Wednesday, December 26, 2012

I feel like an owl

Over two months since my last blog...might be a little over due. But I do have, um, excuses as to why I haven't been blogging. Back in high school I wrote poetry. A lot of angsty, moody poems. I thought most of them were great. I captured the essence of my angst and hid them away so none of the, well, boys I wrote them about knew about them. I found the folder not too long ago and had to shove it back into the bookcase to keep from burning it. Gah, I was such a teenager!

But that's neither here nor there. Way back in high school, I noticed that journaling routinely kept me from being able to write poetry. I figured it was because journaling was a type of emotional release, i.e. "So-and-so smiled at me today. *sigh* What did it mean? Was he smiling at me? Or the girl behind me? After lunch, he said 'Hi' to me. Did me mean hi? Or hi?" You know, the important things girls in high school think about. So because I journaled about my confusion, I wasn't able to write a poem about it. Or at least not a good one I wanted to keep and sigh over later. "Brown hair and eyes of green/ which never had I seen/ look at me the way I knew/ I always looked at you." (Made that up on the spot--about the same quality of crap I wrote in high school!)

My story may not be the same sort of emotional release that writing poetry was and blogging's not the same sort of emotional release journaling was. At least not lately. But, my excuse, is that I noticed my writing on my story decreased when I was blogging more frequently. Was I pacifying that piece of me that needs to write just enough by blogging? Probably not. Probably I'm just using these excuses as, well, excuses as to why I'm not focusing more on what I should be doing--writing my story.

A good friend gave me a great idea. I asked awesome agent to give me a deadline for my next chunk of pages. Much to my delight, many of my As on papers in school were awarded to papers I wrote in haste the night before or the morning they were due. As of right now, my next 50 pages are "due" on February 4th. She gave me this "deadline" last week. Have I started yet? Pssh, please, of course not. Of course, my excuses now are Christmas and sickness and family and, and, and...I really, really, really want to impress her and get her my pages long before the deadline.

Now, why do I feel like an owl? I've been reading a lot of self-pub'd and indie books lately. Mostly because I'm cheap and I can get 3-4 books for the price of 1 traditionally pub'd book. With how I eat books, it makes more financial sense for me to do it this way. The most common grammatical error I come across in these books is their inability to use WHO. "I'm the girl that--" NO! It's WHO! "I'm the girl WHO--" "Sally's the barista that--" NO! WHO! "Sally's the barista WHO--!" When you're talking about a person, they're not "that".

Am I the grammar police? No. Should I be using whom instead of who in any of the examples above? Possibly. All I know is that using "that" is wrong and it's really becoming a pet peeve of mine. Along with changing tenses in the middle of a paragraph/story. "I was walking to school when I saw him. He is the one I've always loved." NO!!! Oh, and the lack of contractions! And the passive tense they use! Don't say "I was walking" say "I walked".

Arg, and commas. I am a comma lover, guilty of comma splicing all over the place. However, the one place I know for sure a comma is ALWAYS used is before and after a person's name when you're speaking to them. "Why are you always late Bob?" "Maybe because you never give me the comma I need, Bill."

I started with my excuses at the top because I thought my ranting about WHO wouldn't be long enough to justify a whole blog. But obviously I found more to moan and groan about. And I don't even want to know how many grammar/punctuation errors I made in this blog! All I know is I didn't misuse who/that, I didn't change tenses, and I don't have to worry about commas and names because I wasn't talking to you anyways.

Monday, September 17, 2012

Laundry is never done #writemotivation

Should totally be in bed right now, worked the last 3 nights and signed up for tonight and possibly tomorrow, but I need clean scrubs. The hospital might frown on me showing up in real pajamas. So I have about 20 minutes left on the washer before I throw the wet clean clothes in with the dry clean clothes still in the dryer. I'm running low on socks so I might actually have to put them all away at some point.

Accomplished one of my weekly goals last week--went to the gym three times! Yay, me! Went again this morning and I felt good as I was driving home. Almost satisfied, like my muscles were waiting for the workout and happy with what I did. *Sigh* Guess that means I'll be going again.

Got to finish one book while I was on the elliptical/treadmill. That accomplished my weekly goal from two weeks ago. In my defense, I started The Girl of Fire and Thrones but knew within the first chapter I was going to love it. Now I know what agents mean when they read a submission from a potential author. You. Just. Know. But I digress. After I got into the second chapter, I had to google the series to see when the second book comes out. Tomorrow. It comes out tomorrow. And that's almost too long a wait. I knew I'd be like this, antsy and impatient for the 2nd book, so I waited to read it until the release date was closer. But do you know what comes next? The wait for the 3rd book. Which I'm sure will be even worse because 2nd books tend to do that.

