Why To Stop Reading A Book

Hey! Look at this! A second post up in less than a week! (I'm praying I keep it that way. ;P)

Okay, so I thought I would write down some reasons why I have STOPPED reading a book. Yes, you read that right. Stopped. Even when I'm halfway through, and as an avid reader it kills my little OCD heart to not completely finish a book, I have decided to walk away from some. 

If you're above the age of 12 and have starting branching out into more uncharted reading waters, then you probably know what I'm talking about. Here are some reasons why I stop reading books:

Language:

I have grown old enough that language does not bother me as much as it might have before, even large amounts of it. But there have come points in several books where the language was simply overwhelming and making the book completely unenjoyable. Most secular authors probably don't realize how distracting it is, or, if they do, they don't care. They assume everyone talks like this. But curse words can act like an attention-magnet. Instead of carrying the story, the characters, and the characters' speech forward, when they're used, they suck all of the attention away from the sentence to fixate on that one word. 

Adult Scenes:

I've stopped trying with YA novels. Anything remotely romantic-related turns out to be all romance. When that happens, the authors usually feel the need to spell out every detail, something I personally do not care to read. You can have adult-content without describing every detail of that. Imagine how much more appropriate books would be if that were the case. But since authors assume you DO want to read all about it, they do write it.

Now, I can overlook those two things usually, IF it has at least one, sometimes two (depending on how bad the language and content is) of the following:

Good/Interesting Characters:

There have actually been few books--nowadays, at any rate--where the characters are compelling and interesting and deep enough to make me want to keep reading. I tried to get into The Raven Boys Trilogy, finding the characters well done, but ultimately not interesting enough to carry the weight of the boring/weird plot, the amount of language, and the complete lack of any sort of moral values. (Now, I know by using this as an example, I've possibly opened a can of worms. I know that the Raven Boys is a pretty big deal for some people, but, sorry, this is my opinion.) 

The Throne of Glass is another example I could use. The language I could take, the occasional adult content I could take, but I couldn't stand Celaena after the second book in the series. She wouldn't stop whining. While the first book kept me interested, and the second book I read for the romance, there was nothing left for me to gain from Celaena's character after that. She was all dried up. And, by taking away the intrigue of the plot of the previous books and the other, more interesting characters, I found that she had been just as whiny and annoying throughout whole series.

Intriguing Plot:

The plot is supposed to be what keeps you reading. You can get away with stupid characters and badly written prose if you have an exceptionally amazing plot. Now "exceptionally amazing" varies due to peoples different tastes. I read a book a while back about the idea that souls are used again and again, but in different bodies throughout time, and boy who could remember his "past lives." He was in love with a girl he kept meeting during those various lives who couldn't remember. (By the way, I DO NOT recommend this book.) The writing style was fairly good, if vague, but otherwise is was an awful book. The only thing that kept me reading was the plot. I wanted to know how it ended. I wouldn't say it was an "exceptionally amazing" plot, but it was intriguing enough that I overlooked all the flaws.

Good Writing Style:

The City of Bones is a good example for this one. It was one of the few books I've read that I read solely for the writing style of the author, and nothing else. I picked it up, intending to enjoy it because I had heard good things about it. Instead, I found the characters dry and devoid of any real standards or morals, the plot predictable, slow, and typical, and the language distracting. I kept reading it doggedly, because I decided that even if it ended terribly, the author was a good writer and I maybe I could pick up on how she did it. 

Enders Game is an amazing book. Great plot, well developed characters, and nicely done writing, but after reading it, I felt like I needed to take a shower. There was a lot language. But, ultimately, it was worth the language for everything else the book gave me. I gained more than I lost. Faerie Wars on the other hand, I put down because it wasn't worth my time. While there wasn't a whole lot of language, the characters, the plot, and the writing were nothing spectacular, there was nothing I could gain as a writer or as a person, and I eventually just decided to put it down. There are better books out there for me to spend my time on.

The older I've gotten, the more books I've put down. One, because I've started to realize that time is precious and I need to use my reading time to its fullest extent. And secondly, because, as I branch out into stranger territories in search of new and exciting things to read, the more flak I have to wade through to get the really good stuff. 

Do you stop reading many books? Do you have a hard time like I do not finishing something simply for the sake of finishing? What makes you stop reading? What makes you keep reading?

Have a lovely afternoon,

~The Scribbler in the Attic

Monday Musings \\ Conclusions&Christmas&Coming Agains

Hello, everyone!

