Saturday, May 16th, at 2:20 am, I was lying in bed, eyes open, peeking out over my covers. If I could have seen myself, I imagine I would have seen what book characters see when they say her eyes were sparkling. I was mentally at ease, but I was wired. I had just had an idea.

Go to sleep, do the healthy thing. Take care of yourself. Rest.
You can write it in the morning.

No, write it now. Use it or lose it. You are given
ideas for a reason, you have to start now. Start executing,
just put it down. You have to follow this feeling. You
have to do it while you're feeling it, it won't be the
same in the morning, if you even remember it.
Write it down. It'll only take a second.

No. You have just started taking care of yourself. This is what you're always doing. Following ideas. For what. Your mind is abundant. It's not going anywhere.
This scarcity mindset of losing ideas and having to hold everything immediately like they're all so precious— Stop it. Close your eyes and sleep. You can do it in the morning. Be normal. Rest. We are getting on routine. Discipline. We are taking care of ourselves.

I reached out and grabbed my journal and a pen.

Let me just write this down real quick and remember the details, just enough to feel the momentum in the morning…

It was after 4 am that I finally went to bed, smiling.

In the weeks prior, I hadn’t quite been myself. My hair had been in mini twists (which is more significant than it sounds, but that’s a story for another day), and I had been spending my days going inward, being quiet, doing less, and honouring what I thought discipline should look like. It wasn’t until that Friday evening, May 15, when I took out my twists in a moment of Young heart, Run free! that I let myself be still and quiet in a different way. I let go of the feeling that I was supposed to be doing something; I remembered, I make the rules and joy is the feeling I’m after anyway. You know how you feel joy? You let yourself feel joy. That’s what you’re wanting. That’s what you’re missing.

Once I said Relax, take it easy, you owe no one nothing, Relax, be comfortable, tend to your wellbeing, be easy— oh my god, it just started flying. I hadn’t actually been trying to write, I was working on another project entirely, something I had lost the spark for and was finally ready to re-approach. I was finally doing the Damn Thing, but with another thing entirely. It was as I imagined executing an idea for that other thing that my mind went, and then imagine if this happened. And then it just kept going, and kept going, and I thought, Transcribe it.

Transcribe? Translate. Transpose? Trans-something.

I said I have to record this, and that was it, and I kept recording everything. Everything I was seeing and hearing — recording. Everything that happened — recording. The movie is playing — recording.

Saturday, May 16th, after midday

At first I couldn’t tell if it was supposed to be a movie or a novel, or even a short film or short story, because it was everything. I get everything all at once: the sounds, the textures, the visuals, the wardrobe — oh my goodness, the wardrobe — the music, the camera pans, the editing, the cuts, the reaction shots, the setting, the framing. Everything. I get it all and I write it down. As best as I can anyway, I write it down. It’s like a movie — I only need a few things, the lines and the happenings, and the rest will come back to my head. It’s like remembering your favourite scene: if I just say “the scene where he says ‘life is like a box of chocolates’”, you see him — and you know exactly which him — sitting down at the bus stop, you see the framing, you see the shot. Even the light diffusion — you don’t realise diffusion is what you’re seeing in your head, but you remember everything — the texture, the effect. All you need is a few simple words, that’s it. And that’s what I did. I wrote down a few simple words. Twelve thousand of them.

During that day I had a moment, laughing to myself, where I went, is this what people mean when they say they’re a pantser? Because this story is just flying. I actually need the story to stop; I’m almost overwhelmed — more excited — but also I can’t see how this comes to a stop at all. I used to think I’m not a plotter or a pantser — I’m a nothinger. I have an idea, a premise, but then nothing, that’s really all. But this? Oh my god, it couldn’t have been more different.

Besides sleeping, I took “breaks” that day. “Breaks” in which everything became a source of inspiration woven into the universe and I still could not get myself to stop typing. I was back and forth between the kitchen and my phone when I finally tried to hunt down sustenance, because everything I touched became And when they touch this, this happens, and they turn around, and say this... I could see their whole world and everything was happening. It was happening as I was happening. Our lives were running simultaneously, and I was taking a peek into theirs. It’s as if I were a puppet for their living. A proxy. Carrying out their actions. Holding their thoughts and feelings. It didn’t matter what I did. Everything kept coming.

