Ramblings of a Writer

Anyone else excited? I loved Pokémon Silver, so the chance to go back to Johto (and Kanto!) is so awesome. Plus I’m loving the idea of the Pokéwalker – anything that provides some sort of exercise motivation = all right by me.

Mirrored from Catherine-Haines.com.

While cleaning out my room, I found my year 12 (sixth form – I was 16) reading log. To earn some extra credits for NCEA, students at our school had to read nine full-length adult books which I had not read before. At least five books had to be chosen from list A, and all nine books had to be from list A and list B. There had to be a gender balance of sorts – five of one, four of the other.

So here is what I read that year:

• Jane Eyre – Charlotte Bronte (Required Category: Pre-20th Century Writer)
• Long Walk To Freedom – Nelson Mandela (Required Category: Auto/Biography)
• The House Of The Spirits – Isabel Allende (Required Category: Contemporary Author)
• Once Were Warriors – Alan Duff (Required Category: New Zealand Author)
• Falling Leaves – Adeline Yen Mah (Required Category: Book Dealing With Another Culture)
• I, Claudius – Robert Graves
• The Shelters of Stone – Jean M. Auel
• The Origins of Humankind -Richard Leakey
• Voyage To Atlantis – James W. Mavor

Some notes I have gathered from re-reading the reviews:

• My review of Jane Eyre was a very polite “WTF?!” That book put me off classics for a good while.
• I read Long Walk To Freedom in about five hours, using a technique that would later be used on the days of Harry Potter releases – I locked myself in my room and didn’t come out until I was done.
• I read House of the Spirits during mock exam week. I made notes on language and the use of third vs first perspective, and the evolution of the narrator’s voice.
• I didn’t like Once Were Warriors‘ use of coarse language – “maybe I am overly sensitive to the language” I see there.
• I may have been sensitive to coarse language, but from my memories of Shelters of Stone I didn’t seem bothered by all the sex scenes. I remember sitting and giggling over the naughty bits with friends.
• I was very clearly in a major archaeology/history mode that year.

I don’t read as much adult fiction as I used to, partially because I am no longer required to and partially because since that time there has been major booms in YA and I have discovered the YA book blogging community (and so I am introduced to YA books that I otherwise wouldn’t have been).

Interesting though what you find when cleaning.

Mirrored from Catherine-Haines.com.

Everyone else is making their resolutions, so I’ll introduce you to some of mine. Other than the old standards of “lose weight” and “stop biting fingernails” and the new addition of “get a job”, the rest of writing-related.

• Finish Lionheart draft by end of March.
• Finish The Circled Green draft by end of September.
• Write 20 000 more words for the Bones draft
• (In order to complete the previous goals) write a minimum of 10 000 words a month.

So yeah, those are the goals. The first 50 000 words of Lionheart are already with the beta, so she can get a good going on it while I write the last 20 to 30 000 words. The big elusive goal is “get Lionheart into shape so I can query it”, and given the encouragement I have received, I hope that will a) happen and b) lead to something more.

I’d cross my fingers, but I can’t type like that.

Mirrored from Catherine-Haines.com.

Title: Vacations From Hell
Contributing Authors: Libba Bray, Cassandra Clare, Claudia Gray, Maureen Johnson, Sarah Mlynowski
Genre: Anthology, Horror
Publisher: HarperTeen
Pages: 208
Copy Origin: Review copy provided by HarperCollinsNZ
Get Your Own Copy From: Amazon.com, The Book Depository

Life’s a beach . . . and then you’re undead?

In this must-have collection, five of today’s hottest writers—Libba Bray (A Great and Terrible Beauty), Cassandra Clare (City of Bones), Claudia Gray (Evernight), Maureen Johnson (13 Little Blue Envelopes), and Sarah Mlynowski (Bras & Broomsticks)—tell supernatural tales of vacations gone awry. Lost luggage is only mildly unpleasant compared to bunking with a witch who holds a grudge. And a sunburn might be embarrassing and painful, but it doesn’t last as long as a curse. Of course, even in the most hellish of situations, love can thrive. . . .

From light and funny to dark and creepy, these stories have something for everyone. You definitely won’t want to leave this collection at home!

Mirrored from On The Nightstand.

I am one of whose brain is constantly working; it’s constantly throwing up new ideas, and I am constantly going, “Damnit, not again!”. Rebekah and JK accuse me of stealing all the ideas in the country. They make me laugh; they’re good like that. They’re also very good at picking me up when I am having a down day and ask the dreaded question of “do you think I am a good writer?”

I have enough WIPs going at the moment, so I am not going to be starting anything any time soon. Well, not gonna start anything properly. But sometimes you just gotta scribble something down just to get it to shut up. I find prologues are good like that.

So, have a scribbly prologue, as an early Christmas treat. It’s very rough, but it sort of shows what my brain leaks out when I try and keep it shut. I’ll try and put up the beginning of Lionheart later in the week.

That night, a hero died.

His battlefield was not some strange and sandy place, some country on the other side of the world. No, his battlefield was his home, that place he had chosen to protect, and had risen up out of the darkness to protect those who could not protect themselves.

The battle had raged on the tops of roofs, that spot out of reach from the common person. It raged in the early hours of the morning, when every, it seemed, other sane person had long since turned off their lights and gone to bed.

This was insanity, and he knew it. But somebody had to do it. Somebody had to go out there, face hidden from the world and save it while it slept. Well, perhaps not the world, but this city at least.

The fight was brutal, blows coming thick and fast. Sometimes he landed them, and sometimes they were landed on him. One blow – was it lucky? Not for him at least – struck him on the corner of the eye, and he staggered, just for half a second.

But still, half a second was still half a second too much. It was just the opening his opponent had been waiting for, and both sides knew it. A few more blows and he was flat on his back, staring up at the person who had defeated him. A boot pressed down against his throat kept him from struggling too much, although it did not keep him from trying.

The victor reached behind them and withdrew the gun. The hero closed his eyes – it was not cowardice, he told himself in his last moments. Nothing he had done these past thirty years was cowardice.

“Take a bow, Nightshadow.”

The gun went off, and there was one less hero protecting the streets.

Mirrored from Catherine-Haines.com.