Since the Lenten season has finally caught up with me (REPENT ALL YE SINNERS) I decided I might as well walk that extra mile and ‘fess up all my naughty bookworm sins.
|*minor hyperventilation episode*|
Alright, here goes:
(Although most probably, by this time tomorrow I will be regretting this post so bad I might bury myself alive and never type another letter into the blogosphere.)
AS I WAS SAYING.
- I USED TO BE A TWIHARD – up until the second book happened. That is not to say that I’d read Twilight and then waited a year to get New Moon and filled all my days in between fangirling excessively. It means that while I was reading Twilight, I shipped Bella and Edward so very physically, with my head intermittently spinning very ludicrous fantasies involving me kidnapping Edward for myself in his Aston Martin (WHAT A RIOT I CAN’T EVEN DRIVE A BIKE) and then when the second book happened (all the four books had already been published by then so there was no time spent hanging on a cliff) I hurt my head a lot because I was busy head-desk-ing. By the time I’d finished Breaking Dawn, I’d decided I was anti-Twilight and would spent the rest of my life spewing acid on the topic. As it so happens, that is not the confession – I was merely setting the scene. Remember when a partial draft of Midnight Sun leaked on the Internet and we all read it? Well, guess how many times this so-called anti-Twihard read it. No? OK, is SIX a decent number? Or how about how many times I wished the whole book would be published soon? Did you know that INFINITY could be a number?
- Following up on #1, I HATED STEPHANIE MEYER. Please note that I was in the ninth grade when I was going through a phase called BOYS ARE SHIT AND ALL THINGS NOT NICE (I dunno why – no guy had ever done anything to me – I used to be a pretty extreme t(w)een). Then I saw the cover of The Host (ON SALE!!!!!!) and read the blurb and bought it and read it and read it and read it and read it … and kept the fact that I might no longer NOT HATE Meyer a secret till I realized I was being a two-faced bitch.
- I used to pride myself in the knowledge that I DON’T READ CONTEMPORARY ROMANCE. As people ticked off books they had read, I would mentally scoff at them when I classified them as POOR READING CHOICES or NOT LITERARY ENOUGH. (How much do you already hate me?) Then I discovered The Mediator and Jinx and Airhead by Meg Cabot and attained enlightenment.
- I JUDGE BOOKS, THEIR AUTHORS AND THEIR FANBASE. (I wasn’t trumpeting that point; I’m stripping myself bare. Go on, judge me. I basically asked for it.)
- Despite whatever I say and feel about how erotica is basically literary porn – I enjoy a good SPICY SCENE from time to time. (OH GOD.)
- Hey, genuine doubt: Do you, at any point of time, while in the process of shipping your ship in your head after a good book or a Tumblr post or – y’know – randomly, (un)consciously replace the hero(ine) with yourself? (please say yes, please say yes)
- … Maybe I should stop.