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Congrats to KAYLYN WATERS, winner of THE NAME OF THE STAR by Maureen Johnson! In other news, I'm really going to try and not disappear on you guys now that I've started Year 12. Silly me went and took on three major works . You can probably expect some posts on short stories and beginnings and plotting and such, and some stuff on alluding to previous works or times or writers. Hope everything is well in your worlds. 

Over at YA Highway , there is a weekly meme running called Road Trip Wednesday, where a writing-or-book-related question is asked of both the road trippers and audience, the answers to which are linked in the comments. This week, RTW asks us which secondary character from a YA novel we would like to see star in a story of their very own. You know the character, sometimes set up in a fashion reflecting the author's lack of concern at whether the reader likes or dislikes them. Often the comic relief, or the bait. Or even someone that you really weren't meant  to get attached to, a plot device or background noise. So, my answer? I could talk to you about the story potential in THE HUNGER GAMES' Finnick Odair, or in Barron Sharpe, the protagonist's older brother in Holly Black's THE CURSE WORKERS series. Hell, even Adrian Ivashkov from the VAMPIRE ACADEMY books. And you know that I am all for  some Weasley love. But I have to say: These guys. The Marauders....

This is a legitimate change in a conventional title. Seriously. There are Pringles tubes with a wider girth than my mailbox, and I would like to say that my postman was not a total creeper and considered the etiquette in just placing packages atop the cube that is my mailbox instead of singing Queen continually, loudly (and tunelessly) right up below my bedroom window and placing them on my doormat. But I can't. Ergo, my books arrive on my door mat. Basically, In My Mailbox is a weekly-monthly-bimonthly-seasonal meme hosted by Kristi over at The Story Siren , and inspired by Alea of Pop Culture Junkie . Some write on their blogs, some write on napkins , some podcast or vlog or comment or tweet I suppose. I, however, have decided that I talk far too much and so I will be vlogging mime-style and adding notes here. Now, due to the overwhelming lack of books that I have bought lately, these are all the books that I plan on doing things with that I have been neglecting. So, wit...

Pretty 100 per cent sort of certain that I have never participated in a YA Highway Road Trip Wednesday in any form but that of lurking on a Friday afternoon thinking "Well, Thursday's bluffable. But this is just slow" . Anyhow, this "blog carnival" topic this week is Favourite All-Time Covers. And I've talked previously about my snobbiness regarding the physical appearance and/or first impressions of people books. So, without further ado. THE UNBECOMING OF MARA DYER has a similar floating feel, but the air of suffocation and constriction, as well as the crowded text just conveys this subtle darkness that really appeals to me. If it were possible to marry a book cover and its premise, I would have been wedded to Julie Cross' TEMPEST a long time ago. I know many link this to HUSH, HUSH with the zero-gravity nature, but it's the entire composition that really links with the time-travelling premise of the novel.  I was always rather ...

This is a legitimate change in a conventional title. Seriously. There are Pringles tubes with a wider girth than my mailbox, and I would like to say that my postman was not a total creeper and considered the etiquette in just placing packages atop the cube that is my mailbox instead of singing Queen continually, loudly (and tunelessly) right up below my bedroom window and placing them on my doormat. But I can't. Ergo, my books arrive on my door mat. Basically, In My Mailbox is a weekly-monthly-bimonthly-seasonal meme hosted by Kristi over at The Story Siren , and inspired by Alea of Pop Culture Junkie . Some write on their blogs, some write on napkins , some podcast or vlog or comment or tweet I suppose. I, however, have decided that I talk far too much and so I will be vlogging mime-style and adding notes here. Now, due to the overwhelming lack of books that I have bought lately, these are all the books that I plan on doing things with that I have been neglecting. So, wit...

