Brace yourselves for some serious boo-hooing. What better way to celebrate the end of the week, right? Today is the Sad Songs Blogfest, hosted by Spunk on a Stick, so pop over to the link to see her song choices and the list of fellow boo-hooers!
(Sorry if it takes me a while to visit everyone on the list. I'll do my best!)
What the blogfest is about: list the songs that move your spirit, cut deep into your soul, and threaten to break your heart.
I love this theme! Some of the greatest songs in the world are sad songs. I sing to my baby (whether he likes it or not is another question, but that's neither here nor there), I yowl in the shower, I listen to the radio in the car, and, most importantly, I write with music. All of my books/stories/projects have a playlist (in fact, you can see THE LOST GIRL's playlist here.)
Which means picking just a few songs was almost impossible, but here we go. They're in no particular order.
What these songs are about doesn't really matter. The only thing they have in common is all of these have made me cry. Yes, I am a sap.
1. Someone Like You, Adele
Ah, Adele. I'm sure this song is supposed to be as hopeful as it is sad, but I bawl. Bawl like a baby.
2. White Blank Page, Mumford & Songs
If you haven't heard this one, go do it. It's amazing.
3. Now We Are Free, Hans Zimmer and Lisa Gerrard
Okay, so I don't even know what Lisa's singing about, but if this song didn't make you weep copious tears at the end of Gladiator, you're not human. I'm just sayin'.
and finally
4. My Heart Will Go On, Celine Dion
I know. Cheesiest choice ever, right? But I can't help it. There's that bit at the end, where everything crests, and I shed embarrassing tears every time. (Seriously cannot believe I'm admitting this...)
Before I launch into today's post, I just want to thank everyone for all the lovely comments about my cover reveal and ARC giveaway last week - you're the best!
And onwards. Today marks the release of blogger and author Alex J Cavanaugh's second book CassaFire, and he's having a massive blog party to celebrate - yay! If only cakes and cookies could be snatched through cyberspace... ah, well. Alex is also running a blog tour until the 9th of March and anyone who comments on his blog during that time could win a special goodie bag from his publisher, so pop over to his blog and check it out.
CassaFire
by Alex J. Cavanaugh
CassaStar was just the beginning…
The Vindicarn War is a distant memory and Byron’s days of piloting Cosbolt fighters are over. He has kept the promise he made to his fallen mentor and friend - to probe space on an exploration vessel. Shuttle work is dull, but it’s a free and solitary existence. The senior officer is content with his life aboard the Rennather.
The detection of alien ruins sends the exploration ship to the distant planet of Tgren. If their scientists can decipher the language, they can unlock the secrets of this device. Is it a key to the Tgren’s civilization or a weapon of unimaginable power? Tensions mount as their new allies are suspicious of the Cassan’s technology and strange mental abilities.
To complicate matters, the Tgrens are showing signs of mental powers themselves; the strongest of which belongs to a pilot named Athee, a woman whose skills rival Byron’s unique abilities. Forced to train her mind and further develop her flying aptitude, he finds his patience strained. Add a reluctant friendship with a young scientist, and he feels invaded on every level. All Byron wanted was his privacy…
CassaFire is the sequel to Cavanaugh’s first book, CassaStar, an Amazon Top Ten Bestseller.
Doesn't it sound cool? Alex's sci-fi/space opera is available now. Visit his blog for links to buy, more details, and a very very cool book trailer.
This is a big month for Jessica Bell, whose literary novel String Bridge releases in Kindle and paperback, and I'm so excited to be part of her blog tour! Here's a little bit more about Jessica and her book- Jessica Bell is a literary women's fiction author, poet and singer/songwriter who grew up in Melbourne, Australia, to two gothic rock musicians who had successful independent careers during the '80s and early '90s.
She spent much of her childhood travelling to and from Australia to Europe, experiencing two entirely different worlds, yet feeling equally at home in both environments. She currently lives in Athens, Greece and works as a freelance writer/editor for English Language Teaching publishers worldwide, such as HarperCollins, Pearson Education and Macmillan Education. In addition to String Bridge, Jessica has published a book of poetry called Twisted Velvet Chains. A full list of poems and short stories published in various anthologies and literary magazines can be found under Published Works & Awards, on her website.
From September 2012 Jessica will be hosting the Homeric Writers' Retreat & Workshop on the Greek island of Ithaca, home of Odysseus. You can find her online here.
