEY FORGOT ME -- OR NO, OH CRAP, I AM NOT EVEN SUPPOSED TO BE UP HERE AND THIS IS BAD AND I KNEW A JUNIOR WAS NOT SUPPOSED TO GET THIS FAR AND--wait, what? Second? SECOND?) (And then the debate team was CRACKING UP across the auditorium because I am on stage blinking and looking around like a freak. Yes. Some teams clap. Others laugh hysterically at their poor misinformed 11th grader.)
Anyway.
It just goes to show you -- sometimes you have to lose to figure out how the heck you are supposed to win. It's the same in writing, the same in everything; just keep going, just keep at it, and guess what? You'll win. I have a cheap plastic shiny thing in my kitchen proving that to be true.
Cheers, all.

I'll have a book review up later this weekend. More later.

Week of Evil With A Metallic Edge

sfriverfork@aol.com (Sam) — Sun, 14 Nov 2010 20:31:00 +0000

Let's take a look at least week.

...

.....

...

Nuff said.

Moronic Monday (which, ahem, actually led to half the problems later on in the week.) Terrible Tuesday. Wrecked Wendsay. Thursday wasn't bad, but I staid until almost 6 at night to help get our school's debate tournament together. Was at school till 11:30 at night on Friday, then back at 6:45 in the morning on Saturday.

I like my sleep.

6:45 in the morning on a Saturday should not even be a possibility. Just saying.

There were boy problems (aren't there always?) and friend problems, and siblings annoyances and grade disasters and social dances that seem like a waste of time and yet are exercised anyway. Yelling teachers and crying students and mirrors of evil and the Corner of Emo. (Picture of Emo Corner available here.) The kind of week that usually makes me want to go pull a blanket over my head and watch lots of Disney movies. You know. That week.

Serious. These are my go to, guys.

Know something interesting, though? I've realized a pattern lately. When something goes bad in my life, I don't feel as awful as I used to. Yes, it sucks. Yes, I have to catch my breath every once in a while and try not to have a mental breakdown. However, there's a silver lining.

Every crappy thing that happens to me is a story. Every awful moment, every bratty comment, every screaming teacher, every weird social ritual.

Every asshole that hurts my feeling a character.

The boy that makes my head/heart hurt will get a scene.

The friend that isn't a friend will see her due. The friend that's alway there will get her moment, too.

Weirdly enough, it makes me feel better. It seems as if I'm not the only one, either. Upon telling Maggie my boy issues, she blinked at me and informed me what a good scene the moment stressing me out would make.

Experience is the best teacher in math, and people always say it's the best mentor in writing as well. It's always calmed me down, but I never thought it could be a therapist as well.

I've been doing as much as I can lately to tally experiences up. Someday, they'll be moments to draw inspiration from.

That quote really had nothing to do with anything, but I like it. Therefor, since my week sucked, I am going to put it on my blog. Because I'm cool like that.

What about you? When something bad happens, do you write about it?

Also, as a side note, any boy advice would be lovely too. Perhaps about how it gets better in college.

(I'm joking.)

(Kind of.)

What am I saying? I'm just gonna marry one of these two.

Later, all.

So you wanna be a writer

sfriverfork@aol.com (Sam) — Thu, 04 Nov 2010 02:54:00 +0000

I'm a writer. I want to write.
Easy enough to say? Right? I mean, dude, I've got a blog dedicated to it. Obviously I want to write. I do it a lot, more than anything else except maybe reading and incessantly jabbering at my friends/family. But despite that, admitting that I write?
Um.
No. Just . . . No.

No.

Nope.
Nuh uh.
Doesn't happen.
When a debate friend asks what I'm going to be in ten years, I don't hesitate before saying what they'd esxpect. I don't tell people I write. When someone compliments my essays, I just kind of smile. I have at least a dozen notebooks filled with random scribblings, but I don't share that. The thing is, writing is dear to me, and it's something that is -- weirdly enough -- kind of personal. Not as in 'Oh, god, no one must read this' but more of a 'I'm not going to share this with you just to get mocked.' The only time I've ever told my friends about writing was last March, during Inkpop. The reaction I got was a good one, but still, I don't like 'bragging' about my stories. It's too personal, and I don't have any degree of success to measure that I'm not wasting my time.
(I don't think I am. But still, I don't want to be all Dude, I'm Ninja Writer.)

