One way a blogger could judge their success could be access to ARCs. Let's be very honest: if you can access them, that means you've done a great job of building an audience, connecting with the industry, and are a fairly consistent and proficient reviewer. It's the reason Mari and I joined NetGalley. It's part of the blogging game.

I'm a massive failure on NetGalley, and honestly, that's because the titles I read there are not the ones I crave. I don't have access to those, and building my way up to those is something I'm not ready for any more. College shocked me with the complexity and the length of readings I had to do, and being the overachiever that I am, I read every one of them and wrote notes too. By the time I got around to leisurely reading, my brain was fried and my vision was blurry. It was probably also around 2am.

I had a goal to read 100 books this year. It's an arrestingly pedestrian amount compared to the 300 I did during high school that one year, but I'm extremely behind on account of reading too little during university. So, now that I'm enjoying my summer break, I'm looking to get back in the reading game (in which I'm like 25 books behind on my challenge!). I can read a book extremely quickly, but, as I've matured too, I've realized that I want to read books I'll love.



I think I'm going to retire being a reviewer and go back to being a reader. You may have noticed that my last few reviews are less technical. I've tried to emphasize creative writing and really write my opinion as honestly as I can. That's because I don't really want to judge books. I don't want to write about their merits or failures. I just want to write about books I enjoy.

When you're reviewing books that haven't come out, it's really like stabbing in the dark. Let's be very honest: judging a book by its cover or even synopsis does not always work, and it's a little bit tiring to continuously read books that aren't 'my type'. You read the book, not knowing what to expect, and you formulate an opinion. I've reviewed books I knew nothing about that I loved. I've also read a whole bunch of 'meh' books because I was excited that people were offering me stuff to review.

I don't want to do that. I don't want to spend my time arbitrarily deciding what is good or not. I want to read good things. I want to enjoy them. That means that unless I get my hands on an author I know I'll love (a Maggie Stiefvater, or Holly Black type book) or a series, or even a book I feel extremely excited for, I'm extremely comfortable letting it go. I'm okay with letting other brave readers try the pages and I love reading others' reviews before deciding if it's right for me. (As an aside, I might be one of the few bloggers that enjoys commenting on reviews the most.)

This way, I've been reading phenomenal books. I'm excited about everything I read and I'm always looking for hidden gems: books that are not publicized widely, but are dearly loved by the majority of readers. I always change my reading philosophy, so I can't definitively say that this is the best philosophy for me, but I'm in a point in my life where I feel this works.

What do you think? Do you like reading reviews and knowing what you're getting into, or do you enjoy being one of the first few to experience a story?

-P.E.

I love being a nerd. Being a nerd is about having the passion to truly care for something. This sounds like nothing, but it's a lot harder than it seems. People will disparage what you love, and sometimes for good reason. I think it's easier not to care, and I've definitely been there.

But I can't stay for long, because I love what I love. I love it deeply, and maybe in a different way than others because I rarely reveal just how much I love something. But I think I'm loyal to what I love (and in general, I'm stubborn as hell) and sometimes I almost want to hide it from other people because I don't want their influence on it. But eventually, I will share it, and with certain people. 

Mari is one of those people. She's my co-blogger, which means that we're sharing one of the previously most sacred things to me: a blog. Books. My first blog was established in secrecy because I was obsessed with this being something I built up on my own, based entirely upon my own merit. This blog, however, is meant to reflect me and my personality, and is almost a symbol of our friendship. We share this, and it's our baby.

I love this blog like Dean loves his impala. (It's my baby!)

I want to share what I love, and Mari is one of my favourite people for that. I send her so much content and I don't expect her to love all of it (although it wouldn't have killed her to read that Atlantic article about Vladimir Putin!). 

It's just that there's this incredible joy when you find something to love, and it's almost a surprise because everything in the universe had to align just so before you could find that thing that brings joy. I'm always surprised when I find something I love because it's so random. It gives this lovely sunshine-ish feeling and I end up humming songs like "I'm Walking on Sunshine" and maybe skipping and smiling randomly when I remember something I particularly loved, and it's such a great feeling that is under-appreciated because it's so random. It's hard to know when something will click in a certain way like that so when it does, it feels precious. It feels like something I want to protect. 

It's also fragile. I know things had to align for a certain way for me to love something, so I'm so careful about the way I treat it. I like to keep it mostly close to me. But sometimes, I can't help it. I think something all bloggers have in common is our desire to share our passions. I want to do it as honestly as I can, and sometimes I don't want to because I don't want to explain myself. I just want to love what I love. But the next level of being a fan is fandom. 

Fandom terrifies me because it goes against that keeping cards close mentality I can sometimes have. I don't think I'll ever be comfortable enough to engage fully in fandom, especially of the Tumblr variety (although I will follow the blogs and I think the gifmakers are amazing and wish I could credit them more), so I'm just happy if I can have someone I talk to who understands my intense love for something. 

Mari, look at this! Love it like I do!

I want Mari to love what I love. She has a harder time finishing books than I do, so I always feel like helping her find her next love. I want her to read what I read and genuinely love it. I know she's scared of disappointing me by not loving it. Well, I don't want her to feel that way. I don't want her to feel bad about not loving what I love, which is only natural when it comes to human beings. That being said, every time I try to get her to watch something, it is something I truly love. 

It's a little bit like putting myself out there. I declare that this thing is something I love, and I hope my friend likes it too. I want to share something else with someone I trust, and fangirling is so much more fun when someone else can participate. Concurrently, I don't want her to feel obliged to enjoy something just like I did. 

I want her to find the same joy I have with something in the world, and I guess the difficult part of this is that regardless of how much love I have for something, sometimes she won't reciprocate. And that's something I live with. By no means is it a major burden, but I think it's just such a sweet part of friendship; to share what one loves.

-P.E.

