I've just read today's FBOFW and it made me want to scream. How disgustingly obvious is it that Warren McPlotContrivancePants is going to fly Liz up to Mtigwaki in his helicopter a day early so that she can stumble upon Suds and Chipper in all their faithless glory, and flee tearfully back to southern Ontario to throw herself into Granthony's wimpy arms?
BARF BARF BARF
I hope I'm totally wrong about this, but I have very little hope. Curse you, Lynnions!
On a positive note, I have library books. Lois Lowry's Messenger
, Wendy Mass's A Mango Shaped Space
(thank you for the rec, variella
) and Jeffrey Moore's The Memory Artists
. The latter two books are about synaesthesia, so I can tear my hair out over things like Wendy's heroine being named Mia and mine being named Thea, and sink into bleak despair at the realization that everything I wanted to say in Touching Indigo
has been said before and better by somebody else.
Kind of like I'm currently tearing my hair out over the fact that I cannot write a 250-word hook for Knife
that doesn't confuse the heck out of people who haven't read it and give them a totally wrong impression about the story.
I can't not
write, but sometimes I think I ought to take up an easier and more soothing occupation, like carving the 23rd Psalm in medieval script onto individual grains of rice.