As for String Bridge, this is from the Amazon blurb-
Greek cuisine, smog and domestic drudgery was not the life Australian musician, Melody, was expecting when she married a Greek music promoter and settled in Athens, Greece. Keen to play in her new shoes, though, Melody trades her guitar for a 'proper' career and her music for motherhood. That is, until she can bear it no longer and plots a return to the stage--and the person she used to be. However, the obstacles she faces along the way are nothing compared to the tragedy that awaits...
The book is available on Amazon, Amazon UK and Barnes and Noble. It also, rather excitingly, has its own soundtrack (composed by Jessica - I KNOW, is there anything she DOESN'T do??), which you can find here.
And what did I think of this book?
Read it. I don't want to say too much about the plot because I don't want to give anything away, but String Bridge is painful, and exhilarating, and the 'tragedy' so tantalizingly teased in the blurb? Oh boy.
Characters are important to me and I wasn't disappointed. I didn't always like Melody or agree with her choices, but I rooted for her. And I hated her husband from the off. It's a huge point in the book's favour that these characters make it feel real.
I will admit that, personally, this isn't a genre I often read. And I know why: it's because I sometimes struggle with literary fiction and there were times I struggled a little here, with small sections where I just wanted more to happen. But I never wanted to stop reading.
Finally, music plays a huge role in this story and I loved that about it. From the title to the main character Melody's name to the huge impact music and love of music has on the plot, it's not just a device: it's an inextricable part of the story. Often books play on a passion without really making that passion a living, breathing part of the story; sometimes, though, that passion comes through and it does here. You may not always like Melody - or you may, I don't know, I can only speak for me - but you'll understand her because Jessica makes you understand how she feels about music. That's what, to me, really made this book shine.
It's another blog hop day - a big welcome to any new visitors! - and this time it's for the Halloween weekend! Hosted by Jeremy Bates, this blogfest is all about favourite monsters and costumes - a full list of other monster-talkers is up on Jeremy's blog here. Normally picking a favourite anything is hard for me, because I usually have so many, but this time it's a no-brainer. My favourite monster book is Frankenstein.
Apart from the fact that I think it's an amazing, deliciously creepy concept and such a sad story, this novel will always have a special place in my heart because it's an enormous part of the inspiration behind my first book, THE LOST GIRL. Without Mary Shelley and Frankenstein, I'm not sure I'd have been able to write a book about stitching a person together from scratch. And without Frankenstein's Creature, I'm not sure I could have made my stitched-together echoes quite as real.
So there's what I'm celebrating this weekend! Who's your favourite monster?
Today is the Pay It Forward Blogfest, hosted by Alex J Cavanaugh and Matthew MacNish - and if you don't know what that is, pop over to their blogs for the details and the list of participating bloggers, because it's such an awesome idea! Basically we're supposed to pick three of our favourite bloggers, people we think everyone should follow, and say a little bit about them. It seemed like a great way to discover new blogs and meet new people, so I signed up as soon as I had a chance.
Picking my three hasn't been easy, though. There are so many blogs I absolutely love and so many people I'd want to mention - in the end it was pretty much a case of 'pick three names out of a hat of favourites'.
Alex at Odd Socks and Pretty Frocks Alex is smart and funny and so nice and everyone should check her blog out at least once! It's primarily a fashion blog but she also talks about books, work, life and she's just started working on a novel - so go over and encourage her!
Bethany Yeager at Ink-Splattered A writer (like many of us), Bethany's posts about characters, plot and writing in general are always fresh and interesting and I never get tired of reading her.
Jim Murdoch at The Truth About Lies Jim's posts about novels, poetry and plays are always incredibly detailed, thoughtful and illuminating. It must take him ages to write up each one; seriously, I'm always in awe when I stop by his blog.
Quite a random pick of choices, but, like I said, it was so hard to choose just three favourites I had to grab at a few names from a great list.
A big thank you to Alex and Matthew for hosting this blogfest - and happy weekend, everyone!
PS. I think I'm going to struggle to comment on every blog in the master list of participants, but I am going to try and make my way through the whole list and follow - so if you don't see many comments from me, it's not because I haven't been round!