This sort of avalanche isn’t unusual for me on its own. It kind of is my normal creative process, but just never with fiction. Never in my life have I gotten this far with fiction or not struggled through it. I’ve “never been able to” write fiction that wasn’t simply some isolated interaction, at most, three of them. But this was a story. Not even— This was a life. In fact, this was two lives.

At some point in the evening, I stopped to tally everything and organise. I transcribed from my journal, copied from my notes app, added everything to a Google Doc, and checked the word count. I had written over 12,000 words. Taking out time for sleeping, eating, and washing my hair, this happened over roughly 12 hours of actual writing. And I’m nowhere near done.

How easy it is to write when you have inspiration and you actually like yourself, and you support your ideas, and you’re not trying to be high-brow or perfect. I’m writing romance, by the way. Who knew! I just had to talk about my favourite things! How perfect! And this from your average intellectual who’s too afraid of being low-brow.

Well, I have a novel you don’t. (Low-brow me to high-brow me. High-brow me has nothing to say back.) Funny that!

I think I could’ve hit 50,000 words that day, if NaNoWriMo’s standard is anything to strive for. I had to stop because my hands were hurting. I’d been crocheting for hours the night before, using stiffer fibers and amidst this, I also washed my hair. That meant another few hours of actively using my hands (and of course living scenes I would immediately transcribe upon finishing). My hands were exhausted and my thumbs were killing me. I also knew I had to go back to life after that weekend, so I said Stop! I needed the story to come to a stop.

I did manage to go to bed rather obediently. I definitely had no concerns of not having enough momentum. The story was live and a self-feeding fire. Actually, it was explosive. The next day, I only needed a way to turn off.

Naturally, I woke up and read A Court of Thorns and Roses.

I followed up with watching One Day on Netflix that evening and that…was an experience. Maybe that’s something to write about.

First of all, I love this book. I love what it represents, I love what it wants to do. But it’s started to irritate me a bit and I’m only halfway through. Halfway through doesn’t mean I was trudging through it. That halfway through is actually the result of an intense speed read, highly motivated by the book itself. The book caught my attention. It had me there. It moved me through the first half quickly, and I was happy to be pulled. I was listening and paying attention.

And then it dropped me off and left me in the middle of the road.

I…don’t even know what to say at this point. I enjoyed the book when I opened it, and then…Well…

I’ll let you see for yourself.

Note: Thoughts are roughly in order. And, of course, spoilers, spoilers, spoilers.

Thoughts I’ve Had While Reading A Court of Thorns and Roses

1. Relatable

2. I can see why this attracts women [women of a certain kind]

3. I feel like it could have been written for kids, if I were just reading the opening pages— besides the mention of Isaac

4. “All he did was look, so I better fire again” in case he’s intelligent— that’s— Hm.

5. End of chapter one; “But this was the forest, and it was winter”. All right, let’s go! I’m with her, I like her. She feels like she could run something. She feels like she could run the world. Let’s go. Good closing line. I’m ready.

6. Is she fae?

7. Nesta?— Who are you talking to?

8. I can’t believe they’re getting along or in agreement sort of. The one place they agree is the fae.

9. Feyre’s kinda mean. I didn’t know she was like that. Makes her seem like she’s fitting in.

10. “An uphill battle” gives pity like she’s really just going with the crowd

11. “How. Not a question.”' That’s me!

12. She’s cool. The mercenary.

13. Feyre’s actually so funny If, per chance, I, uh, murdered your friend in cold blood, then, uh, what are we talking

14. An eye for an eye, literally?

15. Eye roll She’ll find excuses to stay

16. Why do you wanna leave so bad? To what? Where are you going?

    1. It’s death here, death there like where are you going? And it’s bullying there why are you going back?

17. She’s just being cantankerous for the sake of being cantankerous. Sit down.

18. Please don’t be naked. Tamlin going back to regular form from the wolf thing.

19. Thank God. I like that. Appreciated.

20. He didn’t notice her? Red-haired fae enters.

21. They did not care about Andras. They accepted her quick.

22. Yeah, tell her like it is. I’m with red-hair. She’s kind of evil.

23. Lucien’s not wrong. It’s wild she’s mad instead of just feeling fear she has no…humility? Healthy self-criticism? You know what you did…. Why are you mad?