Monday, May 25, 2015

Dear Reader,

Today, I decided to invest in a multi-purpose leather-bound journal. It's not exactly a diary, agenda or a simple notebook. I'm not an artist and hence it's not my artsy doodle/art book. But picking it out and buying it was one of the most fun things. 

As a kid, I adored the idea of having a diary to record my thoughts. But as I grew up, the idea of perfection took over. I still wanted a journal, but I wanted the things written in it to matter. I wanted them to be well written and pretty, as well. The problem with free hand writing is, perfection is hard to get especially with my wobbly handwriting. It's surely not like typing where errors can be easily backspaced out of existence and bad formatting can be quickly fixed. Writing in a journal is a one draft activity and it's terrifying to a person so out of practice.

Today I wrote my first entry, and it was a bit of a disaster but I'm a little bit of a disaster and I love myself very much. I also loved the moments I spend sitting tucked away in a corner seat at Starbucks and writing that post with the smell of leather wafting of my new baby.

Writing free hand is very different from typing. They summon different words, they take different forms and while anything you write stays on the internet forever. Things you write in your journal stay close to you forever.

I hope to take my journal around with me everywhere. I want to write recipes, music recommendations, to-do lists, book ideas, blog posts and reviews in it. It'll embody my art that often takes the shape of a not-so-eloquently-but-uniquely-Mari group of words. 

-MARI

Instagram: thesireniccodex

I know everyone hates it.

The story is almost over, and it's wrapped up, but nope, the author is not a decent human being.

The author is some cruel, scary person that drinks the tears of their readers, and in the last few chapters of their book, they decide not to wrap up the story like every sane individual would say they should. Instead, they choose a far more nefarious path. They decide to include a cliffhanger.

And the reader goes through the book, expecting a slow decrescendo of action, only to get slapped in the face- no, punched in the gut- by the author's cliffhanger.

Authors be like..

Everyone hates cliffhangers. Stories should be self contained. They should end. And, come on, what the hell is up for leaving readers in suspense for a whole year as they wait for the new book to come out? It's one year. Something so sudden can't just be sprung up on a reader.

I see why people don't like cliffhangers, but I've always liked them.

First, I don't understand this book obsession with completing a story. Why do people desire such perfectly self-contained reads? I'm not one to seek out standalones, and this is because I like the longer, complex story that usually has the character going through a larger journey. The more details and plot twists, the better, as long as they're done well.

Thanks Funny or Die!

The second part to cliffhangers is that I review books right after I read them. This evidently means my review is very well measured. In reality, the way I feel about the ending is weighted extremely heavily. So, if the ending is shocking and leaves me craving for more, my review will be gushy and all "Nooooo whyyy is there no morreeee". In fact, wanting more is often viewed as a positive, so if an author can achieve that, I'll often review their stories more favourably.

The last part of it is that I like having some time to imagine what the next story is like. There's a whole year to build up anticipation and wonder what will happen to the characters. What better way to end an essay with a punch line? Well, cliffhangers are the same. They're punches. They're memorable, and show that the author knows where they're going. To me, they say, "Well if you liked this one, you won't believe what happpens in the sequel!" And this excites me. It's what makes me write in my reviews that a story has promise. Because a cliffhanger is a promise that something exciting will be happening.

Cliffhangers often occur in high action or drama stories, and provided I enjoyed the book, I always enjoy the cliffhanger. Rick Riordan is especially famous for this, and his "rickhangers" are horrible, amazing, maddening masterpieces. I love them because they allude to a bigger and better story.

Cliffhangers are not just awesome, they're the shit.

-P.E.

A discussion between P.E. & Mari.

Mari: This summer marks our entrance into the "real world", whatever that's supposed to be, and it makes me wonder, what does this mean for our reading choices? Do you wish to continue reading YA lit or are you starting to branch out? Do you think there is a certain age for certain books and is there a type that may have once suited you but you don't think it will from now on?

P.E.: Absolutely. You've noticed that I've given stories I think are light very low ratings because I'm looking for a certain level of complexity in what I read. I do wish to continue reading YA, but I'm also hoping to branch out into some adult fic, with some stories that make me think about the world. I won't read any more of the "rich kid" chick lit stuff even though I used to be a big fan. I'm also not really the biggest fan of reading books about kids much younger than me, so I'm reading around my age (17). How about you?

Mari: I tried many types of books over the years and I think at this point I've come to realize what I enjoy. I will not be reading any freshman year books about just going into high school. Those stories don't appeal to me anymore. Been there, done that; I'm moving on. I like a certain level of "lightness" in my reads but it's not the same for fantasy. I don't much like light paranormal romance stories and don't think I will continue with them. I also want to delve into the adult genre a little, I'm very interested in the fantasy and historical romances. I also want to read more classics, hopefully at least one a year. Mostly I want to branch out and become more diverse. Is there a certain genre you're interested in trying?

P.E.: I'm interested in trying more books about real life. I want to hear real stories about power, success, fame, fortune, danger. I want to be inspired by real people. I guess I'm at a point in my life where I'm realizing that everything I wanted isn't some kind of pretend fantasy. I can actually do a lot of what I want, and I want to explore the wonders of this world, not just a fantasy world. I want to explore memoirs, biographies, and the such. Also, even better if the story is one of those that is deep and inspirational. Is that weird?

Mari: I think HRC is getting to you! Haha I guess its not weird. I personally am not ready to leave my fantasy world. I read articles and such on the side and that's my dose of reality and I'm happy with that. Reading is for pure enjoyment. But that's just the different type of readers that we are. I read to journey out of myself for a bit and enjoy something different. You may do the same but you also look for inspiration in your books.

P.E.: Hmm maybe. I still haven't finished it though. It's such a looonng read. 

There's a fair bit of this going on, too. 

I think in general, I want everything I do to have meaning. I mean, I want to be entertained, and I want to escape. But I'm also looking for books that transcend entertainment and turn into actual experiences for me, from which I can learn from and come back to. Although I don't think that's my reading future. However, I seldom have a list of books to read if it isn't an ARC, so it's not like I'll be ditching YA anytime soon.