Let me just tell you how much I needed The Girl of Fire and Thrones. I read Struck beforehand and was kinda disappointed. The writing was good, but the story frustrated the crap out of me. I knew half-way through what the "plot twists" were going to be and the character's Lois-Lane-esque ignorance about another character's true identity made me want to face plant into the desk.

My biggest "Yay" moment was being able to send my awesome agent my next 50 pages. I think I might have bitten off more than I could chew by wanting to do 50 pages a week...but I did do about 30 pages in one day, so maybe I just need to keep reminding myself that I have a story I love that I want the world to love and I actually have to get it out of my head in order for that to happen. Do you notice this common theme in my posts? Get your head out of your a-- and get it done?! I do. :)

Monday, September 10, 2012

Mood Music #writemotivation

I remember friends in high school who had to study to music and it drove me nuts. Music distracted me. I didn't want to listen to it, I wanted to sing along. When I started writing my first book forever ago, I found myself writing on my laptop in the car. The hubs' conversations on his phone and with our passengers were beyond distracting and I started bringing along my headphones so I could tune them out (pun intended!). Now I can't seem to write without it.

Now here's the weird part--you know there had to be a weird part. I can't listen to a mash-up of all those genres. This past week proved it to me. I made a playlist of all my music in iTunes from The Band Perry to Journey to Def Leopard to Seether to Taylor Swift to Jessie James to Usher. I couldn't get myself to focus on a single freaking thing. Tuesday I wrote about ten pages that I deleted on Wednesday and rewrote another 6. About half of those pages were deleted on Thursday and I proceeded to write another 22 pages.

What was the difference? I put on Pandora to today's country music. I know, I know. It must be living here in Lower Alabama that has me hooked on the Country. But it's really not my fault--if the pop stations wouldn't play mainstream versions of Taylor Swift or Lady Antebellum or The Band Perry, I wouldn't pull up a playlist on Pandora for The Band Perry. And I wouldn't hear other artists I like as much. And I wouldn't give in and stream pure country music. In my defense, there's a bunch of twangy artists I block, but still. I'm listening to country music.

And here I'll put the breaks on to keep myself from being even more defensive! *Takes deep breath* I. Like. Country. Music. Deal with it.

The purpose of my rambling? My writemotivation goals from last week. Technically I revised 38 pages last week, even though only 22 stuck at the end. That's 12 pages short of my goal. Instead of focusing on the fact that I didn't meet my goal, here's my motivational thought for the day--This is a new week. A new week where I can accomplish the goals I set for myself. I don't have to worry about last week, just look forward to this week. And I'm going to kick ass at it!

Worked out yesterday and today (Yay!). Yesterday was a dud on the epiphanies, but today landed me a pretty darn good one. The reason I stopped writing Thursday was because I got stuck. I knew I should go back and write more about an important event in one of my character's lives, but I cut it short. Way short. And while I was on the treadmill today thinking about it, I remembered this--publishers are always going to cut words. Why aren't I writing all of it? If it's too wordy or not necessary, they'll be quick to massacre it with a red pen. So this evening, when I get up from my nap, that's the second thing I'm going to do. The first is correct all the embarrassing typos and grammar errors I found as I read through my pages this weekend. *Smacks palm to forehead*

So there we are. Mood music and epiphanies. Sounds like a great way to start the week!

Tuesday, September 4, 2012

#writemotivation Hello, September

Awesome agent signed an awesome writer several months ago. She has this crazy thing she does every month to keep writers motivated and focused. Whoda thunk it? Make goals, tweet and blog your progress, be cheered on by other writers. Insanity, right? :) My stubborn self finally realized I need something like this to keep me accountable for the writing I need to be doing.

It's super easy to let my mind wander, download a new book...find anything else to do beside write. There's no reason why my revisions aren't getting done--it's all on my head.

So here are my goals:

1.) Revise/rewrite at least 50 pages/week on IMMUNITY draft 3.2.

2.) Read at least 1 YA book in the same genre as mine a week.

3.) Get to the gym at least 3xs/week

4.) Tweet at least once a day on something writing/read relevant.

