Of Desires and Old Receipts

Writers are power-hungry.
They control their own world. They control the lives of countless characters. The control the emotions and inspire the actions of people they don't even know.
Writers have more power than the U.S. President, and it's all in their head.
I want to be one. I want to be able to make people laugh, cry, and dream. I want to be able to make people fall in love. I want to inspire them. I want to give them something to live through when they have nothing else. And all without knowing them.
It's amazing.
What could be better?
Aside from that, I just want to be that entity, the mysterious one who's imagination is a thing you can pick up and sink into. I want to be an entity from my house, sitting on a pillow in my pajamas, ignoring the telephone with a laptop on my lap, and typing madly to finish a chapter before my deadline. I want my editor to knock on the door, but I won't hear, because I'll be too absorbed in what I'm writing. She will have to pick the lock with the bobby pin hidden deep in her purse underneath all the manuscripts and old receipts. When she bursts through the door, she will stand in front of me until I look up, and I will jump five feet back on my cushion. My editor will laugh, and then she will be all business.
I want to dream about my characters, and wake up inspired.
I want to see a published copy of my book.
I want to stand around the set, insisting on what has to be while they make a movie out of my book. I want to see the actors, talk to them, and transform them into my characters in my head. I want to sign books, see all the people, and realized how many lives I have touched.
More than anything, I want to write something that I would like to read.

Eagerly,
Rosie L.

Of Breaking Dawn and Nothing Else

I am being driven nearly mad by excitement at the release of Breaking Dawn. I know it's not the most tasteful book to be driven mad by, but I can't help it: from the moment C loaned me Twilight, I was engrossed. Obsessed. For a while, I was dangerously close from actually falling in love with Edward Cullen. I dreamed about the characters. I thought about the characters. I read constantly.
Even now, I can't help myself picking up the books when I see them (almost every day, as they are on my bookshelf). They are my go-to distraction when I'm stressed or upset or worried, or even just bored. You could say I couldn't live without them. They amount of truth I would allow this statement would depend on the day.
Today, it would probably be pretty true.
Now that I've started on the Twilight Series, I might as well finish. I am severely disappointed by the movie. Robert Pattinson, the same actor who played Cedric Diggory in the fourth Harry Potter movie (shudder). You really should know, I did not like Cedric Diggory. He was not hot, which is the entire point of him, really, isn't it? In any case, it kind of ruined the movie Edward for me. The book Edward remains (thankfully) untainted.
Also, they made Laurent African-American. I believe he's described in the book as being white, but I can't be sure. They probably did it for political correctness. Actually, when I think about it, what happens with black vampires? One of the things that is supposed to happen when you become a vampire is that you become really pale, because all of your blood is gone. So I guess, if you were black, you wouldn't get really pale, because only your blood is gone, not your pigment. You would probably just look very devoid of color and sort of gaunt.
In any case, I must go anticipate Breaking Dawn. (I haven't gotten it yet, or I would not be blogging right now. I would be reading, for sure. But I reserved it at the Borders near my house, and they agreed to hold it until the twelfth, when I can pick it up. They better have agreed to hold it for me, after playing bad college rock in my ear for twenty minutes while I was on hold.)

Waiting,
Rosie L.