On Grief

TW: Death

This is a hard post to write. This past month has been hard to deal with. A close friend, and a brilliant Australian author recently lost her life to cancer, and I'm still not sure how to deal with it.

Steph Bowe was a shining star in the Aus YA sphere. She published her first book, Girl Saves Boy, when she was 16. Around that same time, we became friends online and bonded over our love of writing and books. I didn't meet her in person until the release of her third book, Night Swimming, when she moved down to Melbourne, and we were able to hang out more often.

God, she was such a weirdo. She obsessed over the strangest topics, and would gush in detail about them. She was always hungry for knowledge. The last time we saw each other, we had a decadent brunch, where she told me all about arousal nonconcordance. That was who she was. She loved psychology and the weird parts of brains, and she loved teaching people.

She was known for always being in gorgeous floral dresses, no matter what the occasion. She was always so bright, the most beautiful flower in a garden. You could sit down with her and talk for hours about nothing and everything.

This is the first time I've lost someone close to me, so I don't quite know how to feel. I'm numb. I cry every few hours because I'm reminded of something she would have liked. I look at beautiful dresses and my stomach feels like it's shrivelling up. I look at her books, set on my Aus YA shelf (because of course I have a shelf for #LoveOzYA) and I'm reminded that she'll never write another book again.
Just before the New Year, Steph was so optimistic that her bone marrow transfer was going to be a success, and she was excited to tell us about the new story that was brewing about in her head. I wish I could read that story.

The writing community lost a brilliant soul, I lost a great friend of 10 years, but her works will always remain. Read them. Reread them. Let Steph fill you with her words.

Vale, Steph.

Left to right: Me, Danielle Wilkinson, Steph Bowe, Shivaun Plozza, Jes Layton

Books Read in January

I told you I was back!

So, my goal for the year--for every year, really--is to read 100 books. This used to be easily achievable, but with my mental illnesses come a shocking loss of motivation to do the things I wanted (but that's a whole other post). Yet I still persevere. I figure if I blog about the books I've read each month, I'll be more inclined to read faster, better, and with more gusto than usual.

"A book is made of paper, but a story is a tree."
pg 448

This month I read

1. The Starless Sea by Erin Morgenstern
2. Burn for Me (Hidden Legacy, #2) by Ilona Andrews
3. The Last Wish (The Witcher, #0.5) by Andrzej Sapkowski
4. Loki: Where Mischief Lies by Mackenzi Lee

I'll be posting reviews/dissections of The Last Wish and Loki because those are the two books that left me with a lot of thoughts.

The Starless Sea, though... That captured my heart. It was a book for book lovers. This is an unofficial review, more of an excited squeak and demand that you go out and read it.

Well, that's it for today, but stay tuned for reviews and news about upcoming projects. Here, have a puppy Layla to see you off.

Hi, I'm Back, and Probably For Good

I know, I know,I haven't been posting much lately. For years, actually. I've been busy with life, and blogging just took a back seat because I didn't think I had anything to write about.

But now I do.

I've started NaNoWriMo 2019, but that's not the big news. The big news is that I'm working on several projects at once. That may sound like a bad idea, and a good way to burn out, but because of my BPD, right now, I'm manic and all I wanna do it share it to the world.

So, item number one: I'm writing the first book in a series on greek mythology where the goddesses and women who have been scorned have their chance to tell their side of the story. To begin with, the so-called kidnapping of Persephone by Hades. This is my main novel project, and will be the first of many books, if publishers would want more.

2) I'm editing a novel that I wrote almost 10 years ago, getting it ready to be published. It's not far off from the copy edits stage, and I'm slowly drafting a query letter. Some of you might know what I'm talking about, if you're old followers. If you're not... well imagine Aladdin set in 1948 Ireland with faeries and leprechauns.

3) This excites me the most. This is my most secret project of all the things I'm working on, so I don't want to give away too much, in case this flops. I'm going to be self publishing a zine/anthology of short stories and poems every few months. I'm hoping to make it a quarterly thing, but who knows. I've written a lot of things, some just a few paragraphs long, some 20 pages long.

That's all I have to share with you today, but stay tuned, because I aim to be back very soon.