Mari: I second that. We both plan on expanding our reading spectrum and growing but staying with YA for the most part.

What's In Your Reading Future?

Help! P.E. has been kidnapped! Well, who's the kidnapper? P.E. herself.

I recently read Reality Boy by A.S. King and it wasn't the read I wanted it to be, but there is one theme it explored quite well that is sticking with me, days later in all situations. It's the idea of demanding what you should rightfully have.

This idea makes me quite uncomfortable because I think as a person, I feel guilty a lot. I live somewhere peaceful in a decent family and have friends and will be going to university. I have a great life, and I feel guilty sometimes because I wonder if I'm not living it to the fullest because I really ought to for all the people that want to be in my position but can't.

So demands are not things I'm very comfortable with, but it's something I know I can do. So, let's talk about some of my bookish demands.

1. I demand my right to love what I love.

This is a quite general demand that is true in numerous ways. First of all, there are people that are slightly rude when they find that I'm a reader. It's totally a nerdy thing to do, and you know what? Nerds are great. Nerds are just people that really love something deeply, and I'd rather be a nerd in love with the world than someone that enjoys condemning other people's interests.

Furthermore, there are the people that are snobs about what types of books I read. What I've noticed thus far is that there are ALWAYS people that don't look well upon what you're reading. Some books are too pretentious to read. Some are for boring people. Some are not mature enough.

I really give no shits about what people think about what I'm reading (books make me too happy for that) so this is more aimed towards the people that enjoy just shitting on what you love. Stop that.

2. I demand to read what I want.

Oh, the blogging pressure. No one will outright say that certain books needs to be read (well, we all say it but not seriously!) but absolutely, there is an undercurrent that the best blogs have ARCs of the most hyped up books first. There's pressure to stay on the curve and keep up with your audience: new books.

The fact that I'm writing on a YA blog now doesn't mean I'm not allowed to read books on philosophy or memoirs. I'm allowed to grow as a reader.

This pressure doesn't exist for everyone, and it's probably self made, so I'm going to demand this of myself: I have a right to read whatever the hell I want. I don't need to read a review book because some author seems very sweet and the synopsis might possibly work for me. I don't need to force myself to try ARCs to keep my blog going. I don't even need to stick strictly to YA. I demand that my life is too short to spend doing what I don't want to do, and I will read what I want.

3. I demand that I stop feeling guilty for not liking something.

I am sad whenever I don't like a book. Especially when other people whom I respect immensely like the book. I always wonder, what am I missing? It can make reading a strange experience because I'm wondering if I'm not empathizing enough, or if I expect too much from a certain book.

I've been told my ratings for books are quite harsh because as soon as I remember a book with negative feelings, it gets a 1 star and five stars are quite rate. 2 stars is my average read. Just as I am capable of loving books, I am equally capable of clearly not liking a book, and I shouldn't feel so incredibly guilty at the thought of an author looking at my review. They're grown-ups  (for the most part!) and they can handle it. It's not like I'm shoving my opinion in someone's face, either.

I'm sure there are more demands I'm probably forgetting, but three works for me. Reality Boy made me remember that demands aren't always selfish, and it's important to be kind to oneself.

-P.E.

This is a new feature that will be looking at blogging, books, and anything of any relevance to the YA Blogosphere in short form. It's meant to start a discussion by offering quick thoughts from Mari and P.E. on a variety of topics. 

All or Nothing

by P.E. 

I've been seeing publishers post samples to their books and to put it simply, I'm wondering if there is actual interest for that sort of thing? I don't like reading samples because I would rather read the book all at once, but I suppose for some people, samples help them become much more excited for a book. I also think that in some weird way, teasers are spoilers for me because I don't like doing anything twice. Do you like teasers? 

I'm Not A Book Club Person

by P.E.

I don't know what this says about me, but I've never been someone that likes book clubs. Maybe it's my inner rebel that can't bear the idea of a reading schedule. I can't prolong my reading. Most books are read in massive chunks, so unless it's for school and I have an educational read with lots of topics, I don't like forcing myself to slow down. It's strange because I'm pretty well known as a bookworm at my school and I've been a part of book club ever there: Harry Potter book club, and that was only because I thought the teacher was great and I wanted to go on a field trip to watch the Deathly Hallows. Mari on the other hand has joined lots of book clubs.

Is It Ethical?

by Mari

I've always heard and have preached that reading does no harm and I like to believe that, however sometimes I wonder if that statement is 100% true. Recently, I've been reading Prisoner of Night and Fog by Anne Blankman, a pre-WWII novel. It contains a very close view of Hitler, his regime, and his book. There are some horrendous quotes as well that makes a reader wonder what else the man had written. Despite my curiosity there is a sense of ethics? that keeps me from buy/borrowing this book. Just searching for Mein Kampf at Chapters made me nervous and uncomfortable. Is it ethical to read a book written by such a horrible person even if your intentions are pure. In a way, will I be supporting him and his crimes?

-P.E. AND MARI

This is a test run for a new feature that will be looking at blogging, books, and anything of any relevance to the YA Blogosphere in short form. It's meant to start a discussion by offering quick thoughts from Mari and P.E. on a variety of topics. 

The Importance of Blog Designs

by P.E.

Judging by the reaction to our post on our new blog design, it seems like a lot of bloggers care a lot about their design. I think one underrated thing a new design does is rejuvenate your love for your blog. It's clean and new. It's like the blog underwent spring cleaning. The content of the blog is the same, but it's like renovating a room: there are differences, and that's exciting.  

Review Book / Required reading?

by Mari

There is no feeling like the one a book lover gets when she/he gets offered a book for review. It's one of joy, accomplishment and eagerness. However, I find that after a few days and a few chapters the eagerness dies down to a pang of requirement. The review book no matter how good turns into required reading. It's too bad because if my mind would get over the required part and journey onto just focusing on the story, I would enjoy the books a lot more and same could be said to all the books I've had to read for school.