Well, my "treasure hunting" month is officially over for this blog. I had a lot of fun doing the various posts. Even though I didn't have the time to do all the ones I wanted, I still had a great time sharing my NaNoWriMo aspirations with you all.

Thank you for all your support! Stay tuned this next month for Christmas photography shoots. :) I don't believe I'll be able to get together This Name and Moment's next segment until the new year. (Anyone else get a shiver when they say 'new year'? ;D)

Hope you all have a great Monday!

~The Scribbler in the Attic

(P.s. I think I'll keep my map header up for a while. I like it a lot. :D :D :D )

Verbal Victory Dance!!!!!

WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! Nun-nuh-nuh-nuh-nuh-nuuuuuuuuuuuuh!!!!!!!!!

Just thought I'd tell y'all that I FINISHED MY NANOWRIMO BOOK AND I'M NOT EXCITED AT ALL.

(I suffer from an extreme case of being sarcastic when I am really excited. Just fyi.)

Thank you all so much for your support! To those of you doing National Novel Writing Month, how is it going? I really hope you've enjoyed this month as much as I have!

Love,
~The Scribbler in the Attic

Writers Wednesday || Part 17 - The Revelation

This picture was a lot of fun to take. I was literally laughing out loud as I applied the fake blood.
Hope you guys enjoy this next part!

- Part 17 -

The Revelation

Her heart had stopped beating.

It seemed as if she was trapped for an eternity between complete disbelief and complete confusion, yet on the very brink of everything in her broken life clicking into place.

Clarity forced herself to forget every question hurtling through her brain like a thousand trains about to crash into each other, and focus on Stallings to see if he was telling the truth. She watched his eyes and his features, tensing for any little sign of a lie.

She swallowed hard, "…Where? Where are they?"

Stallings held up his hands protectively, his gaze slipping between her and the barrel of her weapon. "Put the gun down and we'll talk."

"No."

"Clarity--"

"Where are they, Professor?" Her voice shook. Jerking her head towards the door to the crypt, she demanded, "In there, with the rest of your corpses?"

"No, they aren't in there."

"Then where, Stallings?" she practically screamed. "Are they dead?" Somewhere in the corner of her heart, Clarity had always had the prowling fear that she would never see them alive, never know how exactly they died. A fear that had been strengthened by her aunt everyday for years after  the night they disappeared. She would yank any trace of hope of her neice's heart with the firm words, "They aren't coming back, Clarity dear. I'm sorry, but they're dead. They aren't coming back."

Clarity felt tears rising in her eyes. She quickly blinked and repeated her question, "Are they dead?"

Stallings gulped. A thousand years seemed to pass as he paused, hesitating with his answer.

"No. They are alive."

Staggering back a step, a wave of heat and dizziness swept over Clarity. She wanted to believe it with every fiber of her being, but doubt won out as she reminded herself Stallings couldn't be trusted. It could all still be a lie.

The sound of approaching boots on tile flooded Clarity with awareness again. Stallings was backing away slowly.

"I'm afraid it's over, Clarity. You can't escape this place."

Clarity's hand holding her gun had fallen back to her side. She raised it to point at his chest again.

"You can't shoot me, Clarity. Think of your parents. I'm the only one who knows."

The pounding footsteps were getting closer and closer. They would be in the hallway any moment. Clarity's hands shook as she held the gun. 
She took a deep breath and shot.

Stallings gave a cry and flinched, pathetically waving his hands as if somehow that would save him. But the bullet wasn't meant for him. At the last second, Clarity had pointed the weapon upwards and shot the florescent lights. A shower of sparks rained down. Using it as her smokescreen, she fled to the opposite end of the hallway, to the secondary stairwell, and threw herself down the stairs.   

Outside, the night was electric and dark.

Clarity found the door to the outside ajar. She breathed a prayer of thanks as she stepped into the open air at last. The wind caressed her gently, playing with her highlighted blue hair as she crouched in the shadow of the building's walls to get her bearings.

One guard by each tower, two others patrolling the wall tops between.

As she scanned the concrete yard, a shadow got caught in the corner of her eye. She twisted her head to get a better angle.

It was Sean. Crouching behind some sort of armored van. His oversized brown leather jacket gleamed slightly beneath the light of the dim moon.

Clattering footsteps on the stairs inside warned Clarity it was time to make a move.

She had never been much for thinking things through. It was usually just a waste of valuable time.