A very personal, but important post

TW: SUICIDE


This time last year, I woke up in hospital not knowing what had happened, but keenly feeling disappointed to be alive. The night before, I disassociated--for those of you who don't know, it means I lost myself in my head, and my body moved on its own accord. I was no longer in control, and that's a scary feeling--and packed a bag with as many sleeping pills as I could get my hands on, a water bottle, and my kindle. I told my parents that I was going for a walk. They must have known that something was up. Everyone who's seen me disassociate has told me that it's like I'm a completely different person.

It was late evening, on a gorgeous summer day. It must have been 7pm, or so, because I remember that it was still warm and bright, so when I walked off the track in the reserve behind my house, I could easily navigate through the brush and fallen logs, and out through the other side. I don't quite know what was on the other side of the small forest. It felt like I had walked through a portal. On one side were houses backing up onto the walking track, and then on the other side, there was this strange and peaceful field, kept in immaculate order. There were lakes with ducks that angrily chased me, and footpaths that stretched on.

As I walked, I started downing my pills. I found a spot, a dip in the field, surrounded by reeds that towered over me. I pulled out my kindle and read while I waited for the pills to hit me. It was starting to get cold and windy. The reeds protected me from the worst of the wind, and I felt safe among them.

By then I knew that my parents would have been worried. I knew that my boyfriend and my girlfriend would be worried. No one knew where I was. I didn't even know where I was. Months later, when I would try to find my way back to this place to come to terms with what I did, I would fail. It disappeared.

I don't know what time it was when I first saw the helicopters searching for me. I'd been slipping in and out of consciousness. I had laid my head on my bag and it felt as if time was moving faster than it should. But I wasn't dead yet. I wasn't even asleep. I turned off my kindle so that they wouldn't see the light in the middle of this field, and waited some more.

It must have been hours later when I decided that I was a failure--that I'd failed at killing myself--that I got up and decided to go back home with my tail between my legs. But I was lost. I followed the pathway I'd taken, but it led me to unfamiliar places. It was so cold for a summer night. When I came across a hole in a fence, I decided to take my chance and go through it, thinking that maybe it would be another portal that would lead me to safety.

It sort of was.

I came out in a small alleyway surrounded by houses and I had no fucking idea where I was. But I walked. I picked a direction, and walked. I couldn't even use my phone for a map because I purposely made sure the batteries were dead. Stupid stupid me. At this point I was delirious, but regretting it so much. If I'd have waited in that field another hour, I'd have passed out.

I made myself vomit. It tasted awful. Once I started, I couldn't stop. I would walk past each house and vomit on its nature strip. This close to Christmas, some of them still had lights up. It was beautiful and torturous. I worried I would never have another Christmas again. My birthday was in 7 days. Would I make it to turn 24?

At one point I lay in the bushes on some person's lawn, and a cat came up to me. It reminded me of my babies, my two cats, Luna and Selina, and my giant dope of a puppy, Layla. How would they react to my being dead? Would it hurt when they missed me? Would they understand that I was gone forever? Or would they sit on my bed every day, inhaling my scent, waiting for me to walk through the door and shower them with love?

And what about my boyfriend? He was not just my lover, but also my best friend. He had called the ambulance on me so many times during my many suicide attempts. How could I hurt him like that? How could I leave him like that, after all the moments we had together? Forcing each other to write; driving me an hour to get my two beautiful cats; being the perfect father for my pets. Even if he weren't my boyfriend, we'd still be best friends. We had a connection, that was kind of like soul mates, but that's too much of a cliche. We were soul-buds. Friends that were made to be together.

And what about my girlfriend? I'd known her for only a couple of months, but we had a connection. She was gorgeous and tasted sweet, and I loved our tea dates in the city. (About a month after this event, she broke up with me because she couldn't handle the stress and the pain of being with a mentally ill person. I don't blame her. She's since blocked me on all forms of social media, but I don't hate her for it. I just wish I was a better person for her, and that I didn't have to put her through all this pain and uncertainty.)

Finally, I saw a car, and I got up on unsteady legs and waved at them to stop. Please don't be a serial killer, I thought to myself. It would have been so ironic for me to have been murdered just when I decided I wanted to live again.