I Have a Netgalley... Now What Do I Do?

by P.E.

I signed up for a Netgalley account, because I think it's a great way to access more books. Except now I'm in Netgalley purgatory because I am clueless as to what to do next! Wait, let's correct that. I know all about what to do, I'm just undecided. The thing about Netgalley is that I feel like it's an enormous honour to be able to do this. It means you are no longer just a blogger, but you are taking an active role to promote books. So, I want to make sure I do it right. I want to have an awesome Netgalley ratio, I want to pick books I feel like I'll not just like, but love. So, you can probably tell it's taking me a while to get going.

Fairy Tales

by Mari
I realize that our blog is named after a fairytale -esque mythical creature but I've come to realize that I don't know many fairy tales (excluding Cinderella, Snow White, Mulan, The Little Mermaid). "Don't know" in the sense that I don't know details because I've never really read many. I'm currently reading Cruel Beauty by Rosamund Hodge and I'm mesmerized. I know the general idea but I didn't know that the beast asked the princess a question each night. At the same time, I like not knowing too much because it lets me enjoy a commonly known story with fresh eyes.

I never told anyone when I started my first blog. I had the news inside of me. I was bursting to tell it, but I kept it on the down low for the early stages. Eventually, I told one friend. And a while later, another. But it wasn't something I publicized. I didn't want to be P.E., the blogger.

I was active on forums long before I even learned of blogging. It was there that I learned the art of creating an internet persona, who was me, but the me I wanted to present. I loved it. I am a private person, and the idea of controlling my image so completely was incredibly appealing. And so, as teenagers often do these days, I found a place in the world, or at least the internet, that I wanted to be part of. The wonderful forum, and later the blogging community.

What's cool about the internet is that you can live by two lives. On the forum, I was known as Ashes (which sounds a little depressing, until I explain that the main character in the book series the forum was about was Ash, and every other variation was taken). On my blog, after learning so much in schools and by parents about the dangers of sharing internet information, I kept my initials, P.E.. It's something I still have.

I didn't realize how weird it was until a teacher said, a little shocked, "You have a blog? Why don't I know about this!" (She's a great teacher, BTW). She was friendly and we often had conversations. She said this so loud and the entire class looked over. And I felt so upset, because maybe some people don't understand, but it was like I was in two worlds.

There was the me in real life, who had a decent life and there was online me, and I was always me no matter what I did, but it was different parts of me. If I had a bad day blogging, well, who cares, go hang out with a friend. If I had a bad day in real life, who cares, I was someone on the internet.

One of the questions I hated most of all was being asked for my blog URL. I think I point blank refused a lot of people. This was partly to ensure my separation between online me and real person me, but also because I wanted to be a successful blogger. I wanted to be productive, and have an impact. In some ways I'm a trusting person, but in others, I'm not. I wanted my blog to be successful because of my hard work and talent (if it indeed existed). I wanted to make a name for myself. Every bit of success that I had was something I wanted to have not because of who I was, but what I could do.

So in general, I hid blogging for a long time, and then I transitioned into "not really going to talk about it". Seriously, do you realize how stressed out I was over making a twitter account? I was terrified. Twitter would mean joining real person me and online me. Of course, I didn't really tell too many people about my Twitter either.

I don't know how it happened, or what happened, and maybe it's a part of growing up, but eventually I become more comfortable with sharing online me and real me. And this is what I believe has made my writing stronger: I can write emotionally and have confidence in my place in the world. This confidence came from seeing Tantalizing Illusions do reasonably well. It also came from people I trusted, who told me they thought I could write well, and somehow they made me believe it a little.

I'm a perfectionist. I'm always in competition with myself to be better. I generally have extremely high expectations of myself and my life, and I'm still reconciling them. Even now, when I'm so very open about being a blogger, which I'm sure has a lot to do with Mari telling me my writing doesn't suck, and helping manage TSC to look good, I still am uncomfortable with the idea of the real people I know seeing my blog.

I'm trying not to be. It's just that writing is so personal to me. I wrote so emotionally, and I don't know how much of that I'm comfortable sharing.

I don't know if this is the case for everyone. I had a twitter conversation the other day with someone, and she told me she never saw blogging the way I did, and that's completely possible. Not everyone feels the compulsive need to be good at everything. I guess the way I see it is if I'm going to do something, I need to do it well. I either do it or don't. There's no middle ground.

I'm even uncomfortable sharing this post because it's again, incredibly personal, and I don't know if I want people to see it. But at the same time, this isn't something people talk about a lot.

Often, to get people interested in Twitter, I describe tweets as talking in a room of shouting people. Maybe someone will hear you, maybe no one will. There is that sense of anonymity on the internet that seems to be shamed, or despised, and I don't see why that needs to be the case.

When I needed it, I was in my anonymous bubble, watching, learning, and it made me feel safe. And now I'm starting to exit that bubble and explore the person that is me on the internet, and off the internet. And maybe I think she has some potential.

Have you ever enjoyed anonymity on the internet? How comfortable are you to say that you're a blogger?

-P.E.

This story, about the Associated Press creating word limits caught my eye a few weeks ago. It was at that time that I found a piece that I currently can't find about the emergence of video as the new text. The article explained that newer generations (mine, my sister's) have grown up with so much immediate access to information that we don't want to read it anymore, we want the instant gratification and something that won't let us get distracted; the future is video.

As a blogger, this concerned me because every week, I produce many written works and I have been wondering so much about the future of blogging. 

When I first joined blogging some years ago, it was different. The blogs were bubbly and new; the ARCs were flowing; everything was original because it had never happened before. I remember there was almost an unwritten code for how to act; bubbly and sweet, and I also remember many more blogs of lower quality. Review requests by publishers were a lot more free flowing, and I remember getting some right away. 