Aiming the gun at the clouds, Clarity pulled the trigger. The shot shattered the silence of the compound. The six guards stationed at the towers immediately began yelling to each other. The two on the ground started running towards the building, directly for her.

Clarity didn't move. She watched as Sean left behind his hiding place and sprinted for the East tower. The wall top guards spotted him. At their comrades' cries, the guards heading for Clarity turned about and went straight for Sean.

Unclipping one of the grenades from her chest holster, Clarity followed them. She wasn't sure whether or not she should be frightened. It was her first time using a grenade.

The guards were closing in on Sean now and she was closing in on them. Catching sight of her, Sean's mouth dropped open. They'd only been apart for maybe twenty minutes, but seeing his stupid face again brought a rush of happiness back to Clarity.

She pulled the pin out of the bomb and flung it with all her might at the two guards.

As it exploded with an eruption of fire and noise, a sheet of heat nearly pushed Clarity to the ground. It seared and scrubbed her skin raw like sandpaper. Shaking away the high-pitched ringing in her ears, she passed the two smoldering men, their clothes smoking, and fell down beside Sean, who had collapsed with the detonation.

"Sean! We've got to get out of here! Sean--can you hear me? We've--"

"Dyterra," he hissed, suddenly awake and grabbing his head. "Thanks and no thanks for saving me."

She opened her mouth to ask if he was alright, but he beat her to it. "You okay?"

"Never better," she grunted, helping him to his feet. "You?"

"You're really asking a guy that after you threw a bomb at him?"

"You're welcome for saving your life," said Clarity. "Now it's time for us to leave."

Sean nodded, "The tower."

Supporting each other, they started for the entrance, when one of the guards on the wall top shouted, "STOP WHERE YOU ARE! DON'T MOVE."

They looked up to find four rifles trained on their heads. Sean whispered so only Clarity could hear, "They can't kill us. They've had plenty of opportunities before now. Stallings needs us."

They started for the tower again, ignoring the guards' demands for surrender. Sean gripped the keypad next to the door and typed in two numbers. The lock clicked, the light on the pad blinking green.

The tower inside was musty and damp. There was only one room, ten-by-ten, a third of it taken up by a iron stairwell going upwards.

"What do we do now?" groaned Clarity.

"Up."

Clarity halted him with a hand on his shoulder and a sharp, "Sean!"

Heavy boots were pounding and rattling, coming down the iron stairs. A pair of legs appeared at the top of the stairs, the rest of the body following. Just before the guard's head became visible, Sean spotted a closet in the corner, next to a coat rack and bench, and opened the door.

Three other men came after the first guard. They jumped down the stairs, about to raise their weapons and call for surrender, when Clarity detached one of her smaller grenades, unplugged the pin, and sent it sailing. Sean grabbed her, flung them into the closet, and slammed the door.

The explosion rocked the building, cracking the walls and sending out a ripple of intense heat. Sean held his jacket over his and Clarity's head, their only protection in case the roof came down. But only a small cloud of dust and mortar hit them.

Hearts beating wildly, the two clutched each other, panting, breathing in the detritus. With a moan and a creak, the metal closet door slowly tipped forward and fell to the floor with a clang. The fire had completely blown away its hinges.

"Come on," muttered Sean, and together they stumbled into the wreckage. "More soldiers will be here any second."

Clarity stared at the bodies on the floor, some of their clothes still on fire. What was left of the men's skin was black. Sean took her hand in his, bringing her attention away from the corpses.

"Don't. Don't look."

"I killed them," she said, her voice strangely loud and harsh in the swirling silence of the tower.

"Yes, you did." Sean squeezed her fingers, "To save us... Come on. We need to go."

She let him lead her to the stairs, the first three of which had been scraped off the wall by the explosion. They hopped onto the wobbly steps. They went up around and around, until at last they emerged into the very top of the tower.  One door led to the North wall top, another to the East.

Clarity pointed out the North door window, "Sean, look! There are guards running this way!"

Sean's gaze was out the East door view, "They're coming from over there too."

"What do we do?"

"The tower is already unstable as it is. We set off another bomb we'll probably disrupt the entire structure and kill ourselves."

"Stop thinking about what we can't do and figure out what we can do!"

Sean went to the North door, "How much do you weigh?"

"Excuse me?"

"Never mind, it's only about fifteen feet. You should be able to make it, if we aim for one of the lower branches."

"Shut up and tell me what you're talking about!"