Part of write motivation is blogging once a week. That and the tweeting are gonna be the hardest goals. Reading 1 YA book will be the easiest. Don't get me wrong, there will be much more reading going on, but at least one of the books I'll be reading will be a YA book. *sigh* If you knew all the "trash" I read...all that time could, should, be put towards writing.

Here's where I'm starting:

1.) On page 57 of my revisions, 14, 217 words. Goal my the end of this week is page 107, if not further. This isn't that difficult. It's all rearranging stuff from the previous draft and adding some new scenes. All of it's already in my mind, ready to get onto the page, it's just up to me to get it done.

2.) *Shhhh* Don't tell the hubby about all the unread YA books on my Nook. I have plenty of choices. Let's see, I think I'll read The Girl of Fire and Thorns by Rae Carson.

3.) Getting to the gym serves two purposes--the first, I lost a lot of weight after I evicted my gallbladder and I'd like to keep it off and maybe lose a little more. Second, I've had many an epiphany while on the treadmill. Maybe it's the increase in blood flow, better perfusion to the brain, or there's nothing really to do but think while you're going for those 30 minutes...whatever the reason, it helps me write better and move past places I get stuck.

4.) Tweeting. I like to binge tweet. A day or two will pass without me even checking twitter, then I'll get on and tweet like there's no tomorrow. I need to increase my followers and to do that I need to tweet more.

Now on to the revisions. Doing this blog was kinda my way of procrastinating the writing :) Actually, I think I'll go ahead and get on KT's blog and follow all the other write motivation peeps. Then I'll write. I swear. I'm getting to it right after that...

Saturday, September 1, 2012

Superstitious or just crazy?

Do I think last month holds some sort of personal grudge against me? Not really. Has nothing bad happened in my life in any of the other 11 months? No, plenty's happened. But the last 31 days holds a special horror for me. In case anyone's curious or even cares, here's why I'm a little superstitious (aka crazy) about the 8th calender month.

Seven years ago my hubby and I moved to Pensacola. August 20 we boarded our two Iggys, Prancer and Shadow, in order to fly to Orlando and complete our move. Eight hours after we left them at a vet we'd never used before, that vet called and told us Prancer had somehow escaped and was missing. This wasn't the first time Prancer had Houdini'd his way out of a fence and we warned them he'd try. They didn't take us seriously and put him in a run that already had gaps in it. He has a microchip, but that only helps if the people who find him turn him into a vet or a facility that can scan for microchips. 7 years later, we still don't know if he was picked up or run over, if he's alive or dead. Prancer's the first dog I ever bought--me and the hubby got him together right after we got married. We only had him a year but he was very much MY dog.

The vet offered the $500 reward, but almost two months later, there was still no news. They offered to "compensate us for our loss" by buying us a new dog. I said hell yeah. You notice how whenever you replace something you thought you lost around your house, it always turns up right after. I figured that's what would happen with Prancer. We'd get this new dog and Prancer'd show up. There was a horrible thought--3 dogs. That was just crazy.

So in October, 2005, the vet bought us Ashton, a 14 week Italian Greyhound with championship bloodlines. He cost over double the reward. I resented him immediately. He didn't snuggle like Prancer, didn't trust us like Prancer. He just wasn't Prancer. But he was all puppy. And as he grew out of puppy, he became a momma's boy. My 8 month old baby decided to take Shadow up on her offer when she went into heat. May 7, 2006, Shadow gave birth to 5 beautiful pups. We were able to sell three and were planning on keeping one, the only gray one out of the bunch. For whatever reason, no one wanted the big boy. There were two boys born. One was almost completely black so we called him Smokey. Can't have a Smokey without a Bandit.Smokey sold to be renamed Dash and the other two girls went to family friends in Orlando.

Now there were four. We thought three would be a lot, we got to see how it went with four. Shadow made it understood immediately that she was Alpha, Queen. Sasha slid right up under here and too the Beta position. The boys really didn't care. Ashton was happy as long as I was around and Bandit clung to and followed his sister every where.

For four years, the puppies played, got their shots, got cleanings done, the girls got fixed. We got to see their individual personalities, how they played in the yard. Sasha loved to wait on the porch for Bandit to come in. She'd lay low and watch him and as soon as he walked towards the screen she'd spring out at him and pounce. If they were a pack, it was in the best way.

