Gretchen C. Hohmeyer's Blog, page 100

"The Girl of Fire and Thorns" by Rae Carson

The Girl of Fire and Thorns by Rae Carson

Four and half stars

Well, I should start off by saying that I could NOT stop reading this book. Literally. I started it LAST NIGHT, stayed up until 1:30 AM and then opened my eyes before 9 to keep reading it. I just had to know what happened. I do enjoy guessing what is going to happen as I read, and sadly with most books I'm hardly ever actually surprised. Not here! I was convinced the book was going to end with some kind of sappy, love-triangle ending as a lot of books seem to these days, but I was wrong. It was very refreshing.

The characters here were no great shakes, except for the main character Elisa. Talk about refreshing. She starts off as a fat, pampered, ignorant child–but not spoiled. She becomes pretty kick butt by the end, but she takes a journey to get there that is believable. Few authors dare to do this these days, and the ones who do rarely do it well. I felt like I could sit down and chat with Elisa, because she was just so REAL.

Granted, Elisa and the book did fall into one YA cliché that makes me sigh. So often in YA books these days, there is no visible growth when the main character falls in love. It is just instant love at first sight, BAM. Does it make the book move along, sure. But it's fairly ridiculous and it annoys me when it happens. At least here, Carson makes an obvious attempt to discern why Elisa feels the way she, and there isn't an instant lovey-dovey scene anywhere. Still a little too quick for my taste (and a little too quick for a certain event near the end of the book to have the impact it ought to) but better done then I've seen lately.

The world of The Girl of Fire and Thorns was also great. In places – especially in the beginning – I felt like I wasn't getting enough information to form a clear picture with, but enough information came out as the book went on for me to grasp generalities. The book was clearly setting up for a sequel, so it's entirely possible the world wasn't completely explained for just that purpose. Either way, it worked out well enough. The book flowed quickly and easily.

I read ridiculously fast first time through, and sometimes after that I won't reread a book, but I certainly want to revisit this one! Overall, I would certainly recommend this book to fans of fantasy YA fiction. It's different, it's believable and it's interesting. Four and a half stars from me!

Starting to think writing is just a thing you do?

Everybody knows that feeling. It usually happens when you haven't been writing well for a while, you're frustrated and you're just sick of the whole thing. You start to wonder if maybe writing isn't what you're supposed to be doing. There doesn't seem to be a reason for it, you're not getting anywhere and you just can't seem to do it any kind of good. You start thinking that maybe you should start looking for an actual purpose to your life.

A couple of months ago, I felt the same way. I had time to write, but I couldn't use it. I had ideas, but they translated to nothing when I tried to put them to paper. I sent out a bunch of stories and got half a dozen rejections–some of them so quick I had to wonder if they'd read past the first line.

Then I got this bout of carpal tunnel. For almost months, I couldn't write. Any writing power I had was dedicated to finishing backed up work with a deadline that kept creeping nearer and nearer. My fingers were dead appendages. Useless. Thing was, my brain wasn't. My imagination was still clicking, churning out threads of ideas here and there. When one finally popped out fully formed, I could do nothing. Even when I didn't have ideas, I found my fingers yearning for a pen to try to force something out. It made something very crystal clear:

I could not live without writing.

I realized that it had ceased to matter whether or not what I was writing was good. I had ceased to care about whether or not I could write something publishable. All I wanted to do was write.

The saying goes that it's not about the destination, it's about the journey. Sometimes, I forget that myself. Writing isn't all about writing THE END. It's about figuring out how you're going to get to the end, and watching your characters grow while they take that journey with you. It's about figuring out how to get yourself out of the corner you've written yourself into, or figuring out just where you're trying to go or what you're trying to say. The fact is that every writer has the same feeling every time they write THE END. All of us think that what we've written is horrible and unsightly. It becomes a mark of who we are if we can get past that or not. After all, neither our journey or that of our characters actually ends the second we write THE END. That first draft is just our baseline. The day you think that your first draft is polished enough that's it's done is the day you really need to consider a career change. Not a day before.

Is there a demon worse than writer's block? Yes, yes there is.