"I'm going to ignore the fact that that sentence was completely contradictory and tell you that I have a plan."

"What is--"

Sean cut her off by going out onto the North wall top. She was quick on his heels. He was leaning over the edge of the stone railing. Clarity followed his gaze the tree directly across from them. It was an enormous, sprawling cedar tree.

"Sean--wait--"

"We have to jump, Clarity."

"Sean--"

"There's no time! We'll be fine."

The guards were closing in from both sides. The ones on this North walkway were barely twenty feet away. Sean snatched up her hand again and climbed onto the thick stone railing, dragging her up behind him.

"It's simple physics," he said. "There's nothing to worry about. On the count of two we jump."

"Sean!"

"One--"

Clarity aimed at the closest cedar branch.

"Two--"

She bit her lip.

"JUMP!"

They leapt away from the wall, falling more than jumping. Clarity's hand slipped from Sean's. The cedar tree was inches away--and then they were crashing into it. Clarity grappled for something to break her plummet, but the world was spinning around her, green and black. Her stomach flipped.

Then she slammed chest-first into something thick and round and hung on with all her might.

"Sean?" she called in the darkness. The echoing cries of the guards on the compound wall top drifted down. Everything hurt.

"Sean?" she whispered again.

"Here, Clarity," he replied from somewhere below her.

"Are--are you alright?"

"No."

"Me neither."

"We're not far from the ground. Can you move?"

"I don't think so."

"We're going to have to. They're going to send more men after us. We have to get as far away as possible."

*laughs maniacally*
~The Scribbler in the Attic

Writers Wednesday || Part 16 - The Explosion

Wow. 11:39 p.m. I'm cutting Writers Wednesday pretty close...
Well, here it is at last! The next segment of This Name and Moment. I'm super excited because I'm finally getting to the parts of the story with helicopters and explosions. Do you ever, as writers, seem to just be waiting the entire book for a specific scene or scenario? Sometimes I've invented whole stories just to write one scene that I thought of and couldn't fit in anywhere else. It's a terribly inconvenient thing, but then again, I don't think writers are ever very convenient people.

- Part 16 -

The Explosion

Sean was really tired of running. And really tired of stairs. And really tired of florescent lights.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, between freaking out about the men chasing him and finding Clarity before she was killed, he remembered the Volva had said something about going to floor number three.

So three stairwells up, he skidded to a halt and tugged the door open.

It was a hallway, just like all the other floors, with three or four doors on either side. Bolting for the door at the end that led to a secondary staircase on the other side of the building, he caught glimpses through tiny windows of dark rooms filled with shiny, metal things in varying degrees of size and shape.

Sean stopped, realizing suddenly that he didn't hear any sounds of pursuit from the guards. For a moment he teetered, undecided. The Volva had said Clarity was in danger, but she also said he needed some kind of device. Were those shiny metal things it?

It was stupid, Sean knew. Because if he stopped and inspected every electronic piece of equipment in this building, he would never get to Clarity in time. But the Volva had specifically told him to go to this floor. There was no obvious reason except for what was inside those rooms.

Sean tried the nearest door. It opened with a squeak. He felt for a light-switch and flipped it on.

He would just grab a few of these things and then find Clarity. If these even were the things he needed. He had no way of knowing.

The room was cleaner than the others Sean had been in, with very white walls and floor, and blue mood-lighting around the edges of the floor and ceiling. Four tables were stationed in the center of the room, forming a square around open space, covered with the different cathodic instruments.

They were like nothing Sean had ever seen. The majority appeared to be metal snap bracelets. The smallest ones were about two millimeters thick and four-inches long, and fit perfectly around his wrist when he snapped it on. They had touch-screen surfaces, that came to life the instant he brushed it. The screen lit up with a blurry image of some sort of meter, like it was measuring something. If he stepped or moved slightly, it fluctuated. One end of the meter was bright green, the other dark blue. Right now, it looked like he had a lot of whatever the dark blue stuff was.

Clarity's image darted into his head with a painful jolt to his chest, and with no time left to really think whether or not this was what he was looking for, Sean quickly grabbed as many Sean-sized wrist devices he could. Then he jammed them into his pocket and zipped them closed.

Exiting the room, he made it to the secondary staircase and tried to remember more of what the Volva had said. Or… chanted.

Seventeen, fifteen, twenty-six, eight.  