In July 2010, I started working my butt off to buy an alienware laptop. Every extra shift I could get, I took. By the second good paycheck, Bandit was sick. He developed autoimmune hemalytic anemia. The gyst is his body decided it didn't like his red blood cells anymore and began destroying them. We put him on crazy high doses of steroids and antibiotics to try to kick him into remission. It didn't work. His blood levels got too low so we tried an infusion of blood. All that did was give his body more to destroy. Our vet called a contact at Auburn and we decided to give Bandit one round of chemo--if you shut down the immune system, you'll shut down the immune attack on the red blood cells. But nothing worked. Finally his blood levels reached critically low and we had to make a choice--give him another blood transfusion, but at a risk. His body would probably reject the new blood and it would cause total body shut down. Or, we accept that he's suffering--his paws were so swollen the skin split, he couldn't get comfortable at all the night before. We think he knew and the other dogs knew his system was shutting down. On August 11, 2010, we put Bandit down--an alert, awake puppy who loved his sister. One moment his eyes were open, his heart was beating, the next his heart had stopped and he was gone.It was horrible, absolutely horrible.That life that was right there in your arms, just gone. It's too late to try to get it back. All you can hope for is that you did everything you could. And we really think we did.

The next week at work, I made the biggest safe of my entire career. I was so focused on this patient, that at 3am when I noticed he was having major neurological and vital sign changes, I called the neurosurgeon on call, told her the patient's symptoms. She came to the hospital immediately and took him right to surgery. At 7am that morning, she called from the OR to thank me for catching what I saw. I had truly saved that kids life. That meant so much more because of everything I had just gone through with Bandit. I might have gotten a little proud, but who wouldn't. That's why I'm a nurse, to save lives.

That Saturday, I came home from work and noticed Ashton limping--his back was arched and tight and he was walking in a way that guarded him from really touching the ground with his back feet. I took him into the Vet and the vet showed me how tense his muscles around the spinal cord were. He gave him a shot of steroids and oral pain killers--he thought maybe he had a lesion on his spinal cord. I went back to work that night, checking up on him with my hubby. He told me Ashton had jumped off the couch and was walking normal. I was so happy. That was my baby, my monster, my momma's boy. I came home Sunday morning to let him out of the laundry room and he wouldn't move. His tail wagged and he turned his head towards me, but he wouldn't look at me. I took my finger and pointed at his eye, moving it closer and closer until I touched it. He didn't react until I touched his eye. I freaked. I picked him up and told my husband that I thought Ashton was blind. Within 10 minutes, he had a full left sided seizure that lasted less than 3 minutes. With it being a weekend, we had to take him to the emergency vet. Ashton seized two more times, each time stiffening his legs, arching his back and screaming. The seizure must have affected his vocal cords some way because with each seizure he screamed. At the vet, they gave him an immediate dose of valiuum and brought him into the room for us to see while we decided what tests and medications we were going to do--everything has to be decided upon and paid up front. None of the tests they wanted to run were pertinent to what was going on, so we stuck with putting our money towards medications. Long lasting seizure meds, a med to decrease pressure in the csf. I called before work to check on him, he was sedated from his meds but stable. I called at midnight, same. I called at 3am, same. They called me at 4 to tell me he can't keep his temperature up and he's seizing more. If I wanted to see Ashton before he died I needed to get there now. A wonderful friend from work drove me to the vet while I waited for my husband to wake up and drive safely there to meet me. He had at least 6 seizures after I got there--each getting progressively worse until finally they had to use an anesthetic to make it stop. I knew that if he seized through that anesthetic it was the end. There'd be no turning back. You can't intubate and sedate a dog for days until they're through their episode like you can a human. Well, you probably can, but the cost makes it impossible. When Ashton screamed through the anesthesia, chewed on his tongue and twitched despite all the medication he'd been on, we knew. We had to let him go. My baby, my monster, "Ashton's kisses make the world a better place" had to leave me. And it was horrible. I don't know if it was so bad because we had just lost Bandit 19 days earlier or if it was because he was my Ashton. We'll never know whatever it was that cause him to seize until he had to be put down. We could have done an autopsy--but we still owed our vet money from Bandit's treatment and the emergency vet bill was over $1k before cremating.

August 30 took Ashton. After Ashton, I was done. Completley, 100% done with that month. All three of my boys were taken from me in that month and I just can't accept that. Maybe I'm going over board, they are only animals. But they were my babies. We don't have kids, we have our dogs. They sleep in bed with us, snuggle with us on the couch, can sense when we're upset and offer us the comfort of their cuddle.

