The End

Sitting here, right now, I’m trying to figure out the answer to a question.  I know I’ve wondered about it hundreds, maybe even thousands of times, but I still can’t answer it.

The question is, what do you do after you finish reading a book?  Are you supposed to just move on and pretend that you didn’t really get anything out of the book?  Even when you really did?  Or are you supposed to sit and think about it, even if you’re getting strange looks from your younger siblings because you’re sitting on the stairs, with a book in your hands and tears streaming down your cheeks?

About a month ago, I was sitting next to a friend at church, right before the sermon started.  Her friend had just given her back a book that she had borrowed.  It was a book I’d heard of before, but didn’t know much about, and, of course, hadn’t read yet.  My friend offered to let me borrow it, and there was no way I could turn it down.

The book was titled The Book Thief.  Basically, it’s about a girl living in Germany during World War II.  It’s not a simple read that you can demolish in one afternoon as a time waster.  You might be able to read it in one afternoon, I don’t know, but it’s still not a simple, easy book.  It took me a month to read it.  I feel really ashamed about that, but I was having a hard time reading anything.  It wasn’t until yesterday that boredom finally cured me.

And so, I finished it today, about ten minutes ago.  It was a good book.  I enjoyed it.  It did make me cry, but I am a female who finally understands the taste of grief, so I’ve been crying at a lot of books lately.  (Believe it or not, A Mango Shaped Space by Wendy Mass is in my list of books that I cried at.)

So, now I’m just wondering.  When a book really touches you, what are you supposed to do?  I’m not particularly fond of the idea of sitting on the stairs while my brothers half-argue with each other over something ridiculous and half-stare at me like something weird happened.  But, at the same time, just continuing on with my life like nothing happened feels wrong, somehow.  Like I’m not giving those poor characters what they deserve—even if they’re entirely fictional.

As you can tell, I ended up writing this blog post.  But I still don’t have an answer to that question.  Do you?


Preparation for Camp NaNo—July!

After my attempt at writing a novel for Camp NaNo in April failed miserably, I decided to try again for July—through a different route. I pantsed my way through April, so I decided to outline for July. I started mostly from scratch for April, so I decided to work on a WIP where I already had an idea where the story was going.


Then I realized I wasn’t excited. I mean, I’m excited for Camp, but I wasn’t excited for my novel. I like the characters and the plot and everything, but more in an off-hand way. I realized I don’t want to write that book right now. Later, yes. Now, no.

A bit later, I found the coolest idea ever*, from a fellow NaNoer, on how to come up with an amusing plot, almost on the spot. I followed his/her steps out of boredom and came up with a fairly interesting idea.

Even as I tried to force myself to prepare for Camp, this new idea started to develop itself in my mind. Already it had a fun main character and an interesting plot. Very underdeveloped still, but full of potential.

Long story short, I gave in. I’ve switched NaNo projects less than a week before July. But I am sooo glad I did. I’m using a different style of outlining, which isn’t as tedious as my original method, and the characters are already coming alive in my head. THe plot will still take a lot of work, but hey! I have a week before July starts, and who says the outline has to be entirely finished before Camp starts?

I am really excited and happy about it now. I can’t wait for camp to start! Really, I almost want to start writing right now. In fact, the biggest thing that’s keeping me back from starting now is that I’m not yet sure if I’ll write the story in first person or third person. I’ve done both and both are equally fun to write. I think it depends on what kind of emotion I want the story as a whole to convey, which I haven’t entirely figured out yet.

Anyway, I already have a title and a rough-draft pitch, which is…. Magic’s Artist: Cy, a ten year old art prodigy, has a secret—his art is not his own. Really, he can’t even draw a stick figure, let alone an award-winning painting of a girl, without the help of his magic.

How’s that sound?

Awesome, right? Actually, I have no clue if it sounds awesome or not. It does to me, and that’s all that really matters right now, yes?

I know I’m not the greatest at writing pitches, and that doesn’t even really get into the conflict of the story, but for now, it serves my purposes. After I’ve really discovered the conflict myself, I’ll probably write a new one.

Now. Back to writing that outline.

* original link here