But what did those numbers mean? Floors? Sean doubted there were twenty-six floors. Maybe twelve, at the most. Which disqualified all but the number eight. A code for one of the locked doors? But where was the front door of this place? He and Clarity had been over almost every inch by now, and all they had found were hallways and doors and stairs and stairs and stairs.

What was he supposed to do? Where was Clarity?

That's when Sean noticed a patch of sunlight on the stairs leading up. Twisting his head, he managed to catch a glimpse of the next landing. There was a window to the outside.

Heart hammering, Sean bounded up the stairs and stood breathless before the window, exuberant for something more than dirty white cement and florescent lights.

The compound walls stared back at him, blocking any view of the forest beyond, only allowing him to see the large yard of cement that separated the building from the stone fence. Across it were scattered piles of barrels, crates, anonymous rectangular-shaped structures strapped beneath tarps, various military-grade looking armored cars, and war machines. It was hard to make out anything more than the large stuff in the darkness.

The towers at the corners of the walls were patrolled  by a single guard and the wall-tops  by two. Their black helmets let off a gleam in the moonlight.

Sean's gaze was caught suddenly on a soldier striding away from the building, as if he had come through the wall directly below where Sean stood. There must be an exit to the outside on this stairwell. The other one had had no door because of the Volva.

With renewed hope, Sean skipped quietly down the stairs, determined to keep the guards off of his trail as long as possible. He was exhausted and afraid that if he started running again, he would be too slow.

But the question still at the forefront of his mind was--where was Clarity?

Suddenly, a gunshot shattered the silence. Sean ducked, losing his balance and stumbling down the stairs. He caught himself on the banister and listened as a high-pitched buzzing echoed through the stairway. Blood pounding in his ears, Sean leapt down the remaining steps to the ground-floor. Sure enough, there was a door to the outside.

It had a keypad.

Seventeen, fifteen, twenty-six, eight.

Sean jabbed in the first two numbers, and was about to do the next, when the lock on the door clicked. He yanked it open and stole outside.

The night was cool and windy. The smell of rain was in the air. In the darkness encroaching round the compound, he could hear the soft murmur of pine trees rustling against each other's needles.

The tower at the west corner was maybe a hundred and eighty feet away. Sean pressed against the shadows cast by the piles of crates and barrels, and made his way slowly and carefully in its direction. The guards made no sign they had heard the gunshot in the building.

Sean left the protection of an armored van for the heavier shelter of a dark-green tank, only fifty feet from the tower entrance now. He needed some way to get the guard away from the tower door. It was a long shot, but the tower just might have an outside entrance to the compound. If it did, then he and Clarity would have an escape route.

A pair of gunshots--fired outside--made Sean jump again. He crouched against the side of the tank, head hot with adrenalin. As he watched, the guards stiffened to attention, cocking their firearms and shouting to each other.

This was his only chance.

Sean staggered out from behind the tank and ran for the tower as the guards ran the opposite way, for the building.

Like a knife slipped into ice, fracturing it, the half-euphoric, half-terrifying moment of Sean's small victory was broken by the hoarse yells of the wall top guards drawing the attention of their comrades to the lanky figure lurching for the tower.   

Turning away from the building, they doubled back and came at Sean, darker shadows against the darkness.

Sean tripled his speed, and made it to the tower. A steel door and keypad greeted him.

He was about to try the last two numbers the Volva had given him, but the guards were within feet of him.

Floodlights suddenly bombarded the compound interior with blinding brightness, like a battering ram. Sean blinked rapidly against the spots burned in his retinas. That's when he spotted the figure sprinting up behind the two guards headed for him.

Clarity.

She was holding something in her hand. Sean just had time to recognize what it was before she gave a shout and threw it at the heels of the closing guards.

The explosion rocked the ground, fire and smoke and noise shattering the night. 

Help me out and leave critiques and comments below! Always love to hear from you guys. 
~The Scribbler in the Attic

Writers' Wednesday || Part 15 - The Message (and new characters!)

Wow. Sorry this took so long to get up. I tried to take a really epic picture for it, but they were all pretty bad. 

Hope you guys like it! 

- Part 15 -

The Message

Above the raging ocean, Blood Castle clung to the mountain precipice, old seaweed and damp gorse oozing from the cracks like puss from a wound. The lightning storm was whipping the sea into a foamy torment, the skies black with clouds. Waves lapped at the salt-encrusted stone stairway in the mountainside that led up from the beach to the fortress. Lorena Blood took a deep breath of the salty air, metallic with the electricity from the storm.

