I am without words (though not for long)
Wow.
Not even two hours ago, I finished reading "Where Shadows Lie," by Allegra Pescatore. I must say I am a happy camper.
It's been an extremely long time since I read a massive fantasy book, and it's been since a time beyond my memory that said book was outside of mainstream fiction. (Yes, I hate saying the word 'mainstream,' but it fits for this, ok? [Leave me alone])
I can say without a doubt that this title has singularly moved me to make a new category for my blog posts. Ranger Reviews, I think they'll be called.
Yes, Ghost of Tsushima made me feel similar, but I haven't played that in days because of this book, and because I had to work on my own novel.
Even if I didn't post it here, for some time, I've felt like it was my duty to review the book once I was done. Us self-published authors have to look out for each other, y'know?
Whether or not the Divine Spirit of Blog Exposure casts me a line or not doesn't matter. I feel confident that this is a cool thing to do.
I kinda wish I had started sooner, but I feel like it's fitting that my first real review be for a self-published fantasy title.
As much as I want to gush about my thoughts and feelings on Where Shadows Lie, I have to save that vigor for the review.
I have another thing to talk about, anyway.
As I typed that I realize I just used up the "Finishing a Book" title, and it's not even one of my own books. What a disgrace.
Oh well- I guess we're gonna have title replays here and there. As long as the time doesn't line up, my conscience is clear. Thank you, Grammarly, for helping me spell conscioeussnce.
Again, I'm running off the road here.
I finished penning a challenging encounter today, in my WIP (The Sworn Defender). I spoke about my feelings with a close friend of mine, but I still feel the need to throw it out on the page here.
This is more a question to other writers, but anyone can understand it, I'm sure.
Is it normal to feel complicit in a character's death?
Like, yes, I know I made it all up myself, and with a flick of my pinky finger (and a few rewrites) I could make it so it never happened. (I hear you, K.C.)
But when I say complicit, I mean it like "hand on the knife as it thrusts forward" kind of complicit. "Maniacal laughs as the floor suddenly becomes wetter than it was before" complicit.
I don't know, maybe I'm thinking about it too much. This was always a scene that lingered in my mind since the beginning, long before even Prince of Azra was completed. It just feels so alien to put it to paper (or screen, I should say).
I can't help but feel a tinge of remorse. However, in the end, there's nothing to do but move on. Time to go crack a few more eggs.
The Ranger, now going to sob in the corner