But it was a woman, and she was so nice. I asked her for directions to my street, and instead of pointing the way, she offered me a ride. It turned out I was walking in the opposite direction. She took me to my street, where there were cop cars and an ambulance. When I got out and surrendered myself to them, I finally lost all memory. I lay on the uncomfortable gurney, and started losing consciousness as they asked me questions. I think I fell asleep. I don't remember anything after that. All I can remember is waking up in a hospital gown, with wires taped onto my naked body underneath--I'd been hospitalised too many times to feel embarrassed about a nurse undressing me and preparing me like that.

I could have cried when I woke up and saw I was still alive, but I was so dehydrated from all that vomiting, and the IV drip was working far too slowly for my liking.

In that moment, I made myself a promise: that I wouldn't attempt suicide again for the rest of the year. And I fulfilled that promise, I'm proud to say.
Now, I have another promise to make: that I won't attempt suicide in 2017.
I have so many friends that love me, and it gives me strength.

So, here's hoping I can write a post a year from now about how I survived 2017.

TL;DR: I tried to kill myself, but didn't succeed, and I'm happy to be alive.

February's Book Haul

What I've been up to in March + future plans

March is a strange month. It comes after the 28 or 29 days of February, and it's got daylight savings to boot.
For me, March was a month where I got very serious about editing my current novel, and lazy about writing a different novel. Now let me tell you, editing is hard.

See all those red lines and scribbles? Editing is no joke. I plan on writing a series of posts about my editing processes. Because it is looooong.

On the personal side of things, life is bumpy, as it always is. I have my good moments where I edit whole chapters in the space of a day, and days where I barely have the energy to leave the house.
But I've been slowly slowly beating depression's butt.

With depression, it's hard to actually get up and do something productive. I've been writing this  post since February. But I really want to reconnect with the online world, so here I am.

My Relationship with Books

To be a writer, first you must be a reader. (I think someone important said that.)

My first interaction with books was when my mother would build me little forts out of books, and I'd choose one to pore through. I don't have any memory of this, but mum insists it was really cute.

My first memory of books was reading in the dead of night. When I was a child, I was scared of the dark (still am, come to think of it), so the light in the hallway outside my door was lit until one of my parents woke up or so. Each night, I'd wait for my parents to fall asleep, and creep out into the hallway and sit right down on the floor with one of the numerous books I'd borrowed from the library.
That was how I'd read most of the Harry Potter books, and the Lord of the Rings, as well as playing Pokémon Silver. When I heard the creak of my parent's bed, or the sigh of them being roused from sleep, I would hustle back to bed and pretend I'd been asleep. If I was lucky, it would be a false alarm, and I could go back to reading until it was time for school.
To this day, I have reading-induced insomnia.

When I was in highschool, reading was never really cool, so I stopped it for the sake of joining in with my friends. What they didn't know was that I was devouring books like Les Miserables and attempting at War and Peace. I was the first one in my group--and probably the school--to read Twilight, and thought it meh before moving on to real vampire books like Anne Rice's series.
I'd also spend my nights reading fanfiction, or original fiction online, on fictionpress and its sister site. I must have read hundreds of words worth of books in those years.

It was only when I had graduated from highschool, when I'd removed myself from several toxic relationships, that I'd enveloped myself in the world of books.
I firmly believe that it was my lack of books during my teenage years that made me so heavily suicidal. Now years later, I have my books and I feel so much better.

Books are magic. Everyone says that, and that's because it's true. Twilight was so popular because girls could leave their boring/over-complicated/abusive/etc'd lives for a little while. And it's because I can leave myself for so many hours at a time that I've been able to cope with depression.

And with the devouring of books came the inevitable writing of books. I'd run out of books I'd wanted to read. I'd read everything on fictionpress; so I wrote something I'd want to read.
That part still remains. Right now I'm in the mood for selkie/mermaid hybrids and the end of the world and human sacrifices, and that's exactly what I'm writing.
Write the book you want to read (I'm sure someone definitely said that.)

Mental health and writing.

TRIGGER WARNING: SELF HARM AND SUICIDE

In which I blog about my other blog

So, to some, it might not come as a surprise that I review books on the side under a pseudonym, Nikki Mars.
I just started updating that blog, after having it be on hiatus for 3 years. I've dusted off the cobwebs and gave it a new layer of paint to freshen it up. My first review is of Divergent, and some of the issues in plot I had with it. Check it out.

