Both of these books are f/f books and therefore I thought it’d be fun to review them together!
I am really late with both of these reviews because the books are already out. So I’m doing two mini reviews! Both books couldn’t be more different, The Witch Doesn’t Burn in This One by Amanda Lovelace is poetry and Sneaking out is YA murder/mystery.
I only just found out about the #TackleTBR readathon but I decided to participate, so here is my sign-up post! The readathon starts tomorrow (11 September) and ends on the 24th, so it’s two weeks long. Meaning, plenty of time to catch up on some of those books on my tbr! You can find more information about the readathon here! Continue reading “#TackleTBR Readathon Sign-Up + Some poetry”
I normally post on Sundays and I was planning to do so yesterday as well, but life got in the way (and also this thing I did on twitter). Oops. Anyway, I’m going to make it up to you by posting today! It’s even more elaborate than I initially was going to make it, because I got inspired yesterday night (as in: in the middle of the night because who needs sleep when you can write? Me, obviously.).
Maybe I didn’t rise
from the ashes
of my shattered heart,
Maybe I just
and started walking
Maybe I didn’t mend
all the pieces
of my fractured heart,
Maybe I just
picked them up
and hoped for the best
Maybe it didn’t
make me stronger,
~I’m not strong because of it, I’m strong despite of it.
I’ve been “working” on my current writing project for a few months now and I like it but it doesn’t really interest me that much anymore, so I’m giving myself a break from it. Maybe I get back to it, maybe I don’t. At this moment, I honestly don’t care that much… But I do have several new ideas I’d like to work on of which one you might have heard about before (on Mahriya’s blog, because I won this round of The Typewriter’s Project :D).
- Our Shattered Minds
This is a story/novel idea about 4 very different people who sort of share one mind. I’m not 100% sure whether it will be a multiple personality disorder kind of thing, or a more sense8 kind of thing (in which the characters are connected without them being the same “person”). But there is magic and in some way, the characters split their lives which messes up the magic in the world (which is called Caligan). They’ll have to fix it. It’s all very vague yet but I really like it. If there ever were a sequel I would call it These Fractured Shadows.
If you click on the image and press show full size you can read the small text 🙂
- What We Wrote on the Bathroom Walls
This is a story idea I had a few weeks ago and it kept me up half the night.
I really need to get back into a regular sleeping schedule that doesn’t involve me falling asleep past 1 am every single night. The story is in it’s entirely told by things people wrote on bathroom walls. It’ll be a story about high school and bullying. I’m still struggling with the format and how it’s supposed to look and work but I really like this idea.
This is a snippet from the first story/novel idea I wrote about, Our Shattered Minds. This is about one of the characters (she’s an assassin and badass).
This was the part she enjoyed most. The flirtatious eye-lid fluttering, the giggling about silly jokes, the hasty brushing of fingertips and lips, the pleasure of luring someone in. It was the part of anticipation, of wonder. The part of seduction and sensation.
What came next was something that Emery wouldn’t gladly admit made her feel at ease. The power of having someone’s life in your hands, completely and utterly, was something that topped every drug she had ever tried. And she had tried a lot. She liked it bloody, knifes and swords, sometimes even a gun, but her orders were to be swift and clean. So she was. With a quick swipe of her fingertips along the man’s jaw her magic did its job. She could feel his heart beat slowing, like it were her own. Every single drop of blood in his body slowed its movement, finally coming to a stand-still. His heart stopped, and hers bounced louder in her chest.
Euphoria. That was what it felt like.
I hope you liked this! I’m going to try to do bi-weekly writing posts, which means on Sunday I’ll alternate between Newbie Bloggers and writing. Are you also a writer? Had any cool story ideas lately?
I wanted to share some things I wrote recently, and well… that’s basically all I wanted to say, so enjoy! (
I have never written poetry before so don’t be too hard on me pls)
There is infinitely more space
between the stars,
than there is between us
but you are like a star
far on the horizon
and I am standing
here on earth.
Your brilliant eyes meet mine
across our universe
But you don’t see me
You drift faster than
the speed of my light
and my radiance
can’t reach you.
With everything I have
within my bones
I wish I could touch you
for a single second
black holes engulf me
and I am drowning
in our everything.
~I miss you.
Sticks and stones
might bruise me,
but words break me
and broken things
I travel too wide
for the true and magnetic
found between a whisper and a smile.
~and I haven’t found it yet.
This is something I wrote for the second task for The Typewriters Project by Mahriya from My Bookish Life. It is the beginning of the story that I talked about last week, over here.
The ropes of Wren’s fate were hard to tie together. He had tried for days, weeks, months, years but he just couldn’t make it fit. Aeriel would keep trying, because He had given him this task, and that probably meant He trusted that Aeriel could make it work. The ropes were rough to handle, and it seemed like this fate, that lied in his hands, was much harder to tie, compared to all the other angels’. Or it was just his incapability at work again.
His inner eye showed the girl being kicked out of her home and his grip on the ropes loosened. He feared what would happen if he let go. Not only the girl’s fate would be ruined, but his too. Aeriel would lose his home, just like Wren did.
He felt strangely connected to this odd girl. Her skin, as white as snow, just like the rest of her appearance. She was a blank, in a world of colour. She was seen, even when she didn’t want to be seen. Aeriel, on the other hand, was not seen, he was a wallflower. He wondered whether the other angels in his ranks would even know his name.
The girl, now broken in tears, lay crying on the steps to her former home. It broke Aeriel’s heart in a million pieces and before the angel realized it, the ropes slipped from his bloody hands, exhausted from the constant pressure. He caught a glimpse of the rope, falling into the nether below. Less than a second later, his eardrums started shaking from the loud noise. It was God’s voice and it was angry. This was it: the end, Aeriel thought.
Aeriel falls, millions and millions of miles, a bright light engulfing him. His angelic wings had made place for a smoother, more streamlined kind, black and small. Ironically, he had become a bird, again showing his connection to the girl. The first thing the no-longer-angel thought was, when his little feet hit the ground, that if he couldn’t save Wren from up there, he’s going to have to do it from down below.
And here is a more recent snippet from my work in progress:
Margo continues, “I never was brave, but something in her made me walk up to her and ask what was wrong. She showed me one of the most wonderful drawings I’ve ever seen and said in broken English: this. This is what’s wrong. It just doesn’t work.”
She smiles, reminiscing her happy memory, “and I said, if that’s wrong, I don’t want to be right.”