Now, I believe the blogging community has matured, and is more focused on creating better content. Most blogs look good; most bloggers know the basic rules. Publishers have also become more restrictive with their ARCs. For example, Mari and I don't receive near as many review requests as I did at Tantalizing Illusions, even if our work here is better written, and we have about double to triple the page views. 

These are my impressions, and I very well could be wrong. It's clear that the blogging community is constantly evolving, and in no way is that a bad thing. What I can't help but wonder though is when will the community reach its peak?

Or has it already done so? 

I never knew about BookTube until this year when I saw some tweets by Giselle. I'm not a video person in the slightest, and yet this new medium for bookish fandom intrigues me. I've looked at a few videos since then and they seem to do what we do as writers, but they make videos. And it was then that I remembered the theory that in the future, it will be video that is the most digested medium for information. 

Obviously, as a blogger, I'm curious about this. 

Furthermore, with the controversy at BEA about the panel with the BookTuber, I can't help thinking about the future of book blogging.

Will be all become super high tech? Every blog is always searching for new ways to attract readers. Will we be seeing more multimedia news resources? And, as blog readers, do you tire of reading long, written pieces? 

I don't know the answers to any of these questions, and I'd love to read your thoughts in the comments!

-P.E.

Your eyes are deceiving you. That's totally an octagon.

I was reading a post about reading slumps when I started to wonder about the opposite of a reading slump, and something I'm currently experiencing: when you want to devour every book. When you want life to just STAHP so you can go and read your book.

I think this always happens to some extent, but to me, I'm starting to notice some trends. When I read in the mornings on my commute to school, it makes me quiet and pensive. I'm a little foggy because my mind is still in the book. I tend to read in class too, which my teachers tend to um, discourage.

When I don't read, it's because I'm listening to music. When I listen to music, I become energetic. If I hear a song, I have to move. It's a compulsion within me to move. While reading makes me retreat into a world of me, listening to music means my eyes are free to explore the world around me, and I'm usually in a great mood.

I'm not saying that reading is bad. But I do wonder if sometimes, it's important to step back.

When I'm in a reading obsession (that's what I'll call it), I have a "Go away, I'm reading!" vibe and I find it supremely irritating when someone or something interrupts my reading time. I hate every moment I'm away from my book, and at the end of the day, everything will fade away except for my book. I won't be able to recall anything of significance that occurred to me that day because I was reading.

Some wouldn't say this is a bad thing, but then, there is some context to me.

First, I was brought up with my parents both telling me I read too much. I guess I retreated too often to my room to read, and I guess at some point I kind of developed a terrible fear of missing out on life. I don't want to grow old and not have any amazing stories to tell. I don't want to be known for reading: I want to be known for doing.

There's nothing wrong with reading. I think I love it too much, and one fundamental part of my personality is that I lean towards idealism in that I will always try to have it all: I will want the grades, the social life, the books, the healthy food, the physical fitness, everything.

Reading genuinely brings me pleasure, but there's also a part of me that has grown from when I was a kid and that is terrified when I tell people to go away, I'm reading. This part of me demands that I broaden my interests. Because when you love something too much, it can also hurt you too much.

When I was a kid, going on a reading slump sucked majorly. I didn't want to read and I suddenly didn't know what to do with myself. For aforementioned reasons, doing nothing terrified me. So, the biggest thing I've done since then is diversify myself. Nothing is ever going to be my everything. I'm always trying to explore different parts of me and life, so if some part of it is bad, I have something else to look forward to.


I know that not everyone commits like me. When I love something, I throw myself at it 100% and that has a tendency not to work out. It's perfectly reasonable that this post won't make sense to some people. But for me, sometimes, I stop myself from reading too much because as much as I love being a bookworm, I try to remember that I'm human, not some book devouring machine, and I need to explore other areas of my life as well.

-P.E.

This song is called Animals and it's by Martin Garrix. Martin Garrix is an extremely young artist (I think he's 17 now) and as you can see by the over 15 million plays, this song is huge. He was relatively unknown until Animals exploded into a huge hit and now he's one of the rising stars of electro.

The song is well known for the drop, but when I first heard it, I didn't really care about the drop. Instead, the part I adored was the melody. There are these sounds that to me, feel like an animal is running right past you and when you look at it, it runs away. The animals are entirely wide and chaotic, and nowhere in the song do I really feel the idea of animals is explored too well except for those gorgeous sounds.

When I listen to Animals, it is that sound that I crave. It's not a very loud sound; it is subtle, and to me it is almost auditory perfection. It's not the popular part of the song, but I believe it is the strongest part.

In fact, that is one of the most identifiable features to most songs I like these days. The chorus' are all supposed to be epic- I don't have much of a care for them. It is the quiet moments of anticipation as the atmosphere builds that I absolutely adore.

Now, what does this have to do with writing?

As my tastes have developed, getting a high rating from me for a book is becoming increasingly difficult. I'm looking for overall quality of story, I'm looking for something that pleases me, I'm expecting a lot. One way for me to detect how good a book is, is through a very simple test.

Good writing.

I can't tell you about similes and metaphors and cadence because I'm not a very skilled literary reader. For me, good writing means making every single word count. That's the true mark of beauty. It's not just about the crescendos, the action scenes, or the plot twists. It's about making every sentence something worth reading.

I believe the most talented writers- the
Melina Marchettas, the Rainbow Rowells, the John Greens of the world- are the among the highest skilled in their position at creating beauty. This is what I enjoy most about their work. When every word carries a purpose, when every sentence furthers the story. Every word can bring something to a story. Every word can create an atmosphere.

If a writer is able to do this- to milk every sentence for what it's worth, then I think they will have achieved as high a level as any writer can. It's something I see here and there.

Cruel Beauty for one was a beautiful example of this. Rosamund Hodge's prose was luxurious and I was captivated by every word. This is something I strive to do in my writing. This is how I measure my success in a written piece.