In the meantime, I plan on making more writing based posts to fill this blog up. Right now I'm working on a post about likeable characters: do we have to like a character or not in order to have a good book?

If you have any other requests for writing based posts, or even just life stuff about me and my furry animals, please leave a comment or email me. I love hearing from you all.

Current Writing Shenanigans

So, I suppose I should write about what I've been up to, writing wise.

I usually work on two projects at once: drafting one novel, and editing another.

Unfortunately, uni hasn't been giving me enough time to develop a new concept, and to draft it too (that's going to be a NaNoWriMo thing, since I'll be done with uni forever), but I've been busy doing mass edits on one of my older projects, which some of my older readers from LiveJournal might remember, my NaNo novel from 2010, titled Fool's Gold.

At the moment, I'm in the midst of a complete rewrite of the first 3 chapters, after coming to the conclusion that the first chapter literally did nothing to further the story, other than a bit of worldbuilding and info dumping. Events that have happened in chapter 3 now happen in chapter 1, and it gets complicated after that, with bits and pieces from all those chapters happening in different places.

After that, chapters 15-18 are going to need to be scrapped and rewritten from scratch, because I was young and dumb and wrote awful things that my current feminist self cringes with disgust at.

I'm glad that I've finally decided to work on this novel 4 years after having drafted it. I've grown so much as a writer, Fool's Gold having been my second completed novel. Now in mid 2014, I've already written about six novels, in various stages of completion. I've discovered books that have helped me develop a vibrant voice, that have made me reconsider plot points, character development, and world-building.

I hate it when people call their books their babies, but this novel has been on my mind for almost 5 years, and it's finally so close to being queried to an agent. It's an exhilarating feeling knowing that I've worked so hard on it, and it's been 5 years in the making.

Keep an eye out for future posts on my progress.

Books I Read and Loved in 2014, Part 1

Hello wonderful readers, I'm on the cusp of the second half of the year, and I realise I haven't posted in months (I am pretty active on Instagram if anyone wants to follow me in my day to day life. Lots of pictures of my fur babies). So, I thought I'd talk about the books that I've read and loved in the first half of 2014. Currently, I'm sitting at 77 books read, but quite a few of them didn't really move me all that much.

I really need to post more often...

Dang, I haven't been here in ages. And I hate knowing that I've neglected this blog.
So, what have I been up to since January? Not much, really.

~

Started my last year of uni, with some classes that don't feel relevant to writing at all. But I did have to get myself an internship for one of my classes, and that worked out great. I got an internship at Little Raven Publishing, a small Australian-based erotic publisher, which was super fun. Something nice to add to my writer's resume. In the long run, I hope to get a job in the publishing industry.

~

Got diagnosed with bipolar disorder and OCD, and finally got treatment for it, which is, like, the best thing ever. My mood swings haven't been quite as intense, and it makes it easier for me to find the motivation to do more that just lie in bed with a book on my face and a dog on my legs, day after day.

Unfortunately, one of the side effects I've been getting is intense vertigo every time I stand up, but it's so worth it.

~

I guess you could say I'm the bees knees

Got another tattoo, and they're my favourite ones yet. Lately I've been really passionate about gardening and flowers, and the importance of bees. Also, it shows my love for puns. 

~

Officially came out as pansexual to my peers, which may have been the scariest, yet most exhilarating thing I've ever done.  I don't think I've ever felt prouder of myself, and relieved at all the positivity gained from it. 

~

Started plans for a new novel, and all I'm going to say about it for now is that it's a modern retelling of The Snow Queen, with mermaids, a guest appearance of Cthulhu, a damsel saving her knight in distress, and no love triangles whatsoever. More details to come as I go through it. 

~

And, saving the best for last, my family has grown by two! 

Meet Selina and Luna!

They already get along so well with Layla, in fact, Luna just adores Layla, and loves grooming and bopping her on the nose, as pictured.

So, that's been my life for the last few months. I hope I can post more frequently than before. Maybe at least once a month like I used to, at least a book haul or what I've read for the month, that sort of thing.

See ya next time!

January Book Haul

So... books. I got a lot of them this month. Christmas, birthday, and just a total irresponsibility when it comes to money results in this tonne of books.