She stood at the open window, the silky curtains she had drawn away rippling in the wind. This castle had been a rotting corpse of driftwood before she arrived. But she had fixed that. She had made it a great fortress once again. Now, the village people intoned its name like a curse. Lorena Blood had made a good life for herself here, despite that this place had been intended to be her punishment. But she would gain the Master's trust and respect back.

And if not that, at least her life.

The sound of footsteps made her turn around. She moved slowly, unconcerned. An agent stood with hands in his pockets, maddenly arrogant like every idiot Stallings turned into a soldier for the Master. He was younger than the others, which only added to his smug attitude. She took in his crew-cut black hair, impeccable suit and trenchcoat, his bright but slow eyes.

She waited for him to speak first. When their eyes met, the man seemed momentarily surprised. His gaze swept her face and body, nervousness flooding his expression. Lorena smiled. This poor sap must be new.

"Freyja," he finally managed. Lorena crossed her arms elegantly and waited. "I've brought you a message from Stallings."

Lorena held out a pale hand for the slip of paper, blood red nails like claws clicking as they brushed each other. The agent placed it in her fingers delicately. His hand was gloved. Lorena wondered sometimes how they didn't get hot under all that clothing.

Turning her back to the young man, she unfolded the paper and read the three words printed on it.

Ragnorak is here.

Lorena crushed the paper in her fist. Stretching her hand out the window, she watched the message flutter in the wind as it dropped towards the ocean.

"That's it?" she asked, in a half-whisper.

"Yes."

Striding to her desk, Lorena quickly scribbled a reply. "Give this to Stallings."

The man seemed to shrink away from her even while he came closer to receive the note she held. She smiled again, and the agent flinched. He practically grabbed the paper from her. Then he was gone.

Lorena Blood found herself laughing as the room was suddenly empty. She glanced at the giant mirror over the mantle of the crackling fireplace. Emerald eyes flashed back at her. Her white skin looked whiter in the stark dimness cast by the storm, her red lips like blood in the half-light. How incredible it was what beauty could do to a man when he was confronted face-to-face with it.

A sour feeling trickled into her stomach as her thoughts once again retured to Stalling's message.

Ragnarok is here.

"I suppose we shall meet soon," Lorena said, leaning against the windowsill, reveling in the seaspray on her face. "I'll be looking forward to it, Ragnarok. Whoever you are."

I always love feedback, so feed me back! :)

~The Scribbler in the Attic

Monday Musings \\ Top Ten Authors I Own The Most Books Of

I've been wanting to do a post like this for a while, ever since I got the idea from Imogen Elvis's blog (go check it out, it's awesome.) I'm just going to list the top ten authors I own the most books of, and a little of why. 

Trenton Lee Stewart

A few years ago my sister and I got hooked on his Mysterious Benedict Society series, and received the entire box set for Christmas. His writing style is actually, I think, I a lot like J.K. Rowling's, which is probably one reason that I really enjoyed his books. But what I really loved best were all the characters he crafted. They were all the perfect kind of quirky that I like to read about.

Linda Windsor

Before Linda Windsor I had never read Christian Romance. Her Fires of Gleanmara series is seriously the best Christian book series I have ever read. She has some modern-day-romances, but all of the books I own of hers are set in medieval/Celtic history settings. Her research about the times, while not terribly in depth, is accurate, and I love reading about the rise and fall of Christianity during the Dark Ages, and always incorporates it so well into her romances.

Rick Riordan

At the moment I only own his Heroes of Olympus series. I wish that when I picked up the original Percy Jackson series that I had just bought them, because they are some of my favorite books ever. The Heroes of Olympus is not nearly as awesome as Percy Jackson and the Olympians, but I still love his books and his characters, and most especially his sense of humor. His books are the perfect ratio of deep/stupid/make-fun-of-themselves/informative/and well written.

Brian Jacques

I think Brian Jacques is one of the unsung heroes of fantasy fiction. His Redwall series is one of the things that helped me (and this is probably going to sound really weird) get over my strong apprehension of anything gory/gross/bloody. The series is set in Mossflower woods, which is populated by sword-wielding mice, arrow-shooting squirrels, dagger-throwing weasels, stoats, ferrets, potion-making foxes, sling-shot-slugging moles, and rapier-twirling shrews. Since all of the gore/violence was happening to animals, it worked as a nice transition for me to suck-it-up and get used to it with humans too. 