It is not within the climax that beauty is discovered. I think the climax can enhance beauty, but I've always thought that true beauty is more quiet; even when the big events come and go, reading a simple scene can make my heart melt and my eyes tear up. That is the true mark of beauty.

But then again, there is also something so beautiful in being thrilled by a so called "guilty pleasure", so beauty is assuredly in the eye of the beholder.

-P.E.

I am a dreamer.

I like to think of the future and what could be. I like to imagine different scenarios and possibilities.

I've also been called an optimist.

I disagree with that. I consider myself a realist. I think it's much easier to believe the worst in the world than to hold on to the possibility that maybe, something special can happen.

I always dream about that something special. I imagine the moment and the words that would describe it.

One of the most fundamental parts of my personality is that I always believe that the best is yet to come. As good as one moment is, it won't be as good as what could come. I seek out those moments of perfection, and I guess I'm lucky but I have experienced them. They only come for me when I believe in something despite all logic. Sometimes, they are moments in sports, sometimes climaxes in a song, and other times, just moments where I look up at the sky during a sunset and the colours just blow me away.


I'm the same when it comes to books. A good book can give off the best high. The easiest example for me is Quintana of Charyn, which is by now a legendary book on this blog. (Well, if I've created enough hype for it.) I read that entire book savouring every second, and being weirdly emotional just because it was one of the most perfect reads I have ever experienced.

I seek that out from every book I read. I know it exists, and now it's all about finding that euphoria. I think I would be quite happy if all I spent in life was searching for perfect moments.

I was writing a blog post that you might see later, or earlier depending on when it is posted. It was inspired by a stroll through Coles where I discovered several books that called to me. I don't know how to explain seeing them there and just wanting them so badly. It's like a pull in my stomach and a little like I forgot to breathe. I want that book so badly because I believe it could be one of those books that gives me my perfect moment.

I am a dreamer and the reality is that the moments are rare. Not every book will give me that taste of the world being aligned just perfectly for that one second. In fact, the vast majority of books won't. That doesn't mean I don't want the moment: I just cherish it even more when it comes by.

This is my explanation for a weird behaviour I'm starting to notice with myself: the possibility is almost as riveting as the realty. I can fall in love with my dreams and give myself a pretty high as I imagine how perfect something can be.

Finding a book I could read, a book I want to read, and looking at it is almost as exhilarating as reading the book. It sounds weird, but I think this attitude is incredibly prevalent in the YA blogosphere.

I know so many bloggers speak of vast collection of books they have acquired, and that they haven't read. It's completely impractical and one perspective someone could have is that it's a waste of money. But maybe it isn't. Sometimes, the dream is worth a lot more than the reality.

Some people would say that the dream is better than the reality. It's more fun to look at TBR lists and imagine falling in love with a book. It's more fun to imagine the first time you get a box full of beautifully decorated ARCs.

I concede that sometimes, that can be true. As a book blogger, I adore books, and I adore perfect moments. I want it both, and drooling over that pretty, shiny new book is almost a ritual.

But the best part about being a book blogger with such dreams in when they're not dreams. It is entirely possible that there is a book that you desperately crave and imagine its perfection, and you read it, and then..

It is exactly what you wanted. It satisfied every craving you've had. The stars have aligned, and somehow it IS perfect. Against all reason and logic, perfection does exist and you've lived with it. That has happened to me before, and maybe I won't think it's so perfect later, but in the moment, it is. And that's why I love to dream. Because there is a chance that the book that is hyped so much, that I desperately want, lives up to all the hype.

And by caring so much, somehow it's even better. By dreaming, I can have that moment twice: once in my head, and then my dream can be obliterated when the reality proves to be so much better.

-P.E.

Without a doubt, one of the best services offered by the government is the library.

When my parents immigrated to Canada, we were not that well off. I was almost four, and I remember being very shy and totally a mommy's girl just. I wasn't very good at trusting strangers, and I was a pretty cautious, quiet child. My parents gave me everything I needed, but they didn't splurge on items like books and it was futile to ask for them. 

But, there was the library. I wish I could remember the first time I walked into a library, but I can't. I suppose it's when my parents were in college. There was a massive library nearby and my mom would visit to read books. I think she hoped it would improve her English. I can't tell you the first time I checked a book out from the library either. My memory of the library begins with bringing tens of books home after I scoured the shelves. 

I can't remember reading many picture books. I think at some point my mom tried to force them on me because I wasn't a very good reader. (I have a distinct memory of struggling with the words cat and bat.) I guess I thought books were boring. But the beautiful thing about the library is that it isn't always about books.

The library had an extensive selection of VCR's, and I devoured them. I adored Disney (my favourite was Beauty and the Beast), and my mom laughs when she recounts how I cried when I watched The Land Before Time (in fairness, when the mommy dinosaur died, it was devastating). I even acted out some of the Lion King and The Land Before Time movies by transforming our living room into an elaborate obstacle course so when the dinosaurs jumped about on their journeys, I would climb around the couch (my parents LOVED that part). 

I read Dear Dumb Diary; I read Junie. B Jones. Then I met my next passion: Harry Potter. Reading Harry Potter was special because my mom read it too. I remember struggling through the words and asking her what they meant. It was one of the first chapter books I read, and I don't know how but somehow, I became a big reader soon after. 

I would visit the library with my mom and we would check out a good twenty books. I read up to six chapter books a day (granted, they were small ones). I couldn't buy any of the books I wanted, but I could take them from the library and that was literally the next best thing. Whenever I was in a bad place, I would retreat to my room and read. They kind of taught me a lot about the world, and my childhood is a huge reason why I'm a reader today. 

The other thing the library offered were programs. I remember my mom signing me up to a few and I was super shy, but I had fun. I think I went to a Lord of the Rings program, which was really funny because I never read the books. Either way, the library proved all throughout my childhood to be a safe place. 