So, usually, writers think that writer's block is their greatest enemy. I mean, what's a writer without the ability to write? For good reason, writer's block has become the demon that haunts all writers' nightmares. But did you think that's the only thing that goes bump in the writer's night? Did you think it was the worst thing? Because THINK AGAIN.

Now you're laughing at me, right? Because writer's block is the very stuff nightmares are made out of for a writer. The idea that you just can't pick up a pencil or tap some keys and make words come out and form stories because all the sudden your imagination is barren and you're stuck worrying for days and an weeks and months if maybe you've finally killed your brain and there is just no more creativity to be had. The very thought makes life a lot less worth living. But, if the past couple of weeks have taught me anything, there is most certainly something worse.

At least, with writer's block, there are things you can do to help yourself. You take a break, curse your characters some, and swear you'll never write them again if they don't hurry up and behave. There are writing exercises you can do, or it just gives your fingers a well deserved break. Good things can come out of writer's block if it doesn't drive you to drown in despair first.

But imagine not being able to do ANYTHING. Imagine having ideas that you want to write but not being able to. Your laptop is sitting right on your desk, your notebook is resting right in your drawer—right there, all in reach. But you CAN'T WRITE.

Welcome to the nightmare that is carpal tunnel.

This had been my nightmare for the past two weeks. Luckily for me, all it took was a few weeks of resting in an arm brace for me to get right back at it again. Not going to lie, certain things still hurt like all get out, but there was only so much time I could take away from my writing before I went nuts. There are few forms of torture so agonizing as being able to touch your keyboard and smooth your notebook pages but not being able to tap the keys or curl your hand around a pen. You start wondering just what you did in a past life to deserve this, right before the laptop and notebook start laughing at you and your pain. The kicker is that carpal tunnel comes from writing and typing too much, so clearly you've been interrupted right in the middle of this great flow of creativity that is now being forcibly stopped up. It makes your head want to burst. All you want to do is sleep because you HURT and hopefully when you wake up enough time will have passed that you don't hurt anymore.

Now, granted, there are some things you can do. For instance, I have speech recognition software on my computer, so there was that. I wasn't completely dead in the water, no matter how I felt. But, for me, speaking aloud doesn't allow me the same connection with my subconscious that produces words in the perfect conduit onto the page. It's something, but it's not enough. And there's nothing you can do about it.

So there you are, my fellow writers. There's a new nightmare for your dreams, a new scary story to tell around your campfires. I hope you sleep well tonight.

Book Review: Bloodlines by Richelle Mead

Shockingly, it did not take me very long to finish this book. I avoided my family last night to finish it. I am a HUGE fan of Mead's Vampire Academy series (of which is this a spin off, for those of you not familiar with the books, and I was very excited to see the continuation of what seemed almost a closed book in "Last Sacrifice."

Originally, I wasn't sold on the idea of Sydney as the narrator. I liked her well enough from Rose's perspective, but she wasn't a character I loved. I picked up Bloodlines with the thinking, "Well, if Adrian's in it, it's worth it." Given that, Sydney was a nice surprise. Now that you can see behind her ultra-all-business exterior, there actually is an engaging 3D character who loves to act passive until the second you can't take it anymore and then she's concocting potions to use on bullies. Her interplay with Adrian was great as well. Somehow she managed to fire back at him as much as Rose ever did, but maintain a completely different vibe with him then Rose. It was quite well done and very enjoyable to read.

SPEAKING of Rose – she DOES make a cameo in this book, near the beginning, and I was very excited to hear about that. However, the scene that she's in is very … blah. Being a writer myself, the scene just made me feel like it was something Mead would have known enough to cut, but she couldn't because it had Rose in it. Because of this scene(s), the book actually gets off to a rather slow start, which is something I've never known Mead to do. (Also, there is absolutely no interplay between Rose and Adrian, one of the touchstone points I would have expected to be made, given how "destroyed" he was by her. Sydney may be dense in social matters, but Mead didn't even hint at it.)

