Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Thursday, November 18, 2010
North of Beautiful
I just read North of Beautiful by Justina Headly. Great book!
North of Beautiful is about Terra Cooper, a complicated teenager in hopes of going to Williams Art college. Not really becuase of its high level of academic quality, but because its far, far away from home where her self-absorbed and judgemental father lives with her fragile and cowardly mother. Terra is fed up with her dad's constant, awful judgements on everything.
Another thing is Terra. She's beautiful, Tall, athletic, and blonde. But the problem is her birthmark, a large port-wine stain on her right cheek.
She meets Jacob, an attractive and quirky guy, who really understands her.
I really enjoyed North of Beautiful, and I recommend it to teens in the 15-18 region. I like it because to me its just enough of a challenge that I learn some new words, but I'm not clinging to a dictionary in order to understand everything that's going on.
North of Beautiful is about Terra Cooper, a complicated teenager in hopes of going to Williams Art college. Not really becuase of its high level of academic quality, but because its far, far away from home where her self-absorbed and judgemental father lives with her fragile and cowardly mother. Terra is fed up with her dad's constant, awful judgements on everything.
Another thing is Terra. She's beautiful, Tall, athletic, and blonde. But the problem is her birthmark, a large port-wine stain on her right cheek.
She meets Jacob, an attractive and quirky guy, who really understands her.
I really enjoyed North of Beautiful, and I recommend it to teens in the 15-18 region. I like it because to me its just enough of a challenge that I learn some new words, but I'm not clinging to a dictionary in order to understand everything that's going on.
Chapter 1 (continued)
Ava's vivid blue eyes widened at the sight before her. Surely she wasn't dreaming, but how could she be awake?
She stepped back from the stone window and turned to see her sister and best friend- Jessie- stretched out on the one couch in the girls' shared dorm.
"Jessie!" Ava said eagerly. But there was no response, as her sister was totally captivated by the story in her hands. "Jesse!" she called again, louder this time. She glanced out the window to make sure the birds were still perched on the same branch. In legend, Ava knew, they didn't fly away until dusk, but one could never be sure. Nevertheless, they were still exactly where they were the first time she had looked.
Again Jessie ignored her sister's persistant cry for attention, and Ava gave vent to an unnaturally loud sigh before crossing the room and snatching the book away from her.
"Hey!" Jessie cried injuredly, making a cat-like swipe for her book. As Ava held the book out of her reach, she gazed longingly at the window and said urgently;
"You need to come see something- now!"
"No! Gimme back my book!" Jessie protested, frowning.
"Just look!"
"C'mon, Ava," Jessie whimpered. "Let me read. I'll look later. I promise." Her eyes- wide and pleading- reminded Ava of a stray dog hoping for a scrap of meat.
"Just come look for five seconds. It's important." Ava told her sister firmly.
"Fine." Jessie stood up and crossed the room to look out the window.
Outisde, the town was doused in a golden late afternoon sunlight. Merchants and townsfolk haggled prices, fishermen hauled in nets that gave evidence of a succesful trip, and free lance musicians played on the street hoping for a coin or two from those passing by. Further on there was the streetside houses were small children played by the road and even smaller children sat in the arms of their mothers, babbling stupidly about nothing. It was as typical as every other day. Pretty, to be sure, but nothing less than ordinary.
She stepped back from the stone window and turned to see her sister and best friend- Jessie- stretched out on the one couch in the girls' shared dorm.
"Jessie!" Ava said eagerly. But there was no response, as her sister was totally captivated by the story in her hands. "Jesse!" she called again, louder this time. She glanced out the window to make sure the birds were still perched on the same branch. In legend, Ava knew, they didn't fly away until dusk, but one could never be sure. Nevertheless, they were still exactly where they were the first time she had looked.
Again Jessie ignored her sister's persistant cry for attention, and Ava gave vent to an unnaturally loud sigh before crossing the room and snatching the book away from her.
"Hey!" Jessie cried injuredly, making a cat-like swipe for her book. As Ava held the book out of her reach, she gazed longingly at the window and said urgently;
"You need to come see something- now!"
"No! Gimme back my book!" Jessie protested, frowning.
"Just look!"
"C'mon, Ava," Jessie whimpered. "Let me read. I'll look later. I promise." Her eyes- wide and pleading- reminded Ava of a stray dog hoping for a scrap of meat.
"Just come look for five seconds. It's important." Ava told her sister firmly.
"Fine." Jessie stood up and crossed the room to look out the window.
Outisde, the town was doused in a golden late afternoon sunlight. Merchants and townsfolk haggled prices, fishermen hauled in nets that gave evidence of a succesful trip, and free lance musicians played on the street hoping for a coin or two from those passing by. Further on there was the streetside houses were small children played by the road and even smaller children sat in the arms of their mothers, babbling stupidly about nothing. It was as typical as every other day. Pretty, to be sure, but nothing less than ordinary.
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Finding Tunnels, Chapter 1
The birds weren't black. They weren't blue, either, but the colors were so closely blended that its shade was best described as midnight. A single white mark ran undisturbed down its back, creating a startling mark of contrast. This bird, on its own, was a specimen of rarity only seen from time to time. It was rumored that if one saw a midnight dove, they were to have good fortune for at least a year. 'Just silly rumors,' most would say.
But to see a midnight dove with another exact replica of its kind- as Ava Hart was now doing- was a phenomenon unknown to most, with the exception of very few. It was also the foretelling of an event that only happened once per decade- the Festival of Dances.
And yet... there they were- midnight bodies, white stripes- sitting casually on the outstretched bough of an oak as if they didn't quite know the significance of their companionship...
Comments, please.
But to see a midnight dove with another exact replica of its kind- as Ava Hart was now doing- was a phenomenon unknown to most, with the exception of very few. It was also the foretelling of an event that only happened once per decade- the Festival of Dances.
And yet... there they were- midnight bodies, white stripes- sitting casually on the outstretched bough of an oak as if they didn't quite know the significance of their companionship...
Comments, please.
Riddle #1
THE FOUR BROTHERS
There are four brothers in this world that were all born together.The first runs and never wearies.The second eats and is never full.The third drinks and is always thirsty.The fourth sings a song that is never good.what are the brothers names?
There are four brothers in this world that were all born together.The first runs and never wearies.The second eats and is never full.The third drinks and is always thirsty.The fourth sings a song that is never good.what are the brothers names?
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Open Your Eyes
Can you see it?
Your own imaginary world? The one you dream up as a small child and still think of from time to time? Do you remember the exciting tales you told others... the ones with dragons, thieves, and princesses who stood at their window, daintily waving at their knight in shining armor? Or, in my stories, the down-to-earth princess who whacked the prince over the head, stole his horse, and sought a life of adventure for herself.
Writing a story isn't just telling a tale. It's making a work of art; creating a place for people to visit so that they can feel a taste of adventure themselves. So, take your pen, find a piece of paper, and let the adventure begin. Explore mountains. Meet your handsome prince. Have your life saved once or twice. And, when you're ready...
You can fight dragons.
Your own imaginary world? The one you dream up as a small child and still think of from time to time? Do you remember the exciting tales you told others... the ones with dragons, thieves, and princesses who stood at their window, daintily waving at their knight in shining armor? Or, in my stories, the down-to-earth princess who whacked the prince over the head, stole his horse, and sought a life of adventure for herself.
Writing a story isn't just telling a tale. It's making a work of art; creating a place for people to visit so that they can feel a taste of adventure themselves. So, take your pen, find a piece of paper, and let the adventure begin. Explore mountains. Meet your handsome prince. Have your life saved once or twice. And, when you're ready...
You can fight dragons.
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