My Type of Heroine, and an Introduction to Your Next Read

She has to be:

Not always seventeen years old, a slender pale brunette with a hideous taste in cars and a preference for flannel shirts and jeans - and "falsely" modest. (Not to name names, but...certain characters boast a lot more than their authors think they do.)

It's perfectly alright for her to have both parents. Or, if she needs to have just one, please, please, PLEASE don't off the mother. If her death is absolutely necessary, then for the love of Heaven don't make it one of those cliche Disney "Mother, where are you?" moments. That has been too overdone, not to mention just sickening.

She doesn't have to be emotionally/economically/medically dependent on her love interest slash sparkly vampire and/or hairy guy passing off as a canine. If there is a love interest, it is much more fascinating and worthy to her character if sometimes she could do a fair enough job of saving HIM from himself.

Family morals aren't completely out of vogue. Just saying. The end of the story should end on a positive note, like the heroine discovering the cure for cancer or watching her crippled father take his first step. The plot isn't "a happy ending" simply because the girl and her fling are living in sin on some college campus in Anywhere, USA.

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Okay, so I might be a little too harsh, but seriously, what has happened to American authors and their originality? It seems like every next title being churned out involves some aspect of the paranormal, a weak, whining heroine who can barely tie her shoes by herself and has to be rescued by some pale, dark-eyed werebat or bloodsucking mosquito with the ability to glow in the dark from a mysterious society we only hear mentioned on page 230. 

This is another reason why I'm becoming so choosy about my reading material - especially after that whole Castle Cant fiasco last month. Even children's material this day seems to require a triple check through Goodreads, Amazon, and sometimes even word of mouth, in order to make sure I won't be stepping not into a blissful world of enchantment, but a smelly puddle of pig slop that will leave its stench on my battered imagination for days afterward.

Speaking of which, I did stumble on yet another book social networking tomorrow that might be of interest: YourNextRead.com.

I'm still having a bit of trouble figuring it out for myself, but the gist of it is that every book title you put in brings up several more (like a web of recommendations) that you might enjoy as well. Not all recommendations might be spot-on (ie. Harry Potter is connected to The Trouble with May Amelia - God knows who suggested that one), but once you have a username, you can help out by pointing out which connections don't make sense. You can also save book lists and import your GoodReads shelf - always a plus.

Of course, nothing beats being able to discover, and make your own mistakes, at your local library or bookstore, but it's always nice to find another way to organize.

As if I actually need another book social networking site.

A Happy Medium.

So recently I've been going through some uncertainty about what I should be reading - as in the constant advice more experienced authors give younger, fresh, hatchling writers (such as moi), which you might have heard yourself before: "READ A LOT."

But my question has always been, okay, you want me to read, but READ WHAT?

Ms. Wood suggested that I stay with the classics, such as Jane Eyre or works from Jane Austen, to achieve that moral-boosted, happy-ending sort of writing that I've always enjoyed. Anna Godberson pretty much said the same thing, suggesting that I stay away from current YA chart busters - coughcoughVAMPIREScoughcough - so I don't get inflicted, er, adversely inspired by them.

But, I think I have finally found which section of the library is safe for me to graze in without catching the unpleasant aura of Stephenie Meyer and those of her creed.

The Childrens' room.


Now, before you start laughing, hear me out. First off, the YA Room - at least in our library - really creeps me out. There's no more happiness in here, if you get what I mean. It's always blood-soaked fangs or some dead-eyed girl staring out at you from the shelves, and it just really gives me the heebie-jeebies to spend more than five minutes in there nowadays. Of course there are some goodies that I browse there for, and the fact that the manga section just got relocated there makes it pretty much unavoidable.

But the Children's section...that's where all the hidden gold is.

An example (and yes, there's nothing better than combining a random post with a promised review, is there?)

THEODOSIA AND THE SERPENT OF CHAOS by R.L. LaFevers  (as seen below)

I always have a weakness for a strong heroine, even if she is rather young, still is attached to her pet kitty and despises her pest of a younger brother. R.L. LaFevers delivers in a delightful, vintage tone that doesn't sound forced and feels authentically English (which, coming from a Californian, really shows that she did her research).

Theodosia's father might be the head curator of the museum, but it is young Theo who is able to sense - and neutralize - the ancient evils that still cling to the statues her adventurous American mother brings back from Egypt. Her little routine is abruptly thrown, though, with her mother's latest treasure: the Heart of Egypt, bearing a strong curse that can bring about the end of civilization.

And who do you think is going to have to save the world as we know it?

Not everything I find in the Kids' Room is as well-written or entertaining for a larger audience. There are the mundane, the childish, the unnaturally attached to fashion and a bit obsessed with pink. It's all about focusing on what you like - and what reminds me of those idyllic days a few years or so back in elementary school when I curled up in the yard with a good book and lost myself in times long past - and ultimately, the type of writing styles and subjects that I myself enjoy writing.

Someone Needs a Shove Off Her Chair, or, Why I Am Not Working on My Novel Like I Should

This is an exercise I've heard lauded by many famous wielders of the pen - most recently Libba Bray, who wrote a long rambling post on her LiveJournal about exactly why she had writers' block and was avoiding her computer like the plague.

So *deep breath* here goes.

Why I haven't written for the past few days, or, if I have, not much more than a little spoonful of words into the pot here and there. First of all, I, the commitment-snatching masochist that I am, signed up for the LJ Icon Challenge Disney 100 - to make 100 icons off Disney's concept art, which is my new addiction to search for/gawk at for hours on end. I mean, who knew that they were going to make Aladdin a little kid at first, or that Eugene Flynn Rider was this big friendly giant named Bastian?

And this one is priceless:

 

...Yes, that's the Beast.

Doing an Irish jig.

It seems like I'm too easily distracted these days, and in the last third or so of the draft too. I've started voraciously reading again - a hobby I thought had disappointingly slipped away from me at the advent of high school - and right now am working steadily through First Test by Tamora Pierce, as well as that oh-so addictive manga series Fruits Basket.

What?

There's just something about a smart-mouthed cat boy that makes my sides ache.

I need to write. I know I do. Maybe I'm getting tired of the dystopian genre - which has never been one of my favorites - and steampunk is calling to me, and it's beautiful outside and I want to go out and take a few rides on the swing in the fresh air, and there never seems to be enough time to get what I want out (even though it seems like I have endless time to browse through Tumblr).

And we don't have any tea left in the pantry.

I can't focus without my tea.

Maybe my problem is less of a writer's block and more of being hopelessly spoiled.