The Fault In Our Stars

I've been trying to establish a blogging schedule for myself, though I'm finding it's not an easy thing to keep up . . . sometimes it feels like too much of an obligation. Like homework. But it was a goal I set for myself this year: to write daily. Because, you see, I'm writing a book. I won't bother to share much more than that, because I've taken enough creative writing classes to know that the phrase "I'm writing a book" elicits the glazing over of eyes if the polite "Oh, what's it about?' is answered.

So instead, I'll recommend you to pick up my new favorite read, John Green's The Fault In Our Stars. Do you ever have those days when your schedule is so swamped that you feel you'll be buried alive if you don't meet some kind of a quota by bedtime? I was so caught up in this novel that I put my buried-alive life on hold just to finish its cancer patient pages. Yes, it's about two teenagers with cancer who fall in love, but don't worry, it's not a Cancer novel. Because, to quote the protagonist, "Cancer novels are shitty."

And Simon seemed to enjoy it? Enjoy falling asleep while I read to him, anyway. Or when he'd occasionally get excited and reach over to swipe the pages on the touchscreen. Amazing to me that his generation gets to have a thing like touchscreens as the norm.