When I was a pre-teen, and um, stuff wasn't going so well at home, I would compose myself and go to the library where I would forget about everything else and just focus on books. The library is a pleasant space, and it was also my safe space. I brought my sister with me sometimes and even if I was uncomfortable in other places, the library always meant a lot to me.

To put it really simply, books are a huge part of my life and I wouldn't be able to have them without the library. We're better off now, but I still visit the library monthly and I volunteer there because I know what a safe haven it is. I used the library to entertain myself, and my mom used it to educate herself. My dad used it to stay connected with his home country by reading the news. It has meant a lot to my family, and I can't say enough about the facilities and the people there. 

I think I wrote this post just because libraries need to be appreciated more. They do so much for people and they don't get enough credit. I would like to thank every single library and librarian throughout the years because their work is appreciated. 

The true test to the strength of a civilization is in the libraries, and I'm lucky to live in a city with first class service.

-P.E.

High Fantasy novels scare me. When I start one, I never know if I will be reading my new favourite series or reading the most tedious book in the existence of humanity. I suppose you could say this for all book genres, but it's especially true to fantasy. First, let's talk about the Boom.

BOOM!

Compared to the amount of high fantasy I read, it's probably unexpected that some of my favourite books are high fantasy. Graceling, Poison Study, Finnikin of the Rock, Shadow and Bone all come to mind. I love shows like Game of Thrones too. At its very best, fantasy is all engrossing. 

It's a completely imaginative new world with a different set of rules from that of our own. Fantasy is thrilling. There are so many enormous battles and prophecies. There is this undeniable feeling of fate. There is action, and magic, and overall, the story telling in fantasy is epic and phenomenal.

There are no fantasies I like. 

When fantasy clicks, it's storytelling and heroics and politics merged into this beautiful, epic read. It's not a book I like but a book that instantly becomes part of my favourites. I'll gush about it everywhere because it's that awesome. Fantasy, when it clicks, is a beautiful thing.

BUST

But when it flops, there is no comparison to how irritated a fantasy book can make me. When it doesn't work, fantasy is slow and complicated. It's full of irrelevant characters I give no shits about and by the end of the book, I end up wishing that every character would just die because they irritate me so much. I'm not usually that bitter in real life, but some fantasy books just bring out the worst in me. 

To this day, if you ask me what was the worst book ever, I could point you towards Modelland by Tyra Banks which I started to read as a comedy because it was so godawful in terms of plot, character development, world building, plausibility... pretty much anything you need in a book was done badly. 

Many high fantasies try to be epic, and when they fail at that, I am extremely harsh on them. Ellen Oh's Prophecy is one book I can't stand. I thought everything was forced. I also despised reading The Golden Compass (description overload), Garth Nix's Sabriel series, wasn't into Narnia (beyond The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe).

Some fantasies have awful lingo that I can't get over, and the imagery bores me. I don't really visualize much when I read, so reading descriptions of some kind of half scorpion, a quarter dragon, a quarter porcupine thing does not sound appealing. When a fantasy tries to be interesting by having descriptions of different types of worlds rather than having action (of the type I like), I shut it down.

Is it just a fantasy thing?

Other genres elicit similar responses from me, but none to the extremities that fantasy does. I'm always a little cautious about fantasy, because on the one hand, I adore it. I love the mysticism, I love the action, and the possibilities are really glorious. On the other hand, I'm not a hardcore fantasy reader. I can't join a fantasy fan club because it's really not my genre of choice- I think speculative fiction with a focus on characterization and plot, is. 

What do you think? Are you a fantasy fan? Or do you avoid fantasy?

-P.E.

This is a bit of a hard post to write, because it's hard to admit you're wrong. But, I was.

Books are special because they can teach. They can offer a brand new perspective to something, and that perspective can change your whole mindset. I feel like books have shaped me into the person that I am, and they deserve recognition for that.

Yesterday was #BellLetsTalk (not really, but as I'm writing this post, it was). It's when Bell, one of two gigantic media corporations in Canada, tries to start a conversation about mental health. Every tweet with #BellLetsTalk resulted in $0.05 towards mental health initiatives. It sounds like a little, but at the end of the day, over five million dollars was generated.

Every year I grow and learn. Every year I think I have it all figured out, and then I'm shocked to realize I don't.

Despite the many workshops and speeches, I never really understood depression. I understood it as an extreme sadness that doesn't go away. I was told that if you're sad for a little bit, that's normal, but depression is more long term. Still, I didn't understand.

Obviously, everyone has had sad moments in their lives. I didn't understand what differentiated sad and depression. I'm probably lucky for that. Whenever I'm sad, I deal with it. I don't let myself be sad- I always distract myself. Read, tv, put myself into something other than the moment. Later on, when distraction isn't working, I write. I just input whatever is in my head onto paper, and then somehow that clears my mind.

It's like, after I validate my feelings, I can deal with them. It isn't always easy, but I can cope. Because of this, I couldn't believe in always being sad, partly because a large part of me being sad, was guilting myself into ignoring it. I have a great life where I'm extremely sheltered. I know that, but even then, it's hard for me to believe in anything else just because when people talk about horrific things, I have no experience to base it on. It just sounds like a story.

My views toward depression were along the lines that everyone could get better through their own method, whether it be treatment or therapy. Rationally, I knew it was an illness, but I didn't truly understand until I read Allie Brosh's posts on depression.

When I read it, I was in a bad mood and straight up cried because I knew I would be happy and feel better, but some people wouldn't. Depression is terrifying to me because I know it doesn't always reach Brosh's level. Her writing terrified me because on a human basis, I understood.

I have definitely had points where I decided to not care. I've had moments where I look at something I love and wonder why it isn't making me happy. Heck, I've even had people do incredible things for me while all I've been thinking is that I want to leave. Those moods are the worst, especially because I always believed that happiness is a choice, and I could choose to be happy. When I wasn't happy, I felt guilty and mad at myself. The point is, I tried, and eventually I got better, but through writing things down, I realized how bad off I was later on.