N.D. Wilson

Every single of his books are absolutely brilliant. That's basically all there is to say. I loved his One Hundred Cupboards series, am currently reading through his Ashtown Burials series, and really adored Leapike Ridge. His writing style takes a little getting used to, but once you do, you'll enjoy it immensely.

Andrew Peterson

While I have yet to read the latest book of his I bought, the last in his Wingfeather Saga, his books made me realize that I didn't just want to write stories about orphaned kids with no authority figures or parental guides. His characters manage to have exciting, breath-taking adventures without their parents getting killed or being dumped in an orphanage and forced to make world-altering decisions on their own. 

Lloyd Alexander

Half of the time I'm reading his Chronicles of Prydain series, I love it. All his characters make me laugh and his plots are awesome. The other half I want to slap the main character, tell him to suck in his pride and stop acting like a dufus. Taran, the main character, does make the right choice by the end of every story, and the very last book in this series is really one of the best ending-books I've read. 

John White

I'm not quite sure what to say about his books. He is the author I own the most books of, only for the reason that I got his whole Archives of Anthropose series for Christmas. His characters were okay, his plots were okay, and the world he built was okay, but I just couldn't really get into it. It took too much from Narnia and used way too many medieval-fantasy cliches.

Suzanne Collins

NO, I DO NOT OWN THE HUNGER GAMES TRILOGY.
Sorry, just had to get that out of the way. I liked the first two books in the Hunger Games, but wanted to throw the last book across the room (and would have, if I hadn't been borrowing it from a friend).
No, I own her Gregor the Overlander series. I have a love-hate relationship with these books. Her last book left me wanting more, and not in a good way. But Gregor was an awesome character for the most part, and the world she built was very well done. I'm glad I own the series, at any rate, though. :)

Eoin Colfer

I saved the best for last. Do you ever read one of those books that just makes to happy every time you read it? Everything hits in just the right way, and it's like honey-moon-mode all through the series?Most books I read, that feeling wears off by the last book, but with Eoin Colfer's books it stays like that the whole time. They just make me happy. His Artemis Fowl series especially. Each book of his is always awesome and his characters are superb.


Well, hope you guys enjoyed this and hoped it broadened your horizons for reading material!
Adios, 
~The Scribbler in the Attic  

Writers Wednesday || Part 14 - The Guy

- Part 14 -

The Guy

Had Kameron Keating, of Keating Signatures, actually met the woman he bumped into on that blistering day rather than yell at her, he would have discovered her name was Destiny Hale, she was twenty-one, and she worked at his company in the IT department.

Destiny let out a deep sigh as she sank into her office chair, sounds of rustling papers and chattering workers leaking through her cubicle's walls. She stared at the glass desk in front of her, at the shelves and the walls, all empty except for a few work files and random electronic devices. Three years she had worked at Keating Signatures, and her office was the only office without any personal odds-and-ends or pictures of family and friends.

It had been a week since she had bumped into Kameron, and she'd managed to completely avoid her employer since then. He still didn't know she worked here, and she hoped to keep it that way for as long as possible. As soon as he found out, she would probably be out of a job.

Destiny turned on her computer monitor and fought to keep her eyelids open as it came to life. She was exhausted from her search the past last week, but had no worries about getting her work done. The things they had her doing here were like coloring in a child's book. The technology in this world wasn't as advanced as it was in Aerethyst. She could purge one of their computer viruses in her sleep. 

The monitor alive, she stared at the only open window on the desktop. There he was, the boy who had stolen her computer, his face raw under the lights they used to take the mug-shot. Destiny had easily gotten into the police database, or whatever it was these people called it.

She had tried reporting the theft to the authorities first-thing, but they hadn't done much more than mandatory paper-work and a few phone-calls. In a city as big as Vittebyre, the police had bigger thefts and bigger criminals to worry about.

Destiny stared at the boy, only nineteen according to his records. His name was Tyler Barnett. Beside his picture was a list of locations he was known to go to--though the information was from years ago, when he was still a minor--and his emergency contacts. Destiny had already tried calling all of them; everyone either denied knowing the kid or refused to tell her anything. Or they were dead.

The echoing sounds of loud voices and clacking heels brought Destiny back into focus. She blinked and rubbed her eyes. A shadow passed over her cubical doorway, and a voice said, "'Scuse me, miss. But my secretary's out and I'm having problems with my computer."

Destiny's head jerked up as she recognized the voice. A chill of dread flushed her veins.

