You ever have those posts where you can’t just think of a title because you’re not sure where you’re going in your writing yet? Even by the end of this I don’t think it’ll have a title. This is kind of a random rant; fair warning.
I want to start by saying I’m not a religious person. I didn’t grow up with it and never really had a desire to delve into that world. I don’t judge others on their beliefs as long as they don’t judge me on having no beliefs. On Friday I got to witness one of my very best friends on this planet marry his long time boyfriend. I remember years back when he would say if gay marriage was ever legal in Ohio he would marry within two months of it happening. So last year when it actually became reality you can imagine how we all felt. He didn’t stick to the within two months but that’s okay because it did happen. This wedding was the most last minute, thrown together wedding I’ve ever seen but it was bursting with love! I mean, it’s indescribable really but it made me feel some kind of way.
I always think about what I can have. What I mean is, you know how you look at other people’s lives and compare it to yours and always point out something you’re missing or maybe something you want? I used to have those moments. Back when I worked 3 jobs, 65 hours a week, always feeling as if I never had enough money and would always push and try harder to climb that ladder and be other people with their extravagant lives. It was always about the money you know? Money would buy more things and better my life and make me happy even though I’d had my long time boyfriend (now husband) who worked just as hard.
I look back now and just marvel at how silly I was being. I look back and see how I was measuring my happiness against how other people lived their lives. Was I striving for them or for me?
Slowly I began to stop caring. There are always going to be people in your life who judge you for whatever the hell they feel like judging you for. But then you look and you see those friends, those family members who don’t care about your 1998 loud ass car as long as the car gets you to the bookstore so you can spend all your money where it counts. The friends who don’t care that your house is a mess because it looks lived in and that’s all that matters. Those friends who don’t care that you’re broke most of the time because we can throw stuff together in the kitchen and watch YouTube videos all day. The husband who doesn’t care about your wild hair and unshaven legs when you’re lazy because he thinks you’re beautiful no matter what.
Then you really open your eyes and begin to see that you’ve been happy the whole damn time. And you go to the wedding that was thrown together last minute and share the joy of everlasting love in the chaos. You realize you’ve been there since day one and seen the good the bad and the ugly and throughout it all cheered your friends on and will continue to do so forever. That they recognized this in you and is the reason they selected you to experience their special day and the many days to come.
I don’t need to be money wealthy. Money is nice, don’t get me wrong, but it can never buy the connections that truly matter in this world. And for that, I am most grateful.
Now I’m going to go eat cake for breakfast. Have a Happy Sunday. 🙂
I just finished a book series that took me longer than usual to read. It was by an author I’ve read before and absolutely loved the first series. My usual reading genres are paranormal romance, sci-fi and contemporary romance/thrillers; sometimes a little bit of historical romance thrown in every once in a while. There are many sub-genres off the main ones such as urban fantasy, steampunk and space operas. Then you have Adult, YA (young adult), NA (new adult) and so on.
The general basis of any book to determine the genre is characters and the world. If your book is set in the 1600’s and has a Downton Abbey feel, you’re looking at a historical romance. But if it its set in the 1600’s and has boulders than can transport you back in time then you’re looking at a historical paranormal romance. Adult genres are usually based off the character’s age. Early 20’s and up is considered adult. 15-18 is young adult. Anything lower than age 15 is not usually a genre I explore; at least for now anyway.
The series I just finished was considered YA and NA. The character started the story at age 18 but ended up being about 23 or 24 by the end of the series. I’m not an expert but blending the lines between a young adult and a “new” adult can come easily to some authors and not so much for others. It’s that stage between leaving school and going off on your own whether it be college or some other route depending on the world you’re in. The story I read consisted of a young girl, a senior in high school, going through a transition from being a regular human to trying to find her place in the world with her friends. She ends up finding out she’s not completely human and that sets up the rest of the books in the series.
When you read a pilot or even watch a pilot you jump end expecting it to start out slow. You know the author (or director) is trying to build your imagination by creating a world and the characters in your mind. They want you to get to know the people and the places. They want you to grow attached to some and hate others. It’s necessary to keep your interest. They want to take you on this amazing, exhilarating, heart pounding, addicting ride. They usually succeed. You dive in deep, get comfortable and ready yourself to ride it out. You get so attached that you can hardly think of anything else except what is going to happen next. You expect the cliffhangers, crave them even because of the feelings they’ll leave you with.
And then you get to the last book in the series. The finale. The world was built. You have guesses, expectations, hopes. This is how I was feeling with the last book in my series. Halfway through I got excited, shocked, and sad. My guesses, expectations and hopes changed. I’m in the last 100 pages. This is it. The war is finally happening! THIS IS IT! And then — fade to black. What the hell? If you aren’t familiar with fade to black it’s essentially when you get the moment you’ve been finally waiting for but instead of getting the moment in detail you get a “5 years later” epilogue that looks back on your moment in a paragraph or two. I’m screaming inside. I feel like I wasted so many sleepless nights. I got past the YA/NA blend, the lame phrases and the questionable missing moments. I had my plot. It grabbed me and I held on! What do I get for that? A rushed ending. Why???
This pretty much ends my rant. I’m going to try a new series by an author I’ve never read before recommended by one of my favorite authors directly on Twitter. Crossing my fingers.