To put the icing on the cake, last year, in August, we were driving home around 11pm on a dark highway. A big mastiff was meandering across the road. We didn't see it and it didn't see us. We might have been able to swerve out of the way, but at the risk of flipping our vehicle. We hit him head on and the only good thing is he died instantly. I don't know what I would have done if he'd been wounded, needing help.

So this is my craziness. Some of you will mock me and I don't care. I didn't write this for any reason other than the people who've asked why I ignore last month, why it no longer exists to me. I think it's valid reasons. Now I have my superstitions, I won't take my dogs to the vet that month. I won't talk about anything bad happening to them that month. I try not to talk about that month at all.

Friday, August 17, 2012

If you don't write it someone else will.

There's a TV show coming out this fall that I need everyone to not watch. Seriously. It's like they knew I named a major event in my book The Blackout and found it to be as brilliant an occurrence as I did. But, you see, NBC has a lot more money than me and can produce things a lot faster than I can. They're splashing their commercials everywhere, talking about this show that takes place 15 years after the Blackout.

I wish I could really ask you to not watch the show. If it takes off, I'll have to find another name for my Blackout and I might come up with something flowery and silly like the never ending night or something. (Please, steal that, let me keep my Blackout).

This is more for anyone with an idea in your head, something you've been wanting to write but haven't for whatever reason. Ideas seem to come in cycles. The TWILIGHT series wasn't the first vampire love story, just the most popular. It did lead to a huge inundation of those books being published (most agents and publishers won't even look at your MS if it's about vampires). It was followed by fairies and now mermaids. (The most awesome mermaid book of course being OF POSEIDON, btw).

My awesome agent called me about a month ago to tell me there's another book in the process of being published that uses another major term in my book. I had to come up with a completely new name for this race of people. Someone else somewhere in the world thought the word that's the most perfect word in the world for my people is also perfect for her people. Did that make any sense? And no, I'm not telling you what it is.

These are major hurdles to overcome. I'm working on my third round of revisions, having accepted many of the changes needed to make my story better. This other book being published with MY term really threw me. It wasn't writer's block. I knew exactly what needed to be written, how the story was going to progress. I have an outline and everything. But I was so depressed that someone else had gotten there first.

And there's not really anything I can do about it. Except put on my big girl panties and move forward. If I let these things keep me from writing a story for my agent to sell, there's going to be even more things other people are stealing from my brilliant mind that I'm going to have to change.

Write, write, write! If you're not writing, someone else is--and they might be writing your story.

Monday, July 2, 2012

Damsel In Distress Say What?

I worked all night and got in a very inspiring twenty minute conversation with my awesome agent first thing this morning. I've been trying to sleep now for three hours, but my brain's chugging away and this post has been writing itself in my head for about a week now. So maybe if I hash it out, I'll be able to get a decent nap in. (Any errors in spelling, grammar, punctuation, and overdose of -ly words are the complete fault of the late hour :)

Growing up, I loved Disney movies--my favorite being Sleeping Beauty, still is. The heroine is rescued by the hero/love interest...the damsel in distress. But in the books I've been reading recently, fairly popular ones at that, the heroine has saved the hero in some way. The hero is flawed, usually severely, and there's something special about the heroine that saves him.

The best Disney movie to illustrate that would be Beauty and the Beast. Beast is flawed. He has a temper, major rage issues, and is selfish. Belle saves him, makes him human. Besides Aurura (sleeping beauty), Belle is my favorite Disney princess. Probably because she's an obsessive reader like myself. She sacrifices herself to save her father, and in the process saves Beast. There's darkness in him, burying any light that might still live inside him. Something about Belle unearths that light, revives the human inside of him.Yes, Beast throws Gaston off the castle turrets, saving Belle, but Belle's love saves him.

Christian Grey is beyond flawed. In 50 Shades of Grey, all I could think was how completely stupid Anastasia Steele was for spending any time at all with Christian. If she was my best friend, even a random stranger, I would have encouraged her to run as fast and as far away from him as possible. (SPOILER ALERT) She does at the end of the first book, but not really for the right reasons. (I'm not really ruining anything here--there's two more books, obviously they find a way to overcome.) Whether it's because she's his soul mate, his other perfect half, chemically or pheromone-ally appealing to Christian, he is unable to stay away from her. SHE saves HIM in the end. She fights for him, with him and with others, refusing to abandon him. She makes him a better person, and for HER he wants to be and makes an effort to be.