Kameron's eyebrows rose in surprise as he saw her. "You!" he cried. "You work here? I didn't know you worked here."

Destiny pushed up from her chair. "And I didn't know you worked here," she snapped, though it wasn't true. "If I had, I would have stayed clear of the whole block. Wouldn't want to ruin another one of your suits."

Kameron frowned, "Don't you know who I am?"

She gave him a look that could have frozen lava, "Yes, you're the jerk who let my computer get stolen. So in case you--"

Kameron's expression flashed suddenly to surprise as he noticed what was on the screen of Destiny's monitor, "Is--that's the fellow, isn't it? The thief who took your bag. How did you find him?"

"This isn't any of your business."

"But how did you find him? There are millions of people in this city--"

"Am I fired or not?" Destiny interrupted, angry and scared to death at the same time. If she lost this job…

"What?"

"Are you going to fire me? I ruined your suit after all."

Kameron sighed, irritated, "That was a bad day. I'm not going to fire you over a suit. Besides, I owe you one."

"Oh?"

"I let your computer get stolen, didn't I?" he asked, a little reluctantly.

Destiny didn't say anything. Kameron coughed uncomfortably and pointed down the hall, "I'll get someone else to help me with my computer."

Destiny folded her arms, determined not to let her face show just how relieved she was that she still had a job. The young company owner backed out of her cubicle slowly and disappeared around the corner. Destiny waited three seconds before letting out the breath she had been holding and collapsing into her chair.

On her monitor screen, the alarm was beeping.

Hope you guys are liking it. :) Tips, critiques and comments are always appreciated! 

~The Scribbler in the Attic

Monday Musings \\ BR - The Maze Runner Series

The Maze Runner Series by James Dashner

Premise: When Thomas wakes up in the lift, the only thing he can remember is his name. He's surrounded by strangers--boys whose memories are also gone.
Outside the towering stone walls that surround the Glade is a limitless, ever-changing maze. It's the only way out--and no one's ever made it through alive.
Then a girl arrives. The first girl ever. And the message she delivers is terrifying. (Taken from goodreads)

Soon, Thomas and the others find themselves in the midst of a battle, and neither side looks like the good side.

Language: There is lots of mild language scattered through out all three books, and the characters use a lot of made-up slang that sounds dirty but aren't really curse words.

Content: Murder, lots of gory deaths, fist-fights, a rather disturbing disease, corpses hanging from the ceiling, shooting, disturbing zombie-like creatures that they have to fight, and grisly death-by-lightning scenes.

Stars: Three for the over-all series, four for the first book (The Maze Runner), three for the last two (The Scorch Trials, The Death Cure).

I was all ready to enjoy this series and get a lot out of it.

I was deeply disappointed.

I really liked the first book. It was intriguing, never had a dull moment, had me on the edge of my seat constantly. The plot was a little blotchy, the main character's emotional range somewhere between Mount Everest and the Grand Canyon (plus, sometimes what was happening and what Thomas felt about it really didn't make sense and made you want to slap him), but it was still very enjoyable.

And then came the second book. One of my favorite characters just sort of disappeared during basically the entire thing except for the very beginning and the end. But the plot smoothed out from the first book, and all of the action was really cool and Thomas made a pretty awesome character.

Then… the third book.

I have a tendency to yell or squeal at books when I see something coming that I don't like and I'm basically threatening the author "DON'T YOU DARE!" or "Really, you use that line?" I did that for literally the entire climax of the last book. And the author still did exactly what I yelled at him not to do.

I really wanted to love to series. But I was disappointed. By the end, Thomas was acting like an idiot (though, he was still a very cool character), and the ending was (mostly) satisfying, but not exactly well done.

I have to give the author kudos though, for having absolutely no compassion on his characters. He just threw horrible thing after horrible thing at them, and it was all done masterfully and carried the story well.

It's hard not to say too much without giving everything away, but basically, when I finished this, I had to hug my sister for about 10 minutes, and told her I'd given up hope for Young Adult fiction.

But at the same time, I wouldn't say it isn't worth reading them. I did enjoy them, I just didn't like them.

Either way, I guess this review isn't really going anywhere. Mostly I just needed to post something today…

To conclude, frankly, this series has left me traumatized after lifting my hopes so high and then dropping me all the way down into the fiery center of the earth.

*sighs and finds a stuffed animal to hug and cry on*

~The Scribbler in the Attic