Tomorrow is the Worst Movies Ever Blogfest, hosted by the awesome Alex J. Cavanaugh. I thought I'd post mine early because I'm going to be out and busy all of tomorrow. Thanks for stopping by - pop over to Alex's blog to find a list of the other entries! So I'm supposed to pick the ten worst movies I have ever seen and have a good ol' rant about them. I thought this would be easy. I have had my fair share of red-faced bitching sessions after seeing a particularly godawful piece of would-be film. And yet, now that I'm trying to think of the worst ones, I'm coming up blank. Typical. So I won't make it to ten (sorry, Alex!) but here are a few of my top choices-
The Twilight Saga: Eclipse I'm not comparing this to the book. Or anything like that. Purely as a movie, standing on its own two feet, this was appalling. I thought Bella came off as an indecisive, spoiled and altogether shameless hussy (in what way is it ever acceptable to agree to marry one man, then start passionately kissing another bloke in front of your fiance? Hmm?), Jacob's penchant for toplessness grew old fast, and I just wanted to break Edward's face because he should have told Bella to take a hike the moment she started being such a t***. And all this might have been bearable if the other characters had a chance to be anything but puppets in the background, but sadly, no. Clearly someone decided K-Stew, R-Patz and T-Laut(?) were it. Gah. Bride Wars Oh my word. I liked the trailer. I thought I'd like this. Alas. None of the characters were likeable. I thought everyone needed a smack. And the whole premise - best friends falling out because of a double-booked wedding - ended up being a lot less funny because it was hard to care about any story involving friends so close and so loving, they're willing to ruin and sabotage the other's wedding day. I did laugh. At how bad this was. And if I'm going to get really rant-y, I'll also add that this movie insults women - and brides. Epic Movie I know this is supposed to be a spoof, and bad-in-a-good-way and all that, but no. Just no. It's bad in a bad way. It burned away at least three good layers of my brain. And I actually like Kal Penn and Jayma Mays. Usually. I Am Number Four Mr Main Character needed to be beaten with a broomstick. And I could have broken a limb falling through the plot holes. Star Wars Episode II: The Attack of the Clones along with Star Wars Episode I and Star Wars Episode III Now I'm not some sort of desperate, do-or-die fan of the first/original movies. I won't clobber you if you dare to say nasty things about them. In fact, I will even admit there are a few things lacking in the original trilogy (dialogue that doesn't make you cringe, for a start). But holy Heathcliff, the prequels don't even deserve to be associated with the good Star Wars name. They are painful. In over six hours of cinematic footage, I can only think of five good things- 1. Ewan McGregor 2. Yoda 3. Everyone's favourite pair of droids 4. Chewbacca's brief appearance 5. and the fact that Padme, the annoying imbecile, dies. Yeah, sorry if I spoiled that for you. You don't want to watch it anyway. And my list of the not-good things? Long. Starting with 1. Hayden Christensen. Well. I got to five (seven if you count all three of the Star Wars prequels). Halfway there, at least! What would be on your list?
Today is the official launch day of Talli Roland's second novel Watching Willow Watts - and she's hosting a fun 'If I Could Be Anyone, I'd Be...' websplash to celebrate! If you have a minute do pop over to her blog and celebrate with her, if you haven't already!
Here's a little bit about Willow's story-
For Willow Watts, life has settled into a predictably dull routine: days behind the counter at her father's antique shop and nights watching TV, as the pension-aged residents of Britain's Ugliest Village bed down for yet another early night. But everything changes when a YouTube video of Willow's epically embarrassing Marilyn Monroe impersonation gets millions of hits after a viewer spots Marilyn's ghostly image in a frame.
Instantly, Willow's town is overrun with fans flocking to see the 'new Marilyn'. Egged on by the villagers -- whose shops and businesses are cashing in -- Willow embraces her new identity, dying her hair platinum and ramming herself full of cakes to achieve Marilyn's legendary curves.
But when a former flame returns seeking the old Willow, Willow must decide: can she risk her stardom and her village's newfound fortune on love, or is being Marilyn her ticket to happiness?
You can buy the Kindle edition on Amazon UK here or Amazon US here.
I'm halfway through the book right now and loving it - honestly, it's so fun! - so GO! GO CHECK IT OUT! Inhale. Exhale. I'm calm. Don't worry.
And on to the websplash...
I can't think of anyone I'd want to be! At least not permanently. But if I could be anyone just for a day, I'd be Kurt Cobain.
Yeah, weird choice, right? I mean he was a boy, for a start. Which I am not. And he didn't exactly have the happiest life either. But I find him pretty darn fascinating anyway. I love music but have no musical talent, so I am always in awe of it - and I think I would have liked to spend a day in Kurt Cobain's head. Just to see where those songs came from; or how it felt to have calloused fingers and a desperate itch to play. Maybe I'd be happy being any musician for a day - I'd love to be Adele! - but I'm choosing Kurt for this websplash.