Anyway. Maybe it's because I'm so weird about my own writing, but when someone else my age starts talking about how they ARE an author, especially at school, I'm always -- perhaps unjustly -- skeptical.
See, it seems to me that there are two types of people who want to write.
There are the ones who write. Who sweat and cry and laugh at their own jokes and stay up till two in the morning to write something that might never meet the air.
And the ones who don't, but like to say they do.
For instance, the kid in English class that gets good grades and understands a metaphor. (This is hypothetical. I don't have a kid like this in my English class, but I know of several.) This kid wants to be a writer. They say it loudly, daily, and often with waggling eyebrows that dare you to contradict them.
And then they get a bad grade and they are PISSED. Righteously furious. Possibly on the verge of tears.
And I'm just sitting there, thinking . . . . Honey, that's not what a writer does.
Writing is the easiest part. The tears, the deep emo depression, the freaky highs and the awful lows -- that is the best part of writing. But it's the easiest. The hard part comes later. It comes when you send in a story to an agent and are told you just aren't good enough.
So you rewrite. You don't sleep. You don't do your math homework, or you slack a little at your job, and for some poor parents, they stay awake all night so not to neglect their kids. You end up cranky and falling asleep at random intervals.

But you do it. You write, because if you want to be a writer, then there is no other choice.

And you send it again.

And you still aren't good enough. The characters are wrong. The opening scene is flimsy. You're funny, and you have talent, but you don't understand how to plot. Slowly, things improve. Slowly. Very slowly. But it doesn't sparkle and grow wings without work. That is what makes someone a writer, I think. The ability to cut, abuse, smash, take a machete against and possibly someday even throw away a manuscript.

Yeppers. Your baby might end up in there. Any other world, that would be considered sick.

Nano is interesting to me. However, it annoys me greatly when people start talking about how it makes them a writer. It's a tool, it's a step, and it's a way in the right direction. I was listening to some friends talk about it -- they were introduced for the first time this year -- and tried not to smile at the assumption that writing 50k is easy. Only 1600 words a day.
Right. That's an essay. A long essay.
But I didn't say anything. That lesson is one someone has to learn on their own. And learning that lesson is key to becoming a writer.
Writing takes a backbone. People don't understand just how much until they get into it. Seriously, it can suck. But I entered querying a stupid 14 year old with an ego I didn't even realize I had and not nearly as much talent as I though I possessed. I entered it at a time when things were going south for my social life -- complications with a guy, best friends changing and turning out not to be so hot, a dislike for looking in the mirror too long -- and through the bashing, the building, the machete-ing (dude, you know it's a word) I may have lost some that dumb inflated ego I had. But I've grown. And that is just one reason I love writing. Why I keep doing it, keep hacking and cutting and writing, because at the end, I've got something I love.

(I am feeling ridiculously gushy right now. Let's talk about zombies or something.)

Okay, I'm rambling.
The rewrites, the editing, the obsessive combing over chapter after chapter -- it's worth it. At least, I think it is. And honestly, those days when I think that no, I'm not a writer, I'll never be a writer, not until I'm published, I think about the hours and days and weeks I've poured into stories.
I'm not an author yet. But I want to write, and I do write. Maybe I write crap a lot of the time, but honestly, I don't know that it truly matters all that much. I'll get better. It's scientific fact.
And yeah. I still can't say the words out loud, but I think that maybe, just maybe, that's enough to make me a writer.
What about you? What drives you to keep doing it? Do you think that ninja penguin was cute? Seriously, I now really, really want a ninja penguin.
More later.

Have Some Candy

sfriverfork@aol.com (Sam) — Sun, 31 Oct 2010 19:53:00 +0000

Happy All Hallows Eve, yay! -hands you candy-

-blinks-

That ... doesn't look so great.

Here.

Have these.

I'm off to do my homework (ew) and hand candy out to ~~ungrateful goblins~~ cute children (aw) and listen to Taylor Swift music (yay!).