Beautiful Disaster by Jamie McGuire has another "hero", Travis, who the main character, Abby, should have run from as fast as she can. He drinks, is drunk, frequently (though he's underage); fights in an underground fight club at the college; is jealous, possessive and obsessive, not to mention his promiscuity. The author makes an extremely valid point when Abby's, aka Pigeon (which is so beyond derogatory when you look it up on urban dictionary and I can't believe the author tried to make it a complimentary nickname), roommate says, "Do you know what co-dependency is, Abby? Your boyfriend is a prime example, which is creepy considering he went from having no respect for women at all to thinking he needs you to breath." (pg 125). Travis goes from endless one-night stands, to monogamy. Abby's the only girl in his bed (ever), the only one to sleep over, the only one he ever says "I love you" to. While there are so many things wrong with Travis' attitude and his reactions, temper, etc, the complete ability of one woman to change him and make him better...lack of sleep isn't helping me word it well.

Maybe this will--why be the damsel in distress, rescued by a prince/hero, when you can do the rescuing? In reality, no woman wants an obsessive, possessive, insecure, needy, screwed-up man, who's boinked his way through tens and hundreds of other women, clinging to them as their one and only salvation.Yes, I love Aurora and Prince Phillip and how HIS kiss, his love, awakens her. (More realistic than Snow White where the Prince has never met her, kisses her, and they live happily ever after--Phillip and Aurora knew each other, albeit not well, but "once upon a dream" at least). But, in books right now, I'm in love with the idea of a man with many flaws who is irrevocably changed by a woman. SHE saves HIM.

I guess the whole purpose of this blog is try to make sense of my, and many others, obsession with reading and re-reading books like 50 Shades and Beautiful Disaster. Do I want a man who sees himself as a sadist, who enjoys bringing pain to people? No (however some of the other things...probably). Do I want a man who pancakes completely from womanizing to commitment, and sucks on tighter than a leech? No. Do I want to read about it, see the woman change the man, make him a better person and imagine them living happily ever after? If you could see the books on my Nook, you'd know that answer's Yes.

Monday, April 9, 2012

Happily Ever After

There's a new series out that housewives across America are jumping all over themselves to read. I'll confess-I've read it to (but I'm not naming names, so you can't really judge me!). The writing's not the best, she repeats the same words and phrases frequently, and it can be down right annoying at times. But I Love the way she ended the series. I feel satisfied and complete, knowing this fantasy fiction people in a completely fantasy land universe are okay and going to be okay.

Handle With Care by Jodi Piccoult--very well written, emotionally heart wrenching. You fall in love with the daughter who has osteogenesis imperfecta (brittle bone disease), you learn to love/hate the Mom, and the other characters in the book develop well, too. However, because of how she ended that book, I will forever proclaim how much I hate it. I will never recommend it and I hate my coworker for forcing me to read it. Now, I've loved other books from her that I've read. My Sister's Keeper does not have the happiest ending, but it's one, as a reader, I can accept. But endings matter to me, and this one is horrible. I even picked up the book in Walmart and held it in front of my husband's face, waving and it proclaiming, "Worst ending ever. Worst. Ending. Ever." He thought I was nuts and didn't understand--but he's not a reader so he wouldn't. I'm sure there are hundreds of books where the authors end the story with a tragic twist--I don't know if it's because they're trying to shock the reader or if they felt it's the way the story was supposed to go, how the story wrote itself in their head. However Jodi Piccoult envisioned that ending, it wasn't one I like or can happily pass on to other readers.

I read a sequel in a YA series a month after I bought it. I knew the author was going to break up one couple because the female main character really belonged with another male. I knew it. But I loved this couple, loved the boy and loved how the girl was when she was with the boy. And I dreaded reading the book because I didn't want to hate the author. I Love the first book in the series. Have read it repeatedly. But I let the sequel sit on my nook for a good month because I was scared of how I would react. It made me cry, it made me laugh, and I was able to approve of the way she did things. My husband thought I was nuts when I put my nook down and smiled, saying, "I'm okay with it." He asked, "Do you think the author really cares?" And I answered, "Yes." Because I would want you to be. But she wrote it well enough and the storyline flowed so it was realistic. And there's still a third book to come out. Do I think the first boy will get back with the girl? No, definitely not. He might prove a stumbling block for the relationship between the second boy and the girl. But knowing there's more coming, makes it easier to be okay with how authors end some books.

Endings to first books, second books, even seventh books, can leave you hanging, making you angry, anxious and ready to scream because you have to wait six months to a year for the next book to come out and tell you what happens. Which is okay, because as long as I know the characters still have the potential for their Happily Ever After, I can wait.