Don't get me wrong—I still enjoy the books, guilty pleasure though they may be. But my sister just gave me a couple of books to read; I've got to get hold of The Outsiders for February's book club; Dorothy Cummings McLean keeps adding to my to-read list, and the Pages Unbound girls are doing likewise—by the way, they're hosting a Lord of the Rings read-along, for anyone who might be interested—and, on top of having two books to write and a chant schola to direct in mid-February, I am currently in the grips of an Idea. It's making it hard to think about anything else.
by "Mel" at thetwilightsaga.com
It didn't strike me as shockingly revelatory, but it didn't bore me with old information, either. All of the characters were flatter and more one-sided even than in the Saga proper, but as a novelist, I cannot emphasize clearly enough that that's fairly characteristic of rough drafts. Drafting entails huge amounts of feeling your way forward, which makes it all too easy to overemphasize mental and emotional directions.
It's just a small aside in the story, but the best part, as far as this very tall girl was concerned, was the tale of Angela Weber and Ben Cheney. I felt like applauding. Romance is tough for those who don't easily fit the tall-burly-man-and-smaller-delicate-woman paradigm. Possibly the first time in my adult life that I was comfortable with my height was when I hit it off—albeit very briefly, and not necessarily romantically—with a friendly young man seven inches shorter than I am. There wasn't an ounce of the threatened look in his warm eyes or beautiful smile. After that evening, I went out and bought my first pair of high heels.
(Thanks, O Brief Acquaintance. I liked those shoes.)
Here's to Ben and Angela, then, and here's to not always fitting the cultural ideal of physical perfection. I'll drink to that!
* Possibly I should not be admitting to that. Eh.