I go to the movies often, more with my friends than with family or the nonexistent boyfriend. I also seem to arrive first. Once, after I texted one of said friends about her whereabouts, I received: I'll be there in five minutes. If not, read this again . On other occasions, I've received quick replies quoting THE DIVINE COMEDY or Lord Nelson or Thackeray or Humphrey Bogart or Marilyn Manson or Miley Cyrus. These are average teenage girls. They pierce bits of their bodies and gossip and whine and flunk maths tests and drink and attempt to drive. Their parents still treat them like they're eight, then tell them to act like a grown up. They curse and scream and bitch. They hate their bodies, their man hands their fat thighs. They obsess over films and people and move on to something new tomorrow. They're hot and cold and you shouldn't call them on it. They are the greatest liars and con artists in the world. And that is why you cannot possibly con a teenager into beli...

I'm unsure whether I write this post more as a reader or as a writer. Alas, we shall have to stay tuned to see what the verdict is. Just very quickly before I begin, I'd like to divert your attention to another matter: the absolutely gorgeous Aimee L. Salter took time away from her life to write a post about none other than moi. And you know what? It made my week. A snapshot: "If her profile is to be believed, at just sixteen years old this chick has developed a voice, intellect and amusingly snide pretentiousness I can only aspire to". *Gives bow* Hon, I am indeed sixteen, seventeen in October. I also wish I could send you a planet or something gift-wrapped for the post. Now, age. Specifically, protagonist age. I see this matter pop up every-bloody-where . The basic question seems to be: can you classify a novel as YA if the protagonist doesn't fall within the Holy YA Age Range of thirteen to eighteen? And the general consensus? MCs beyond this range = très t...

I returned from Thailand on a TG-something to Sydney on Friday morning. My brain was telling me that it was nine in the morning, but the clocks and air hostesses told me otherwise. For the past two days I've been roasting in a heatwave where each day sits at about 42 degrees (celsius) and retains that until early in the evening. I know some of you must be thinking: "You just came from Thailand, what are you talking about?" Yes, but alas, I spent half my time in air-conditioned rooms, or out in the evening when the temperature had dropped. It was also winter while I was over there. But what does this have to do with anything? Writing-wise? I got a brand new spanking idea for a novel, involving a lot of culture and delving into mythology and the Himmapan forest. Over the last day, I've poked at it a little bit, finding places to integrate past ideas into it. It could be bloody brilliant. But if it's the one, it will be there, perhaps even stronger in my mind, when ...

This morning I read a post by lit agent Sarah LaPolla, in which she responded to Leah McLaren's post on how e-readers take the fun out of giving books . If this were a playground conflict at my school (where you must always side) I think I'd be wearing the words Team LaPolla in pen ink on the canvas of my Dunlop Volleys, despite the fact that I'm not going to invest in an e-Reader anytime soon, nor am I exactly pro " Oh-Em-Gee, e-readers are taking over the universe!" . First paragraph of McLaren's post and I'm rolling my eyes. Point One - most percentages are made up on the spot. Point Two - she says that 10% of adults in the US are giving e-readers as Christmas presents. I'm guessing that's around 2 million e-readers. What of it? If any of them are like my Dad, they're only giving them because they look nifty and besides the token debauched humour card they give to my Uncle, they cannot think of anything else besides John Howard's aut...

A brand-spanking new blog requires a primary post of all levels of blabberdom. In this case, I shall be describing to my small-to-near-nothing audience of a broad-shouldered, yet skinny mail-delivery guy who waltzed up my driveway this morning. I, in fact, did not speak to this man. My Dad did, and was promptly handed a medium-sizedpackage. My Dad walked into the house and told me it had been sent from the North Pole - haha. Upon inspection, I deduced that the BBC had sent this to my Dad, and I was then given it to wrap. I'd forgotten about this purchase I made on BBCShop.com , and was then allowed to wrap one of my Christmas gifts: Doctor Who Seasons 1 to 4 in a boxset. Hel- lo David Tennant. In other news, I've had a lazy-day all day due to the fact that my family took pity on me as I worked an eight-hour shift at work yesterday, without any breaks and without sitting down once. I'd been on the grill nearly the entire time, and my arms were shaking as a result. I have di...