I Try Not to Read Them

One of the best pieces of advice I've ever read (and I can't even tell you who said it--probably just about any writer who's ever written) was to not read reviews of your work. A good review can set you soaring, but a bad review can tear you to shreds.

I read that advice, and I said, "Whatever, I can take a bad review. Constructive criticism, right?"

Kind of.

The problem with bad reviews is that they fall into two categories: 1) people who actually put thought into them and do legitimately offer good advice on improving your writing and what could be improved in the story, and 2) people who just don't like your book but can't articulate why and instead rip you up one way and down the other.

So I started with every intention of reading bad reviews with the intent to find ways to improve my writing, but I quickly ran up against that second kind of bad review. You can guess how depressing the second kind of bad review can be. But it's like a car crash--no matter how gruesome the wreckage, you just can't look away. But finally I stopped and breathed a great big sigh of relief. Because no matter how hard I work and how much time I put into making my story the best story possible, there's always going to be someone who doesn't like it. And that's okay.

So the purpose of this post (I realize it got away from me!) was to thank book blogger Pam from Between the Bookcovers for the kind words she posted about The Burn. The book has been out for nine months now, and it still makes me giddy when someone new likes it. So thank you, Pam.

And for those of you wondering where The Reaping stands, I just finished another draft. One step closer :)

Why I Like Sports

Nope, I'm not an avid sports watcher. Sure, I'll watch the occasional game if I actually care about who wins. Does that happen very often? No, not really.

So why do I like sports, you ask? Because my husband loves to watch sports. And when my husband watches sports, I am soooo productive. Case in point? He's watching the NBA finals, and I'm getting writing done. And sitting nearby.

It's a good situation, I think.

A Little Scare

So the hubby and I love to watch movies together. We'll rent a movie almost every weekend and enjoy the time together once the girls are in bed. And my husband really likes that he married someone who isn't big into chick flicks. Yup. Most of the time, I can't stand them. Too cheesy, too predictable, and the characters often times drive me nuts. So our genres of choice are quite diverse, and he's glad he doesn't have to put up with chick flicks very often.

Last weekend we rented The Woman in Black. I admit I was curious to see if Daniel Radcliffe had actually graduated from Hogwarts and could hold his own in a "grown-up" movie. I'm glad to report that yes, yes he can. (Though he still looks waaaaay too young. Maybe he'll start aging eventually? Kind of a funny problem, considering all those kids were like 22 when they finished filming Harry Potter.)

Anyway, I don't normally go for scary movies. I have an over-active imagination (not a problem when it comes to writing, but certainly problematic when it comes to real life) and I usually freak myself out to an obscene degree. But from the reviews I read, The Woman in Black was more about the suspense and the jump-at-you moments than gore and creepiness, which I absolutely cannot handle. Remember The Ring? Yeah, I was creeped-out for weeks.

So we watched it, and it was a decent flick. Sad, really, and the ending was ambiguously poetic. But it just affirmed to me that I do not like watching scary shows. I was way too tense the whole time with that awful pit in my stomach to actually enjoy the film. But afterward, much to my surprise, no nightmares and I fell asleep quite quickly.

But the reason I'm writing this post...So last night my girlie comes in asking for a drink, and after I get her settled and myself back in bed, I start thinking about the movie. Augh! For the love! It was last Friday--I hadn't given it a second thought since then--and now I'm getting freaked out about it? So after snuggling as close to hubby as I could without waking him up and burying myself under the covers (and absolutely refusing to look at my bathroom door which was eerily similar to the dark hallway the woman in black liked to haunt), I finally fell asleep.

And I'm not watching another scary movie for a very long time.

Hot, Hot Summer

So summer has come in with a bang. After reaching 112 degrees last week, I said, "Yup, it's here." I think I was in denial. Major denial. But that's Phoenix for you. Enough to melt you into a puddle. So we've had swim lessons and hours in the pool and popsicles and playing in the sprinklers in the backyard. Usually this time of year rolls around and I just want to sit on the couch where I'm in reach of the ceiling fan's breeze and do nothing.

But after a week of having little to no motivation to work on The Reaping and procrastinating until it wasn't even funny any more, I've hit a groove. Phew. I was starting to get worried. Because, confession: there's a big reason I haven't had the energy to work on it. Okay, it's technically a little reason, weighing no more than about a pound at the moment, but here it is: another little cute girl will be joining our family in October. And needless to say, my energy has been at about a zero. So big hooray for hitting a groove.

It was about time.

And I'm sure glad it's hit because Terra's story is looking pretty exciting right now, and I'm thrilled to be working on it.