Meaghan’s Blog

I try not to complain, but sometimes things irk me far too much. I'll try and make this brief. If you do not fancy hearing me ramble, you may want to skip the better part of this entry.

Sarah had gotten a book out of the library and I decided to read it, just for kicks. It was previously published as four separate novels about these four fourteen-year-olds who are best friends decide that the remainder of their summer (about a fortnight, but for three it was just a week to find a boyfriend) should be spent trying to find summer romance (I know!). the first book was tolerable. The second, I liked the storyline but not how it was executed. The third I detested. The fourth I could not even bear to finish! It drove me nuts!

I cannot exactly put my finger on what it was that I just abhorred about the book, but I think it was how it was written - like someone had an afternoon or two to spare and didn't plan a thing for it, and just went very vague in all of it. The characters weren't really described in looks, and it was from their point of view, and there was too much talking. There was a certain vagueness (did I get that right?) that I could not stand - in Jane Austen, it was fine when she only said things were only handsome but not much detail . . . this book was just insufferable. Am I whining too much? Don't mind me. I will give the writer props for using big words occasionally, but that was about all I admired. May I add two more things? These four best friends - girls, I forgot to mention - hardly even seemed like that, as they seldom even communicated, except two friends and they only called each other twice (each person also made twenty million other friends, whom they communicated with more than the best friends). Not only this, but the boys they chose were for the wrong reasons. It was like they took what was second best or all they could get! This is no way to treat boys, not in my opinion. In the end, I could see they only really did get together with these boys so as to tell their friends they did, indeed, have a summer romance. Most of the girls didn't even really appear to like their choices, as they ought.

I regret spending my time reading it because since last night my eyes have hurt a lot from reading. I keep trying to place what it is that is so vexing about it . . . I come up with hardly a thing that makes sense. The books could have been longer and filled with less talking, I can assure you. I will stop now.

My story is at a standstill, but I have created two more novels I could do after I finish this series, which will take a very long time, but it is really nice to know I have other things to write when this is finished. I have Tazier, of course, and Olive, as you may recall  . . . as for my two other ones, one is about a girl (about twenty-ish) in Jane Austen's time, I suppose, who is a writer and falls in love with one of her characters. Now, I will not go into detail, because it's a rather dark story, and I would not want to spoil the fun of learning on your own. The other, which I thought up only a few nights ago, is about a girl in her teenage years (not sure what age) who is determined never to fall in love for whatever reason - I do not know yet - and, naturally, meets a boy who she tries not to like. It is set in some imaginary world somewhere that does not say where, really, but I know at the beginning she will definitely be climbing a big ladder up to the clouds to sit on them and the the sunrise/sunset, with her legs swinging over the edge - below the knee, that is. When she goes down the simply jumps off and floats down gracefully. This one all ends very well, the opposite of the other one. I shan't think about it too much, since I have the current one to think on.

There, I feel better now. Mostly just thinking of my stories makes me feel well again.