Books read in January

This was a difficult month for me. I didn't get many books read, only 10, 3 of which were graphic novels.
It being the middle of summer, we've had weeks where doing anything but lying comatose in front of the air con was unbearable, with temperatures exceeding 40 degrees (Celsius, for all you American readers. You have the polar vortex, and we have Summerpocalypse.). And at the same time, depression got in the way, making it difficult to want to pick up books, even if they're wonderful and  make me feel good. I just felt so apathetic about it all.

But whatever, we're here to talk about books, aren't we?

Are Comics Real Books?

Ah, the great question. When I was in school, teachers would always tell off anyone who brought comics or graphic novels to silent reading time. "They're not books!" they would exclaim.
Aren't they?
They have words. They have a story, characters, conflict. They inflict a painful amount of feels at times. They discuss issues.
Is it that they have pictures that makes them not worthy of being called books?

To me, it seems snobby to claim that graphic novels don't count in literature.

Becky Cloonan has written a trilogy of sorts, The Ink and Thunder series, and each issue is a one-shot. They're carefully crafted, written, illustrated and inked by Becky herself. And I would call them literary-fantasy crossovers. There's a lot of hidden things in her work, imagery, symbolism, everything you'd find in a regular book.
I dare you to check them out. Each issue is only 99 cents on comixology.

So, what do you think about comics as books? Goodreads thankfully counts comics as books towards my yearly reading goal, since I've slowly started reading more comics than books lately.

A quick post to let you know that I'm not dead, and what I've been obsessing with lately

Apologies for not posting in several months. Especially after that last post wherein I talked in verbatim about my depression. I hope no one thought I'd pulled an Allie Brosh (her several months-long hiatus on Hyperbole and a Half, with no warning, after her own post on depression was an extremely worrying time for me.)
But I've been getting better. I think. My feelings have been going up and down, as to be expected with mental illnesses. But I've been dealing with it. I've made a new friend in my course, who quickly turned into my best friend. And this best friend introduced me to superheroes.

Now, I've read some comics before. I'd read the first 100-something issues of Fables, before getting sick of the convoluted, meandering plot. Ditto with The Walking Dead. But I'd found it difficult to get into superhero comics, mainly because, well, I found the Batman universe uninteresting and too male-angsty for me (Oh, Chris Nolan, please tone down the angst), just to name one example, and the comic community is severely anti-woman, as I've encountered.
But after reading some comics that he forced onto me (I completely recommend Loeb's Hush, Tomasi's Batman and Robin run (up until Damian dies), Simone's Brids of Prey run, and Dini's Gotham City Sirens run), I've become so in love with the feels that the superheroes give me.

So, I've decided, since I can't think about anything else, that I'll post a few things on various topics regarding comics.
Next post, which should be up within a few days, will be all about the disdain some people have for comics, and how they sometimes don't see comics and graphic novels as real literature, and how they're not real books.
I'll also be discussing feminism in comics (with a lot of vitriol at the New 52 Wonder Woman, and just Wonder Woman's current situation).
After that, I'll talk about writing in comics, which, as a novelist, I've discovered is incredibly ruthlessly difficult to grasp, but super incredibly fun.

I hope that this will help me keep consistent in posting often, and that I can rant happily about my new passions, and maybe even educate people.

Art and Insanity

It's become this thing to associate artists with mental illnesses. Virginia Woolf, Sylvia Plath, David Foster Wallace, Ernest Hemmingway (just to name a few) are all writers who committed suicide. Heck, there's even a wikipedia page on the link between creativity and mental illness.

Mental illness is something I think about often, since I suffer from quite a few different problems: anxiety, depression, and OCD. Who knows what other illnesses I might be harbouring in that brain of mine.

As much as I hate to say it, as a result of this connection between art and insanity, it makes me think of death in a very personal manner. Not in a "I think about killing myself" way (although, when the depression gets really bad, I suppose I can't help but think like that), but it makes me think of how torturous the life of an artist must be, that the mind breaks in such a way.

~

It's taken me two months to write this post. Sometimes, I delete every single word, because I worry it's too personal, and nobody wants to hear me whining about how sucky my life is. It's so difficult to put my thoughts down, to create something I feel happy with. I haven't written anything in ages. I find myself empty and lost when I try to conjure up some words. I feel like a failure when I can't produce perfection.