BUT! Speaking of Adrian… Adrian fans, you will not be disappointed. He is back to his drinking, partying, druggy ways as much and worse as he was when we first met him, and it's amazing. His smart aleckness hasn't diminished a bit. Also amazing: there is actual growth for him in this book. I was never too sympathetic towards him before, because I wanted him out of the picture and Rose/Dmitri NOW, but I fell head over heels for him here. If you already loved him, well, you'll probably worship this book. (Also, I am now shipping Adrian and Sydney SO MUCH.)

Now, enough about the characters… The book on a whole was very enjoyable and an easy read that flowed together. Like I said, the beginning was slow, but once Mead actually got to the meat of the story it only went up from there. Several of the key plot points were easy to figure out, but I did NOT expect the end, ESPECIALLY the cliff hanger she leaves it on. I don't want to spoil it, but VA fans will want to shriek with happiness, and I myself need The Golden Lily in my hands RIGHT NOW because stuff is about to go DOWN. All and all, Bloodlines was a different tone from the VA series, but in a good way. It was a good set up for the rest of the series, and I know it's only going to go up from here.

Why you should write when you're fall-on-your-face tired

Now, I think you're all aware that you haven't heard from me lately. The reason is that I've been crippled with a two ton weight of writer's block. It wasn't for lack of wanting or time–I was just idea barren. Every time I picked up a pen and delved into my subconscious I found "BLANK." Utter blackness. Utter nothing. What was I, losing my imagination out the back of my head? I threw down the pen in disgust and decided to loll around like a couch potato for a while because why not? I couldn't write, I had nothing to do with myself. Even more annoying, the one time I didn't lack a smidge of imagination was at night, when I was comfortably in bed and wasn't going to move for anything. I could hear the prose rolling around in my head, several story ideas popping up at once. But I could never remember them in the morning. It took me FOREVER to realize the stupidest thing: write when you need to write.

I know, it seems so stupidly simple, doesn't it? Right now you're scoffing at me, going, "IT ISN'T THAT EASY" before continuing to bash your head against the wall. The thing is…I didn't have a choice. Once there's an idea, you have to snatch it up or it can be gone before you blink. That's why I carry a notepad in my purse–I take no chances. Pulling yourself out of bed at 12-1 in the morning, though, that requires some heroic effort. Trust me, once you actually sit up you feel like Hercules (also, tired).

One of the funnest things about this for me, though, was that I was utterly sleep deprived both times I did this. I had hit my over tired plateau ages ago, and I was floating in space with the walls whirling and all that jazz. I still put a pen to paper and WROTE. Why not? There was an idea, and my inner editor had shut down because there was no way SHE was going to stay up this late if I decided to be an idiot. My brain was fried; it wasn't going to second guess anything I wrote. There was nothing but me and the pen and the page.

Yes, the story is weird. Yes, it doesn't make sense in some places. But you know what? It's a story. It is a story I wrote when I thought I was mired in the pits of writer's block. It was even fun to read the next morning, when I couldn't remember what I'd written. It was an experiment that succeeded. Maybe your time to write isn't 1 in the morning, but all the same: write when you need to write, no matter how tired or otherwise supposedly impaired. You will have a lot of fun with it, at least. And you may even be pleasantly surprised in the morning.

Book Review: Chain Reaction by Simone Elkeles

Book Review: Chain Reaction by Simone Elkeles

The third book in Simone Elkeles's Perfect Chemisty series was good. It was a little different. It flowed. If it had been the first of a series, I would have applauded Elkeles for having created a very solid beginning. But the thing was, it wasn't. Chain Reaction was supposed to be the finale to her Perfect Chemistry novels, but compared to its predecessors, it didn't measure up. There wasn't much of the real chemistry found in Perfect Chemistry or the sweetness found in Rules of Attraction. Luis was good as a character, but this was constantly undermined by the cockiness about him that felt forced (as if Elkeles has gotten him confused with Carlos) and the fact that the one thing Nikki asked of him was not to lie, and that was all he did. Nikki herself started out as a strong character–if you can get past the fact that she was Mexican as opposed to white like in the other two books but all she did was act white–but towards the end she fell flat and unbelievable as she continued to pine after Luis after everything he did to her.