That's my pick! Who's yours?
If you're interested in taking a look at other bloggers' choices, Talli has a list up here. Happy mid-week, everyone!
That means, dear readers, that today I will be relinquishing control of my blog and handing it over to my fiance Steve (who will be my husband in a week - eek). This is for the Significant Other Blogfest, hosted by DL Hammons and Talli Roland, where the people who selflessly support writers tell us what it's like to deal with us. The trials, the tribulations. The hell. The (occasional?) joys. Do pop over to the blogfest link and check out the other entries!
Now, over to Steve.
STEVE SAYS:
I’ve now lived with an author for seven months, and have been romantically entangled with one for nearly two years. (The author in question being Sangu, by the way, not some other random person.)
The first thing that comes to my head is how wonderful it is to watch someone go about their craft and see how submersed they are in it, how they can’t be distracted by anything (unless the thing is consumable…) It’s not unusual for me to spend a couple of hours playing computer games or watching TV with Sangu tip-tip-tapping away next to me, completely oblivious. And it makes me extremely happy that she can now make a career out of something she loves so much.
I suppose that living with an author means that you have to accept certain things.
1) Sometimes you will be less real than characters.
2) Sometimes you will be a postman/tea-boy/waiter.
3) Not speaking to your partner for several hours, without feeling ignored.
4) Your partner may not do any writing for a month, and then not look up from their laptop for a week.
5) Small quirks and foibles are Very Important Things.
It was a very eye-opening experience for someone who reads a lot of books (though nowhere near as many as Sangu does) to realize just how much effort, thought and time goes into a single sentence – let alone a book. It is a mad experience to have a conversation with Sangu about characters talking to her and not wonder if she’s clinically insane, or to hear the level of detail authors have stored in their heads about every character of every project they’ve ever worked on.
I have only actually watched Sangu finish one book during the two years we’ve been together, and that was the one that is soon to be published. It is quite amazing to watch a spark of an idea grow into a story, evolve over umpteen drafts, pick up an agent and finally a publisher.
I like to act like a normal reader when reading through Sangu’s work (i.e. not knowing anything about a book before I read each chapter on the laptop). This is one of the hardest parts of being with a writer – it’s so tempting to ask for spoilers the whole time! Especially when you really want to know what’s going to happen next (damn you, chapter-ending cliffhangers!) When you buy a completed book, you can read on till it’s done if you want to, but with a work-in-progress I sometimes have to wait weeks before reading the next page. This doesn’t even begin to describe the many projects she’s started and abandoned right after hooking me.
So, you know. It can be agony. But it's also amazing to be with a writer. And I wouldn't swap it for anything.
Today, the brilliant Elizabeth Mueller is having a blogfest, about change! This is such an awesome topic, because it can be interpreted in so many different ways and be used in so many contexts. Click here to check out the other entries!
Thanks for this, Elizabeth!
For this fest, I chose a short scene from my completed ECHOES, because so much of the story is about change. In the following scene, my protagonist Echo discovers that she has to give up her entire life as she knows it, and move across the world to replace her identical other.
Enjoy!
---------- (Text from the novel removed. Sorry!) ----------
Today I'm participating in the fabulous Tessa's blogfest: Death Scenes! There are tons of entries in this fest, so do click on the link and check them out!
Killing characters can be incredibly hard (or delightful, depending on who the character is), so when Tessa announced this fest, I jumped at it - I have death scenes aplenty, hard as most of them have been to write.
After much pondering (cue hair-tearing and wailing), I finally settled on a scene from a novel I wrote about three years ago, a dystopian-historical fantasy called NO DREAMS IN WHITESHIRE. While it's been put on the back-burner indefinitely, I still have a soft spot for it and its characters, and there's a scene in the story that always gets to me.
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Later, I had no memory of the race to the Cross house. Vague images lingered: the chair falling over as I sprang up—the pity in Trist’s ice-blue eyes because he had already guessed and accepted what we couldn’t face—the streetlamps flickering past, a gold blur, one by one racing by as we ran, footsteps echoing against the pavement, my heart a drum roaring in my ears, too fast to allow logic through, too fast to allow anything but the wild panic and a desperate, frantic denial: no, no, no, no, no, no, no.