24. Damn it’s tough out here Alis’s thoughts on Andras

25. She’s getting annoying

26. *Everything’s* taken care of— convenient

    1. “Source: Trust me bro”

27. Right, Lucien, get her again because why is she acting like this

28. She is evil! She is kind of evil! Lucien, you’re fine. I don’t mind.

    1. Because why is she acting like this? Girl! That’s a lot of attitude for a murderer… looks her up and down

29. I like Lucien

30. Maybe I just don’t know Sarah— where is she from? Where did she grow up?

31. At least she knows she should’ve been killed. There’s that humility, I guess

32. It’s too early for him to be acting jealous this is ridiculous she killed your friend. You don’t give a damn about Andras.

33. I’m glad that Alis calls out her foolishness because as if that would work

34. What does he mean? Of course she has a problem with you…

35. As if they don’t know you took that knife

36. Yes, girl, they could hear it

37. I like Lucien

38. Aw he thinks she doesn’t want to hang out with him

39. A library— love

40. I love Lucien lol

41. Damn he set her up

42. Suriel’s kinda badass, kinda my favourite character

    1. They’re kinda the coolest one

    2. All the species she opened up— this could’ve been Harry Potter level, like the amount of species in this book

       1. And they’re cool!

       2. The amount of species in this book— it’s as if I’m reading an outline, and then I’m like, Okay, so tell me more— and then she won’t tell me anything— Girl!— Why would you open up the conversation? Like—

43. Stay with the high lord Okay eye roll

44. [Wanting to read while I’m walking, rereading the first half] — See?! You had my attention. Even the second time! It was good. It was interesting. Ugh.

45. I don’t understand the organisational structure, the hierarchy, the bureaucracy, the worldbuild…Should’ve been doing this instead of writing…I don’t even know what this is I don’t even know what to call it. There are so many creatures here— I want to understand

46. Are we sure she isn’t fae?

47. I could lie to you. I choose not to.

48. Aww Lucien…

49. That was beautiful Chapter 17

50. This is weird

51. Lucien is necessary to break up this…eh

52. This romanticism’s getting annoying

53. So he was attracted to her from when she was starving? When he was mad about Andras? He stopped because… hot?

54. Lucien’s got a cool backstory I wanna know more. I would want his story, I’d read it alone.

55. Lucien you should be ashamed lol

56. Lucien you hesitated! Oh my gooood wooooow. Damn… Didn’t know you hated her that bad

57. Weeks?

    1. “Weeks” is doing a lot of heavy lifting

58. This time thing is weird and why is she just mad

59. Okay, Feyre…

60. Yeah, lol, I don’t know why you thought your dad was coming for you that was comical

61. Ugh, okay, whatever

62. What has changed between you what do you meaaan?

63. Ugh, whatever

64. Ew

65. Aww her words

66. Ew. Ugh, whatever…

67. Damn, there is no family. Everybody’s out for themselves. And they think humans are feral…

68. Lol “very faerie”— Not for your eyes and ears

69. Girl, why would you be invited? Does she have social awareness?

70. I miss Lucien

71. Oh, she’s foolish

72. The way they refer to her poverty is hilarious. Drips off of them.

73. You poor thing and not poor thing as in pity but poor thing as in damn you’re poor— You are a poor thing

74. Oooo I like this guy In the forest at the ritual, Calanmai

    1. Him, Alis, and the Suriel— my favourites

75. Disgusted

76. Lucien, please break this up I’m embarrassed IIII’m uncomfortable

77. Ugh, whatever

    1. Why would you leave! Lucien! Why would you leave!

    2. Lucien’s like that fun uncle that keeps it PG. Lucien’s like that uncle that your parents won’t fight in front of because now we have company— Lucien, come back. You stop them from being weird

    3. Lucien, come baaack [laughing] Lucien, please— Lucien, don’t leave me

78. What? That doesn’t even make sense— So you liked her that instant? When? You couldn’t let go? The timing doesn’t make sense— When?