~

I've been skipping school a lot lately. I know I said I'd cut back on skipping classes, but these past few weeks, when I wake up, I just can't get out of bed. I dread facing the day ahead of me. The mere thought of being surrounded by hundreds of people in the city haunts me. So I just hide in my bed and wait for the feeling to pass.

It never does.

~

My doctor upped my antidepressant dose. It used to be 75mg, but my anxiety had begun to manifest in the form of stomach pains every time I ate, so now my meds are at 150mg. The side effects are annoying. I feel buzzed sometimes, as if my brain isn't really my brain. I space out sometimes. If I take my meds without any food, then I get so nauseous that I feel like I could throw up, but instead of throwing up, I sneeze.

I've been trying so hard to find a therapist, but it's near impossible to find affordable mental health care. And I need someone suited for my needs. My last therapist was great, but she flat out told me that she doesn't know how to deal with anxiety that manifests as OCD. How am I supposed to get better if the government basically doesn't want me to?

~

My passion for anything has diminished. I don't find absolute joy in writing anymore. I can't even lose myself in a book, and forget about the world around me, and my problems. I don't hang out with my friends because a part of me, the depressed part of me, tells me that I probably won't have any fun, that I'll be too busy worrying about everything to have fun.

~

I'm slowly punishing my body for having anxiety. I have a form of OCD called dermatillomania, which is essentially a compulsion to pick at the skin. As a result, my arms, shoulders, face and scalp are covered in sores and scabs. I have near-premanent semi-circles under my nails, of blood that's dried from red to brown to black.
I can't wear clothes that show my upper arms or back, because I'm terrified of people seeing the scars and the sores. I'm terrified of what they'll think of me. And it just makes me pick more and more.
On cold days, the scars on my wrists are so purple against my ghost-pale skin. It makes them so much more visible. I used to be so terrified that people would see them. One of my friends freaked out when she saw them. It made me feel like I'd done something bad. But it's so hard to hide them. I can't wear jumpers and long sleeved-shirts forever. I wish someone would just tell me that having these scars isn't such a big deal, and that I'm not weak for wanting to cut.

~

The nails on my left hand are warped from the way I chew and pick at them. I don't often pick with my right hand, nor do I chew on that hand, so the nails are long and strong. Healthy.

~

For uni, I had to write about a body part, and I wrote about my skin. I wrote about the hate I have for my dermatillomania, for the anxiety that makes me pick. It was the hardest thing I'd ever had to write. This is just as hard.

~

It's so hard to talk to people about this, simply because for the most part, they don't understand it. I've had so many people tell me to get over it, that I'm just overreacting, that I just need to cheer up, as if it were as simple as that. It just results in me feeling even more broken, because if it's that easy for other people, then why am I struggling so hard? Why can't I just snap my fingers and magically be happy again?

I guess this is why this post exists: so I can get things off my chest before I explode and do something irrational and stupid and possibly dangerous. This is very much a cry for attention and a cry for help. I do in fact want people to reach out to me. I mean, who doesn't?

It's nice to feel wanted and loved every once in a while.

~

I feel like I am a worthless human being right now. Because writing is the only thing I feel like I'm good at, the only thing I live for. But if I can't write, if I'm too mentally broken to write, where does that leave me?

Books Read in March

Well, this month has been a surprise.
I'd been expecting my reading rates to drop significantly, due to uni, but if anything, they've risen! Despite being so super busy, March has been the best reading month this year, having read 25 books. (Though, to be fair, some of them were graphic novels, and a small handful were super short, like, around 100 pages long, for classes.)
~ indicates a graphic novel