Allie Brosh's post taught me that for some people, they just keep feeling down, even when they try to be happy. Happiness isn't a choice- who would ever choose to be unhappy? That was a motto all throughout my preteen years. I was a big Wicked Lovely fan and that was one of the quotes and themes. Maybe I wasn't really experienced enough to truly realize what it meant, but I honestly believed that if I tried hard enough, I would be happy.

Reading about Allie's experiences as she couldn't bring herself around to care just opened my eyes. This is a mental illness. It is based on science in the brain, and no matter how much anyone tries to will themselves out of it, they might not be able to.

Reading Hyperbole and a Half helped me understand truly, or as close as I can get without having real depression, what depression is. Books are powerful that way- they can open eyes and educate. I know today there's probably a lot of things I'm also wrong about, but I can learn. Reading is one way to do that.

-P.E.

Ugh.

I'm trying to write something, but it's not working out. I like when the blog has a mixture of discussion, thoughtful, and review posts, but these days I can't seem to get inspiration for writing anything remotely interesting.

There are ideas I have. I kind of want to write about how I feel like adults have taken over the YA world a little, but the idea isn't fully developed yet. I keep reading my thoughts and saying, "Nope, that's wrong. You can't say that. WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?"

I am definitely my harshest critic.

There was also a post on drama, and how it's not necessary for YA bloggers, but to be honest, the post went "I've never encountered drama, and it's not a requirement of blogging," and it ended right there.

Yuck. So this is a writing exercise that you may or may not see (depending on what Mari thinks). This is me writing out my block.

See, when other people get block, I assume they do something like try to inspire themselves by visiting other blogs, or watching a movie. They may even leave the screen blank in despair. I've tried writing three to four different posts in the past few weeks, and finally, I got sick of it. I refuse to have writing block. So now, it can go away.

I just need a topic that is semi-interesting and that hasn't been covered before. Like.... (Well, if I knew, we wouldn't be having this conversation. Wait. I swear I know this isn't a conversation.)

A normal person would leave the computer when they have clearly nothing of substance to say, but I refuse to do that. I feel like if I get these words out, maybe they can clear up some space for some actual interesting words.

I feel like I'm in limbo. I'm done my summatives, and now I just need to do my exams. I'm learning nothing new in school. Theoretically, we should be studying right now but I don't want to study. I honestly am not terrified over any of these marks. Like, I'm done with these classes. Can I just start new ones already?

And I've sent in my university applications. All that needs to happen is for more schools to accept me. There's a mixture of confidence and absolute despair going on in my head. What if I don't get accepted? What if I do? It's debatable which is scarier.

This post may be one of the stupidest things I've ever written, but guess what: it works. Writing block is something everyone has experienced, and everyone has a theory on. I know there is especially a lot of talk on what to do when you're an author and you have writer's block (which sounds terrifying, because that's your job and writer's block means you're incapable of doing it) so here's how I get through it.

This. I have writer's block when I have a vision, but no understanding of the process. I want so badly to write that perfect post that everyone will enjoy. I want to touch people's hearts. I want to inspire people. I want to make a name for myself.

These desires are almost paralyzing my ability to write, because writing is free flowing and all over the place, and I never really know where my posts are going until they're done. I'm dealing with a lot of stress and guilt because I'm totally procrastinating right now, which is awful because I need high marks for university. Doing a post like this: rambly, with no aim, mostly my opinions with some tenuous link to blogging thrown in helps me because I'm doing exactly what I was scared to do.

I'm allowing myself to write. This post may never be read by anyone, and I'm pretty sure in a month when someone reads it and comments I'll feel pretty bad because a lot can change in a month (or maybe nothing will- Hello, future me!) but the biggest thing in my writing that I need to connect with is me. I want to write honestly, and this, while not structured or polished, is 100% me. Unapologetically.

(Who am I kidding, I'm so sorry I wasted your time on this mess of a post.)

(Mari says pass!)

-P.E.

(Oh, and I hope you guys enjoyed my artistic work. I was too lazy to search for appropriate images so I made my own. Do you like it or should I stick with stock images?)

As a reader I've gone through many phases. There was Magic Tree House and Geronimo Stilton which eventually gave way to The Series of Unfortunate Events and Harry Potter. Those two lead to my entrance into YA via Twilight.

I loved volcanos.

Puns!

Read it in a night.

All these phases related to my age. I was a certain age in each and read the books that were more or less designated for that age. As I grew up, the books I read also increased in maturity and changed or evolved. 

However, I recently turned 18 making me a certified adult, so weird. Does this mean that I will follow the path that nature has been leading me through in the past? 

The reason I grew out of each of those previous books was because they were written for a certain intelligence level (except Harry Potter, I'll be reading that to my grandchildren). YA books aren't always the most rich pieces of writing but they appeal to all ages. There is no min/max intelligence level required. The topics covered are universal. 

This is the reason why so many YA readers aren't young adults. Technically I'm not one either now. I should be reading New Adult, but YA doesn't shut me out. I can still read about a 17 year old girl who is an assassin nun in medieval Brittany (Grave Mercy shout out!). And if I'm feeling like reminiscing, I can read about a 14 year old entering high school for the first time. Whatever floats your boat.

I’m sure one day, I'll move on to reading books in other age groups, most likely adult books. I've already started with the occasional book. But that's not the only option. Heck, I know people who couldn't care less about adult books; they enjoy children’s literature. Great! 

lol!

I think what I'm trying to get to is, as we're growing up, we're more focused on age and age advised products. But as we grow up and our minds grow as well and at some point we become capable of accepting of different things. This is why books in the adult genre aren't always about 40 something year olds. They're about kids, grandmas, cats etc. 

I'm 18 and I like YA books and I shall continue to like and read them until I feel otherwise. Not because I've reached a certain age but because my taste has changed. 

-MARI