I will admit that the book had its moment; a few between Nikki and Luis, but most when Elkeles brought back Carlos and Kiara and Alex and Brittany–and kids! I fell in love with Alex and Brittany and I adored Carlos and Kiara so my perception is skewed, but it seems to be that I shouldn't be begging for characters from past books to drop in instead of caring about the story the book is actually about.

I must say, the end of the book did much to redeem itself, but there is only so much it can do when the rest of the book has been so flat. There was an interesting twist (and even another senseless death like Perfect Chemistry. Not what I meant, Mrs. Elkeles!) The epilogue, of course, was as corny and sweet as ever, and put a nice closing chapter onto the trilogy. All and all, a good read, but not quite as good as the first two books in the series.

Book Review: A Clash of Kings by George R. R. Martin

Yes, yes, this is an older book, but *I* just jumped on this train, so here we go!

For all my complaining, I did end up liking this book in the end. The beginning was good, the middle was a little boring and confusing, and the end was "OHMYGOD THINGS ARE HAPPENING." To be entirely fair, this series is hardly the kind I would ever pick up on my own, and for good reason. I'm easily bored, and I end up skimming a lot in these books. This is hardly new for me; I do that for Clive Cussler too, and I adore those books. However, in A Clash of Kings I found myself either repeatedly bit by this habit, or there were a few things that were just "…what." For example, the entire character of Melisindre. Just…what. She seems to have no purpose or even any kind of a real root of believability in the story. Except for giving Stannis the ability to magically kill people, which makes my eye twitch. For all the things GRRM goes on and on with explaining and giving us back story for, there were plenty of examples in A Clash of Kings of things that just seemed thrown in there; things that were too easy and left me dubious of their plausibility. Also, with all that explaining that he does, his habit of skimming over some of the story's most interesting and exciting points by having the POV character told them after you're certain all is lost does NOT give the event a harder punch into my gut. It annoys me.

I had ugly feelings about the switching of POVs and storylines, but I have a confession to make. I honestly cannot tell you which storyline or POV character I'm more excited to read about anymore. Characters who I barely thought of after A Game of Thrones are suddenly worming their way into my heart. Jon, Daeny, Tryion and Arya were always favorites, and now I've added Bran to the mix along with Theon, just because I want to see Theon's face smashed in and more of his sister. Also, give me more Robb gosh darn it, don't give me all of my Robb through his mother. Catelyn Stark was a nice character in the beginning, but now she bores me.

Despite being bored by some of this book, it did still manage to surprise me. Like I said, for all my complaining … I'm hooked. Despite of the length of A Game of Thrones and A Clash of Kings, there are still so many unanswered questions, unresolved issues AND GRRM managed to make up new ones. As if this world wasn't convoluted enough. I already picked up my copy of A Storm of Swords, and plan to start reading shortly. Let's start this most lovely form of torture all over again, shall we?

These Four Walls

These Four Walls

These four walls

Have held me up forever

Kept me safe all my life

And even when the colors dimmed

They stood so tall I never wondered

If they'd ever fall

These four walls

When did they start cracking?

How did I miss all the signs?

Now the chipping, the peeling,

The cracking, the holes

Are too far gone to repair

These four walls

Can't stand on their own now

Can't keep supporting the ceiling

From crashing down on us all

Their screams fill the air

But I'm too afraid to cover my ears

These four walls

I'm holding them up now

I won't let them crash on the only life I've ever known

There's nothing else for me to do

Even though I know

One day they'll smother me

The Only Way

The Only Way

They say the person who

Laughs the loudest and

Smiles the widest is

The one who is happiest

But don't they know?

A loud laugh is the only way

To cover the sobs and

A wide smile is the only way

To hold back the tears

Void

Void

It would be easier to say

I'm tired of feeling such soul-shattering sadness or

Holding in a horrid degree of hate or

Crying acid tears that tear open my flesh to the soul

I wish I could scream

That my heart is being torn apart

By fiery rage or mind numbing fear

But this is not the case

It is harder to admit

That I am being consumed by

The black hole of bleakness

That comes from being unable to feel at all