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 Once again I'm jumping on a bandwagon steered by Should Be Reading.

What great books did you hear about/discover this past week? Share with us your FRIDAY FINDS! 

The Blood-Red Pencil: Busted!—Stephenie Meyer caught doing something right


Before anyone starts rolling their eyes, read this article. Great take on why sometimes NOT following the rules can create great work. I write what comes to me. It does not always follow the rules as far as form and structure. If the story comes to me and demands a fragment, then by golly that's what it'll have.


I've noticed that no matter what is out there to read, there is someone to praise AND criticize the work. Books are like everything else in our lives...subjective. We all come from different places in our lives. We live in different areas, sure, but I'm referring to our emotional places. We've all experienced different things in life. We are experiencing different things this very moment. Most importantly we all read for very different reasons. Some of us for pure entertainment. Some of us for escape from a harsh real world. Some of us for educational purposes. Some of us to develop our own writing style. Some of us for intellectual stimulation. No matter what reason we chose, it is different for all of us. Yet we all have the desire of each of these at some point in our lives.


Then why is that we criticize someone like Stephenie Meyer when she breaks the rules and doesn't fall in line with the others? After all, do we read things that our English teachers would have considered proper? I can't speak for everyone but I certainly do not. My reading list is so varied that I can't put myself into a category. I would venture to say that's true for most of us, if not all of us. In my reading, the writers have such variety of styles both in grammar and style that I can not pick a favorite because each style is as individual as each of us. For me, books are like my friends. Each has its own personality and style.

I couldn't really explain my addictive reading of the Twilight series to start with. After this article, I get it now. It wasn't the vampire aspect at all. It was that Meyer provided such tension, such desire, such creativeness that I wanted more. There was no quick resolution to anything. I like that. I miss that. Many of the books I've read since, at least the romantically inclined that is, have their characters in bed before chapter 3 and then drag out the conflict afterwards. I like that Meyer makes the sexual tension part of the conflict. Call me old fashion but I love the playing hard to get part especially since it is the hero's decision in this case and not the uptight heroine. I don't know why that is so appealing to me but it is.

Anywho, read the article over at The Blood-Red Pencil. Just remember, sometimes a slow walk through the park is more enjoyable than a sprint. :)

I’ve hit a wall. Figuratively; although, I’ve also stumbled into my fair share of literal walls lately as well. The wall that’s in my way right now is, well, I suppose it would be more like two walls…a corner possibly? I can’t seem to find the power to write anything…not even useless drivel. A creative thought would be desperate to find its way from head to the paper right now. I can’t think clearly enough to write anything that even I would want to read. That’s not the purpose of writing I know. You don’t write for others. You write the words that form the worlds in your head. I can’t find them though. All the thoughts, worlds, people, ideas, all of it that floats around (or rather stumbles) around in my head are so jumbled up right now I can’t focus on any one of them enough to breathe life into them. They are there. I feel them. See them. Taste them. They sing to me in the car…dance around my mental eye going nana nana boo boo. But the words won’t come to me. Just the ideas. They seem to come the best while I’m driving to and from work…a 29 ½ mile stretch one way and while I’m a mom of three and can multitask with the best of them, I have yet figured out how to write and drive at the same time without killing those around me.

While I struggle with my word block and while I am not taking any classes at the moment, I thought I would pour myself into some good books (even some not so good books). They idea of reading without having to analyze the content was so thrilling. The number of books I’ve read thus far this summer? One. One stinking book. I’ve carried several around but I can’t even focus on my reading and I LOVE reading. I have lost focus. Focus in everything. There are so many directions I want to focus on but I can’t even focus long enough to list what I need to focus on.

What’s a girl to do when her creative muses play hide and seek? Oh and they play so cruelly. They hide well enough I can’t find them when I want to give them their time (and their time to control their destinies on the pages or in the pages). Yet they poke their little mischievous heads out enough to let me know they are near and have so very much to share. They run off snickering at my total loss of control with them. Like children they taunt me. Like teens they drive me the edge and smile. Never pushing me off but never giving me space to turn and control what they are doing…or not doing. I miss the time I spent with them…both the time giving them life by putting their words down on paper and by entertaining them with the stories of others. I feel like I am in literary limbo. I can’t create and I can’t let the created in either. I miss my moments in both the creating and created realms.

I’ll sit here now; letting them come and go as they please until perhaps they’ll bore and come home to me. Let me nurture them; mold them; shape them into what they are to be. Even share them with the rest of the world. They entertain me even now. Now, when I have not control; no handle on them. They put smiles on my face; tears in my eyes; even a thump in my heart. I know that someday they’ll let me share them with someone else but for now I can take comfort in the knowledge that they did not leave me totally. And that is enough to pacify me…for now.

Teaser Tuesdays is a weekly bookish meme, hosted by MizB of Should Be Reading. Anyone can play along! Just do the following:

Grab your current read
Open to a random page
Share two (2) "teaser" sentences from somewhere on that page

BE CAREFUL NOT TO INCLUDE SPOILERS! (make sure that what you share doesn’t give too much away! You don’t want to ruin the book for others!)

Share the title & author, too, so that other TT participants can add the book to their TBR Lists if they like your teasers!

Jim glanced over at Mr. Matchmaker. Adrian Vogel was the reason he’d ended up here, and the Iron Mask was definitely the guy’s scene: Ad was dressed in black from head to toe and had piercings in places most people didn’t want needles anywhere around.~By JR Ward

I haven't started this one yet but I'm eager to start. I'm trying to work my way to it.


Now it's your turn! PLEASE LEAVE A COMMENT with either the link to your own Teaser Tuesdays post, or share your 2 ‘teasers’ in a comment here (if you don’t have a blog). Thanks!

I hear it all the time. “Make time for writing”. We all know that is the key but we also know that it is easier said than done. So I either continue to beat myself for it; forget it all together; or I get over it and sit down, take a deep breathe, and breath their release on to the pages.

I’m basically a pacifist. I don’t like to argue. I don’t like confrontation. I don’t discuss politics or religion. I don’t even like to answer people when they ask if something they’re wearing makes them look fat. I just don’t like violence or hatred or anything negative. That’s pretty normal. What I find odd about this is my new obsession with a violent and dark series, Dexter. If you don’t know, it’s a television series on Showtime that I ran across via Netflix that is a day in the life of a serial killer who works for the Miami Police department as a blood spatter analyst. No one knows what he really is, not even his foster sister who is a cop on the police force he works with. It’s dark, violent, and in some cases so far over the top it’s down right disturbing. Yet I find myself waiting by the DVD mailbox for the next to arrive from Netflix so I can find out what happens next. What does this say about me? Does it mean that I’m really a very disturbed person? After all, I’ve found myself rooting for the “bad” guy on several occasions. That’s just wrong, right? My only saving grace for my sanity is that he only kills killers. The scum of the earth. He has a code he lives by; only killing those who truly deserve it. The ones who the system let go. He punishes them for us. So I’d like to think that I’m not really a dark and ugly soul. I’d like to think that maybe it’s my way of balancing out the goody two shoes persona that invades my entire being and letting my psyche live a little wild while not staying up past my bedtime and not getting blood on the carpet. Ha! Ha! I really hope I’m not slowly losing my grip on reality here. Either way, I’m loving my dark world of Dexter and am sad to know that there’s 2 seasons not on DVD yet so I’m trying to savor the ones I have left to watch.