Guys, I'm terrible. I'm already slacking on my blogging and I haven't even been up for a month.
So here it goes, I'm just going to ramble on about my life for a bit then give you the actual blog of the week.
~ahem~
The last book I read was The Book Thief by Markus Zusak. If you don't know what it's about, it's about a young foster child living in the slums of Nazi Germany. Told from the perspective of death, the tale of Liesel Mimenger's life on the poor street Himmel (German translation-Heaven), Molching (fictional town). Liesel is taken from her Mother and placed in the home of Hans and Rosa Hubermann (on the way experiencing the tragic death of her six year old brother, Werner). During the time she spent there she meets a variety of interesting characters, such as Rudy Steiner (her best friend/next door neighbor) and Max Vandenburg (a Jew that the Hubermanns were hiding in there basement), all the while growing into a wise competent and life changing person herself.
(For those of you who have read the book, if this description doesn't do it justice, please don't hate me.)
While I know that there are a lot of mixed opinions on this, I think it was a beautiful story, so masterfully pieced together, a true work of art if I've ever seen one. The way Zusak lays out the events and the little tensions he so perfectly portrays is revolutionary. The writing is something I've both enjoyed thoroughly and learned a great deal from. While it is a long (and bit of a confusing) read, I recommend anyone read it, especially if your looking to hone your craft.
Okay, now that rambling is done. Onto the actual blog.
A List of Things that Occur After Someone Finds Out You Write for A Living...
*They always assume you have a pen.
*They think you are the best speller in the world. (Monkeys, my life would be worth virtually nothing without spell check!!!)
*They think you're some kind of flipping scholar (Because obviously if you can barely manage to finish a manuscript, your also a historian chemist and mathematician on the side)
*They think you are already published (Officer, I swear I've never conspired to murder Stephine Meyer, I just was thinking about how unfair it is that she's a bazillion-are for making up a vampire that sparkles while I'm flat broke trying to get an agent to ask for a partial, and, you know, the knife was already in my hand soooooooooooooooooo............................)
*They start getting awkward around you. ("So, you've finished a book........That's......great.")
*They ask you if you'll give them an autographed book for them to sell ten years from now when they know you'll be famous. (Never mind trying to read it. Who does that anymore?)
*You are boring to them now.
*They don't think you have a real job. (But I've already covered that in other blogs.)
~This applies to those who write YA, Paranormal, or anything among those lines~*"Hey Becca, when does the vampire/werewolf come out?" (Bite my tongue to keep from shouting VAMPIRES ARE DEAD TO ME NOW! [No pun intended], but my heart for werewolves will never die, so there is one in my book.) I feel I need to make this clear now. I am not Team Edward or Team Jacob. I am Team If-You-Mention-Those-Overly-Affectionate-Pretty-Boys-In-My-Presence-You-Better-Expect-My-Foot-Up-Your-Dairy-Air!
One more thing, Harry Potter. 'Kay, rant over.
*Every character in your book represents someone in your life somehow. (And if their is a love interest, you must be trying to immortalize someone your crushing on in your book.)
*Your a middle aged woman with three cats and/or two dogs who lives in some boring place. (Like Connecticut or Nebraska)
*You have every book ever created ever.
That's all I got for now. Comment below, add to the list.
A Note To Twilight Fans
I did not mean to offend anyone in this post, I every much respect Stephine Meyer and her books. I just think it's ridiculous how many people have become diehard fans just because the actors in the movie happen to be what most would call "Physically Attractive" (And to be honest, Robert Patterson was way better in Harry Potter).
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