1. Wanderlust (Sirantha Jax, #2) - Anne Aguirre 4 stars
2. Lost Voices (Lost Voices, #1) - Sarah Porter 2 stars
3. Falling Kingdoms (Falling Kingdoms, #1) - Morgan Rhodes 3 stars
4. Daisy Miller - Henry James 3 stars
5. Fade Out (Morganville Vampires, #7) - Rachel Caine 3 stars
6. Lovely, Dark and Deep - Amy McNamara 4 stars
7. The Five People You Meet in Heaven - Mitch Albom 4 stars
8. To The Lighthouse - Virginia Woolf 4 stars
9. Trouble in Mind (Birds of Prey III, #1) - Duane Swierczynski & Jesus Saiz 5 stars + fave ~
10. Wonder Woman: Odyssey, vol 1 - J. Michael Strczynski 4 stars ~
11. Crank (Crank, #1) - Ellen Hopkins 3½ stars
12. Just One Day (Just One Day, #1) - Gayle Forman 3½ stars
13. Riveted (Iron Seas, #3) - Meljean Brooke 3 stars
14. Orlando - Virginia Woolf 4 stars
15. Vampire Academy (Vampire Academy Graphic Novel, #1) - Richelle Mead & Leigh Dragoon 3 stars ~
16. When We Wake - Karen Healey 4 stars
17. The Great Feminist Denial - Monica Dux & Zora Simic 3 stars
18. In the Penal Colony - Franz Kafka --
19. Paper Valentine - Brenna Yovanoff 3½ stars
20. Nevermore (Nevermore, #1) - Kelly Creagh 5 stars
21. Princess of the Midnight Ball (Princess, #1) - Jessica Day George 3 stars
22. The Dark Unwinding (The Dark Unwinding, #1) - Sharon Cameron 3½ stars
23. The Miseducation of Cameron Post - Emily M. Danforth 4 stars
24. The Time Keeper - Mitch Albom 2 stars
25. The Death of Oracle (Birds of Prey II, #2) - Gail Simone 4 stars ~

This month:
Pages: 7,054
Avg. Pages: 282 pages per book

Total:
Books read: 61
Pages: 19,214
Average Pages: 315 pages per book

As many books as I've read this month, when I was supposed to be studying, I don't think I'll be able to read even half as many during April. I have a lot of things due this month (including some flash fiction due tomorrow, an essay on Virginia Woolf, and a couple of workshopping sessions). Busy busy busy.

Books Read in February

Well, February was a surprising month. I read over twenty books, which kind of amazes me. I blame the fact that I'm on holidays. When school starts up (on Monday, eeep!) I probably won't have any time to read. I remember that last year, majority of my reading time was done on the train to and from uni, which is about an hour's ride each way.

I was surprised, though because I've been hard at work editing the manuscript for FG to send to some CPs (as I stated in a previous post). Most days were spent with several hours sitting in front of my laptop, with the rest of the day either watching tv shows (I managed to score the first 2 seasons of The Walking Dead, and the first seasons of Pretty Little Liars, Vampire Diaries, and Charmed from my local library), or reading. I think I'm going to miss these holidays.


1. Tell the Wolves I'm Home - Carol Rifka Brunt; 5 stars
2. The Wishing Spell (The Land of Stories, #1) - Chris Colfer; 2½ stars
3. The Age of Miracles - Karen Thompson Walker; 4½ stars
4. A Corner of White (The Colours of Madeleine, #1) - Jaclyn Moriarty; 5 stars
5. The Tea Rose (The Tea Rose, #1) - Jennifer Donnelly; 3½ stars
6. The Grimm Legacy (The Grimm Legacy, #1) - Polly Shulman; 3 stars
7. When We Were Executioners (Dogsland, #2) - J.M. McDermott; 3 stars
8. Dark Inside (Dark Inside, #1) - Jeyn Roberts; 3 stars
9. The Golden Lily (Bloodlines, #2) - Richelle Mead; 4½ stars
10. Amber House (Amber House, #1) - Kelly Moore, Tucker Reed & Larkin Reed; 4 stars
11. Gone, Gone, Gone - Hannah Moskowitz; 2 stars
12. Dragon Slippers (Dragon Slippers, #1) - Jessica Day George; 4 stars
13. Everybody Sees the Ants - A.S. King; 4 stars
14. The Lucky Ones (Bright Young Things, #3) - Anna Godbersen; 3½ stars
15. In Honor - Jessi Kirbi; 2½ stars
16. Starling (Starling, #1) - Lesley Livington; 3½ stars
17. Lord of Misrule (The Morganville Vampires, #5) - Rachel Caine; 3 stars
18. Carpe Corpus (The Morganville Vampires, #6) - Rachel Caine; 3½ stars
19. Mistwood (Mistwood, #1) - Leah Cypess; 4½ stars
20. Life Everlasting - Bernd Heinrich; 3 stars
21. All This Could End - Steph Bowe; 3½ stars


