My favourite novel of all time I think is always going to be How I Live Now by Meg Rosoff. I have never in my short nearly fifteen years of life read anything as beautiful as this. Something as small as life and love captured from the point of view of someone so broken but unable to express it in a way that isn't destroying herself. I know attention seeking is bad but whenever I read this I can't help but feel for the protagonist, Daisy, who starves herself for her father's love. And when she is sent away to England to stay with cousins and an aunt she has never met, you can see her pain and anger almost fall away because of the love for these people, and for this place.
Of course there is a war and heartbreak and more pain and loss, but even after everything, this character can accept it all and keep going because of something she has found. Irony is a wonderful word.
I can't help but use this novel as a guide for anything I want to create in words because even if the grammar isn't perfect it has an honesty about it that I think most writers struggle to find. It's almost like thinking of your own beliefs and what you would do in that kind of situation and describe those feelings in a way that isn't like word vomit.
I have nearly completed the current situation in which my new EPIC novel is based. I'm trying to get an idea of exactly where my characters are and how they would feel in the situation they are in. If I can prove their feelings are genuine through their words and actions, I think I would be proud. Even if my book is never completed I would know I have achieved something very few people have. Of course this achievement will be based on my own opinion on it but, I'm writing for me, aren't I?
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