Love, Love, Love -- Jennie

Two and a half weeks after surgery, I am now on page 85 of Stephanie Meyer’s Twilight. I am reading as a literary-ologist, trying to answer the 1.3 million-copies-sold-the-first-day question: What makes it so good?

Not that I’m any published author (yet), but Meyer does everything we writers are forbidden. The first sin is that the book’s too long: 500 pages crippled with minute and distracting plot “details” that read more like a list of uneventful daily activities than a novel.

In addition, the only variation in sentence beginnings is between “I” and “When.” The sentences are also the same length; there is no rhythm or flow. Verbs are overused: “flashed,” “flickered,” “looked;” the book is plagued with adverbs; and—believe it—there’s tons of “I felt…”

“I felt!!!”

Here’s a passage from page 33, an example of some of the above:

“When I got home, I unloaded all the groceries, stuffing them in wherever I could find an open space. I hoped Charlie wouldn’t mind. I wrapped potatoes in foil and stuck them in the oven to bake, covered a steak in marinade and balanced it on top of a carton of eggs in the fridge.”

Is this a culinary diary, or a book about vampires?

I know. I’m snarky. Meyer is probably sending her bodyguards after me right now.

But, Stephanie, wait.

First, I’m claiming the Vicodin-exclusionary clause. Next, let me say congratulations. You somehow (marketing?) tapped into a commercial, crossover market, and totally deserve your ga-zillions.

And I know how you did it.

With love.

Julie’s newest blog chronicles her obsession with The X Files not because of its quirky sci-fi plot, but because of the compelling love story between Scully and Mulder. The love story!

Love is big! It’s huge! Even my sixteen year-old brother, who read my YA manuscript, claimed that his favorite part was not the sports, or the boy’s conflict, or the guy stuff, but the love story!

Ah hah!

The secret to YA book success is revealed. And, my friends, I am sharing it with you. It’s love: pure and simple, forbidden or unrequited, lost or found. Love.

Now about the vampires standing in my doorway…

Still Ramblin' -- Jennie

With prescription pain meds comes permission to ramble, right?

I thought I'd be so much better by now, but an infection set me back. So there's no deep, cohesive thought following Julie's intricate insight. There's only this:

Christy and Kerry, hope you're having a fabulous time - I mean, I hope you're learning a lot - at your conferences. You know, you're about 1,200 miles apart this very minute. But you're probably both enveloped by words and writers. Can't wait to hear about what you've brought back!

And this:

After two weeks, why am I only on page 13 of Stephanie Meyer's Twilight? Do I not like the book? Do I want to not like the book? Why does Meyer get to break all the rules of YA writing, and sell a ba-zillion copies?

And this:

Before 10 this morning, my kids and I had already discussed the value of the dollar around the world, and Canada's socialist medicine.

And lastly:

Being flat on my back for two weeks has forced me to be creative. I've played Uno, Rat-A-Tat Cat, and Star Wars Monopoly; I've visited with friends, talked on the phone, and sketched out some story thoughts; I've read the same issue of People Magazine cover-to-cover, twice, and still can't remember any of it; I've read to my kids. (I'll tell you what I discovered about Pinnochio in the next blog.)

Right now, it's time to get flat again.

Oh, to be upright...