The house was on fire when we arrived. There were people standing around, pale faces watching the Cross home burn. Flames shot from the windows, shattering glass. People moved aside when Laila and I ran up.
Frozen in horror, I could only watch the house for what felt like an eternity, long enough for Trist to catch up to us.
I felt his hand on my shoulder, but the instant Laila started running, I broke free and I ran too, ignoring the shouts and cries of protest.
“Jake!” Trist’s voice shouted, but it sounded like I was underwater and he far beyond me with everything else I knew. “Jake, no!”
I followed Laila into the house, ignoring the burning heat that prickled my skin. Indeed, I could feel nothing except the same panic, the same cold denial. No, no, no.
We found them in the burning kitchen. Them.
“No,” I croaked, “No.”
They lay close to one another, as if they had died fighting, died trying to protect each other from a crueller force. The wounds on their bodies told me they’d fought to the bitter end. Blood stained the floor, the smell of it mingling with smoke and fire.
Uncle William had known it was coming, he had expected the attack. I saw it in my mind, what must have happened. He’d waited in the kitchen for death, having sent his daughter and errand boy away to save them. I heard the distant knock on the door.
“Hello, Will,” I heard my father’s voice, haunting, faint, “Fancy a drink?”
And the panic, Uncle William’s panic. I felt it, heard him. “Get out, James. Get out now. I can’t have you here, you can’t be here when they come—”
“Will, what—?”
“You have to get out!”
My father hadn’t expected the attack. He lay facedown, the gash in his back telling its own story. In the swirling flames, I could swear I heard Uncle William’s howl of pain.
“James! No!”
I imagined him turning to look into the eyes of his best friend’s killer, his murderer. Lady Death.
Would she have apologized? Was she sorry? He had been her friend, once.
The knife would have slashed. “Sleep soundly, Will.”
And then, silence.
“No,” I howled. “No, no, no!”
But denials were useless. I saw the truth. I saw reality on the floor before me.
They lay there, side by side. William Cross and James Quin. And the agony hit me fiercer than I could have imagined, a wave so crippling I was on my knees, struggling to live, to breathe, before the truth could fully sink in. No, no, no, no, no. Somewhere close by, I could hear Laila’s cries, the pleading of a child.
“Will! Will, wake up, wake up, please wake up! Uncle James!” Her voice broke. “Dad.”
Dad.
Hers, mine. Gone, gone, both of them gone.
Fire crept through the edges of the kitchen, turning the walls black. Heat crept over my skin, fiery and prickly. The smoke was beginning to touch me, beginning to choke me. I knew, with the last shred of detached reason I possessed, that I would die, that Laila would die too, if we stayed here trying to clutch the fingers of phantoms.
I staggered upright, forcing myself to breathe, forcing the pain down where I could push it away for the time being. “Laila,” I said hoarsely, “Laila, we have to get out.”
She raised her eyes and looked at me, and in them I saw something wither and die and break. William Cross’s eyes. They looked as empty as his did. I knew, with stunning clarity, that if I left her now, if I let her, allowed it, she would stay here and lie with them, disappear to where they would be.
Pain sliced through me again, fiercer and colder and harsher. “No,” I snarled, “No. Not you, too. No! I won’t. I can’t.”
She didn’t move, boneless and lifeless, lying on the floor with her head nuzzling William and her hand clutching his, like a kitten curling up into its mother. Her eyes flickered closed. It had gotten to her already. She’d sucked the smoke in. I coughed, choked on a waft of it. I knew there was very little time left.
I stooped, seized her. She lay limp in my arms, and I lifted her, held her, and staggered, through rage and pain and misery, away from the blood and the last echoes of my family. I took her outside, into the cold air, and there was Trist, his face white with fear for me. I stumbled in the street against him. Laila and I fell to the hard ground. She stirred weakly, face streaked with the soot and tears. I lay very still on the ground, and never wanted to get up again.
So today I'm supposed to be participating in Tina Lynn's Bad Boy Blogfest. I have to apologize profusely, but I'm going to have to back out. I have been way too swamped to write anything for it and I don't think I could whip something good up right this very moment. Sorry, everybody!
Do click on the link and check out all the other entries, though, I'm sure they're marvellous and I'm sorry to not be able to read through them all! And now I'm off again, back to the Real World where there's just far too many things to sort out and do...
