On Sunday, 31st of July, at 3:15 a.m. I wrapped my hands around a fresh new copy of Harry Potter and the Cursed Child. My friend and I attended the launch/Harry Potter birthday party, did a meet and greet with Hagrid, stayed out of Snape’s path, gorged on some wizarding candy… then waited patiently until the UK midnight release.
It was a work night and I went to the office on less than three hours of sleep, but you know, I didn’t mind because the party was quite fun and I thought it would be all worth it when I got home and sank into the book with a cup of piping hot tea.
“People who write fantasy and science fiction, like you [Brandon Sanderson], J. K. Rowling and many others… you aren’t authors; you’re writers. And these books are definitely not literature because they’re not real.”
Yesterday I had the pleasure of attending a panel discussion on the merits of children’s literature and how reading and a sense of curiosity and wonder should always be nurtured. The wonderful Brandon Sanderson – author of the Mistborn series – was there, and he spoke about his own experience with books and writing, and how – as a kid – he only became a reader when his teacher introduced him to fantasy. When all was said and done, one crusty critic blatantly told Sanderson that he doesn’t consider him or the likes of J. K. Rowling to be proper authors, just writers, and fantasy, science-fiction… that’s not literature, simply because it isn’t real.
A fantasy writer myself and a huge fan of Rowling and Sanderson’s work, I was seething. How dare he? But then Sanderson gave such a gratifying answer that left everyone clapping and the man looking around in defeat. He questioned this obsession with reality, what’s so wrong about things that aren’t real, what’s so wrong about imagining things? After all, there were many things that we currently have that weren’t real at some point, and would never have been if man hadn’t thought about them and imagined to be real. That power, that sense of wonder, is important to hold on to. Of course, he didn’t answer in so few words, but that was the gist of it. Continue reading “Fantasy isn’t literature.”→
My most recent bout of Writer’s Block lasted more than three months. It’s nothing compared to my five-year Block, but it was still frustrating. I felt stuck and didn’t know how to move forwards or backwards from a specific point in Penny for Your Dreams. For the first time since forever, I was actually editing and rewriting before completing my first draft. I rewrote one particular scene five or six times in hopes of striking an appropriate chord with my novel. Ultimately the solution turned out to be rather simple.
I was incorporating what I’d hopped would be Weasley twins incarnates into my novel. I liked them. I wanted to give them a lot of spotlight. I really wanted other people to like them. However, I ended up realising I could never produce characters that measure up to the Weasley twins. Not only that, I can’t even write twins without making them sound cliché or cheesy. So I did the next best thing and got rid of them. Well… more or less. Continue reading “Sorry – you didn’t make the cut.”→
Have you ever liked one of your own blog posts on WordPress, whether accidentally or on purpose? No? Well, the other day I accidentally liked a post of mine, and though I was quick to unlike it, WordPress caught me out and sent me a notification. However, this wasn’t similar to all the other notifications in which you lovely people like my posts because you think they’re awesome. 😉
Technically, the post was certainly about me, but that’s beside the point. Apparently liking it makes me vain. And you know what? So be it. I don’t mind being called vain for liking my own writing. There’s nothing wrong with feeling proud of my posts and novels, and I think every other writer feels the same way about their own work. In fact, I don’t think anyone would’ve gotten anything published if they weren’t. Continue reading “You’re so vain.”→
I’m a sap, I won’t deny it. I’m a sucker for touching tales and tearjerkers, even though they turn me into a blubbering mess and help me waste a number of tissue papers. I never bother telling myself not to cry anymore, because I know I will cry or get teary-eyed regardless. It’s something many people make fun of me of because I’m supposedly one tough cookie, and yet I cry buckets when I watch a touching scene.
I don’t think it’s bad, personally… hey, we’re all human, right? And it just means I’m easily moved by things. It takes one reunion, one confession of love, one moment where someone’s heart is on their sleeve, one farewell, one death or even a victory to turn on my waterworks. I can’t help it. Yesterday I even got tear-eyed over a talent show rerun. The lady was so incredibly happy when she won that I got really moved by it. Don’t laugh – these things can get highly emotional!