I started writing I’m Only Me in 2011. I am forcing myself to give the manuscript ONE last pass* as I’m preparing to send it to agents. With that in mind, the first fifty pages are finished. As in I will NOT go back and read them.
And I can’t properly articulate the emotions I’m feeling. I know it’s cheesy, but these characters are more than dialogue and description on a page. They feel more real to me than actual people. I’d even go as far as to say they’re like friends. Wow, cheese! Get me some nachos.
This post was inspired by both #authorconfession, a Twitter hashtag game, and another of my favorite VlogBrothers videos. Let’s talk about what annoys us when it comes to books.
Here’s Hank Green ranting about books. It’s awesome and oh-so-relatable.
Books can be annoying, can’t they? But unlike Hank, I’d rather complain about the content, not the appearance.
Other than the obvious gripes about a book (it’s boring, too long, too many characters, wooden dialogue, just plain lame), I haven’t been satisfied with a book’s ending lately.