This month:
Pages: 6,832
Avg. pages: 325 pages per book

Total:
Books read: 36
Pages: 12,160
Avg. pages:  337 per book

The most important thing to note about this list is that this month, there are no faves. Sure, I gave some books quite high ratings (5 stars for both Tell the Wolves I'm Home and A Corner of White), but none of them really grabbed me, you know? Maybe this month just wasn't a lucky month, or maybe (I'm sure a lot of non-readers would argue this, like my mother), they've just become meaningless words, because I read too fast.

Nah, definitely not the latter, thank you very much.

I'll just have to read even more books to find a favourite.

I might be posting even less when the semester starts (what, like less than I already have been? HA HA HA), but monthly reading recaps will definitely be happening, because I'm obsessive about recording books. And it'll be one of those things to let you know I'm still alive and haven't been slobbered to death by the giant puppy.
This giant puppy:

I should totally end all blog posts with pictures of Layla, right? Right.

Auto-buy Authors

I don't usually participate in memes. Mostly because I find them somewhat annoying, and because I can never commit myself to actually posting regularly. Because I fail like that.

But today is different. I really like the question posed for today's Top Ten Tuesday (which is hosted by The Broke & The Bookish).
What authors are on your auto-buy list?

Palimpsest by Catherynne M. Valente

1. Catherynne M. Valente is one of my all time favourite authors. Her way with words break me. I've even been trying to get my hands on the hard to find, out of print stuff that she's published with small presses, and it really hurts my wallet, but makes my heart sing with joy.

2. David Mitchell. I tried his book, Cloud Atlas on a whim because I had heard about the gross white-washing that had been done in the movie, and I wanted to see if it was in any way justified (because it deals with a whole bunch of complicated reincarnations) (hint: it wasn't). After Cloud, I was hooked. I tried to get my hands on the rest of his work, and devoured them. As with Catherynne M. Valente, he has a way with words, though in a very different abstract sort of way. His metaphors evoke a surreal image, and I honestly can't handle how perfect it all is.

3. Juliet Marillier. Once again, I was hooked by beautiful words. Not only that, but her world-building, and the careful way she builds her characters leaves me breathless. Daughter of the Forest is a novel that left me depressed, disgusted, heartbroken, and elated.

The Snow Child by Eowyn Ivey

4. Eowyn Ivey. Even though she's only written one book, I know that she is an author I would love to read more from. She has a talent at making the reader feel completely immersed within the world of the book. When I was reading Snow Child, which is set in Alaska, I could feel the cold, hear the crunch of footsteps on ice, and the wail of a howling wind.

5. Alison Croggon. When I was a teen, I absolutely devoured her Pellinor series. I can still remember traces of her novels, and the feelings they made me feel. But when I picked up her newest novel, Black Spring, I fell in love with her work all over again.

6. Laini Taylor. As with every other author listed so far, Laini is mentioned because of her writing. Can you tell I'm a sucker for poetic prose?

7. Franny Billingsley. Again, pretty writing. Her stories are like fairy tales, they evoke a sense of wonder and beauty and magic. Love love love. I just wish that she wrote faster so that I could have more books to devour and cry over.

8. Cherie Priest. The first person on this list who isn't here because of pretty writing. Not that she writes bad or anything. I'm more interested in her imagination. I absolutely loved Boneshaker. The world, the characters, the atmosphere.

9. Neil Gaiman. Of course this man would be on this list. Of-freaking-course. This man is a crazed genius. American Gods is one of my all-time fave novels because of the original vision of mythology being pitted against modernism. And then there's the Sandman graphic novels. And his books for children. And his short stories. And his scripts for Doctor Who... There's just so much that this man has done, and it's all been practically perfect.

10. Alison Goodman. After falling in love with Eon and its sequel Eona, I knew that I had to have every single book that Goodman will ever write. She writes rich, vivid, well-researched worlds, that tackle social issues like femininity, transsexuality, spirituality etc, without feeling like you're being lectured. I love that sort of stuff.

So yeah, top ten authors that are on my auto-buy list.
Here, have a picture of Layla as a parting gift.