It's here! At last! The character interview blogfest, in which we, as writers of various forms of story, sit down/stand up and attempt to interview our intrepid characters. While picking a character was unbelievably hard, because I love them all so much, I eventually settled on - wouldn't you know it - the most difficult, exasperating (and almost the most beloved) one of all.
I thought I'd post my interview now, in the wee hours, then get some sleep, tackle the mayhem of my day, and then come back and treat myself with everyone else's entries.
Before I go on, I want to thank everyone who's signed up and been so enthusiastic about this blogfest. You're all wonderful, and I hope you enjoyed doing this as much as I have! And so, on with the show...
---------- The other day, with the blogfest very firmly in mind, I invited one of my characters, Sir Matthew Mercer, to tea. He turned me down somewhat impolitely, which made for an inauspicious start. I asked him why, and he said he didn't 'feel like it'. Thanks, Matthew. Eventually, I think his curiosity got the better of him, because he turned up at my door at the precise hour, decked out in his usual vest of light chain mail over shirt and trousers.
To those who aren't in the know, Sir Matthew is a Weaver. He makes echoes. He wears his chain mail because, he claims, 'knife crime is a tragic thing'. I suspect the real reason is because he's afraid of being exterminated by a hunter. But I can't be sure of this. With Matthew, as my protagonist Echo will tell you, you can't be sure of anything.
SANGU(S): So, ahem, Matthew. Thank you for coming, even if you did refuse my invitation, show up unannounced, and surprise me in my pyjamas.
MATTHEW(M): They're not even very nice pyjamas, are they?
S: *blushes* Well... you're not here to talk about pyjamas, so let's -
M: Why not?
S: Excuse me?
M: Why can't we talk about pyjamas? I happen to own the most glorious pair. Silver. I gleam like a suit of armour, it's delightful.
S: A nugget of knowledge I'm most happy to add to my notes, but I'd rather talk about more important things.
M: I can't imagine there are more important things than pyjamas.
S [exasperated]: Well, I can, so please shut up about the bloody pyjamas and let me ask you a decent question. I have blog readers, you know! They expect exciting things! They don't want to hear about your stupid silver pyjamas! In fact, I'm banning the word pyjamas. Anyone who says it gets killed in the next book.
M [with a voice like a tiger on the prowl]: Just how do you envision finishing this saga of a tale without me, my dear? Where do you hope to find another Weaver as handsome, ambiguous and interesting as I? I hope you don't mean to use Elsa or Adrian. They'd be awful at playing the ambiguous, handsome and mysterious figure.
S: Handsome and mysterious? Don't make me laugh, Matthew!
M: Sir Matthew.
S: I gave you your stupid title, I can take it away too!
M: Oh, tut, do resist the urge to exercise your authorial powers. It would make for a very poor story if you were in charge of everything.
[SANGU takes a deep breath and counts to ten]
M: Have you got any biscuits?
S: In the cupboard.
M: They're not the right kind.
S: Well, you can **** right off then.
M: Egad! My ears have been positively scorched. Come, come, let's not go into a sulk. Ask me anything you like. I shall answer them. I won't promise to answer them well, but I'll offer a response. Or two.
S: One's more than enough, thanks. Could you stop spilling crumbs all over the carpet? I thought you didn't like those biscuits. Anyway, on to the first question: what first put you on to the idea of Weaving?
M: It was Adrian who first put us on to it. You may have noticed that he has a slight desire to cheat death.
S: Ah, yes. A slight desire. Hmm. But echoes don't really cheat death...
M: But they were supposed to, my dear. Haven't you worked that out yet? They were supposed to cheat death. And I can't imagine why they won't, in a few years' time, once we've worked out the kinks in the system. Soon, we'll solve death.
S: You seem very sure.
M: I know everything.
S: Well, you don't, actually -
M: I think you'll find I do.
S [sighs]: So that was the idea all along, then? To fix these 'kinks', as you call them, so that echoes are more... complete. So that they're more than just echoes? You're giving me that look, so I'll take that as a yes. Is that what you really want?
M: I have whims. They change so often, as is the nature of whims. How can one ever be certain of what one wants?
S: Matthew...
M: Oh, do refrain from scowling. Why wouldn't I want to fix the kinks?
S: You'd rather have Amarra instead of Echo? You'd rather have the girl who died instead of the one you stitched into being?
M: Oh, look! A sparrow! Isn't it just darling?
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As you can see, I suffer enormously.
Do scroll down the list in the sidebar to check out everyone else's entries! And once again, thanks for reading and for participating!