    1. When was this moment you couldn’t let go? When she got back from selling your friend’s skin? The first day when she’d just sold your friend’s skin? The same day when she’d just said she sold your friend’s skin? Or the following day when you were all of a sudden in love with her and jealous about other lovers like when was this— When did it happen? You were already in love with her from when? From what? Her selling your friend’s skin? Her being malnourished? Being her family’s provider who sold your friend’s skin? From what? When was this moment you couldn’t let go— it’s completely made up. There was no moment. There was no transition, no moment of recognition; it was there from the start, except it was there from what— there was no starting point, we’re just supposed to presume from genre— it was there from what? When did you fall in love? When couldn’t you let go? It was at what moment that you couldn’t let go? You said it was “even when” and then referred to a feeling she demonstrated over several days, beginning in the first instants so which moment was it, which day, when? When were you making realisations? When was that supposed to have happened?

    2. When she tried to run to her father the day after she skinned your friend? [Laughing] When? What are we on? You did not care about that man… “Friend”— which begs— why did you go get her in the first place, you clearly didn’t really give a damn, like let her go. If he’s dead, he’s dead. Who cares…

    3. And “even when”? As in this feeling existed before, but persisted even when she wanted to go? She wanted to go from jump. That was day dot. What would be this before. “Even when”? “Even when”?!

       1. Do you mean ‘even though’?? Editing…

79. “I didn’t lock my door that night” Ugh, whatever eye roll

80. Ugh, whatever

81. All this romanticism’s getting annoying

82. Whatever. Okay, I guess eye roll

83. Oh, thank god, Lucien

    1. Why is he always gone

    2. It’s like when a show gets a second season and they can’t bring the same characters back [the same actors back]

84. The editors were either overzealous or negligent. Where is the book.

    1. At some point we made a major narrative jump. This book is so perfectly commercial; it’s like it’s factory made, but in every single way, not just in physical production— in every way. It’s like a dollhouse book. It’s completely feasible that there would’ve been more she was told to cut down to make it commercial, or she didn’t have enough and there were narrative jumps, to which they should have said Go back, and give us more book. It’s as if I started reading a book with a character Amy and I flip the page and it says Mary, and from then on that’s it. I just see Mary. Where did the person you actually introduced me to go? I liked her! If she’s supposed to transform, then let her transform. This is just a different person starting from their point zero and they happen to have a few things in common. This is not a transformed character— she didn’t transform, she’s just gone. I need more book. Where did it go. All of them. You introduced me to people and if you tell me anything, I’m going to care about them, so I want their story. Now they’re gone and I’m just supposed to accept this new book. It’s as if every page, I’m flipping, waiting for the story I started to continue, and it won’t come back. It’s like being on an ad break, and I can’t be bothered to care, because I’m only looking for signs of life from the people I want. Where did they go. Where is the character. I want them back. The real people I met. Not these alternate people I’m just supposed to buy are their transformed versions even though there was no transformation in the book. It feels like when you write essays in high school and your teacher says I know how your mind works so I know how you think you got to the final argument, but it’s nowhere in your paper. You’re assuming we’re in your head. We’re not. You have to write it down. It’s as if you were too tired to write the book, and I’m too tired to keep reading about characters I don’t care about. Where are the people I met.

85. Whatever eye roll

86. Whatever

87. I’m too on guard for the nonsense I’m gearing up for I can’t enjoy it anymore and I’m wanting to be done Just starting Chapter 25

88. A Court of Thorns and Roses should be longer

89. All you intellectuals, and intelligent people, and high-thinkers, this book is for you. It was written for you. Go read it.

90. A Court of Thorns and Roses should have been a longer book

91. My Favourite read this month is A Court of Thorns and Roses and it’s also the most annoying

92. Why would you make me want you? Why did you have to be interesting enough for me to buy the book but not interesting enough to hold me? Interesting enough for me to want to know what happens, but not interesting enough for me to want to keep reading? I can’t access the story through any other vessel but you. I have to keep reading. But I don’t want to. So now what.

93. Interesting enough to make me care about these people, but not interesting enough thorough enough to tell me what happens! What really happens.

94. We gotta stop saying “New York Times…” “Bestseller…” because any and everything is “New York Times…” “Bestseller…” these days. Respectfully, it’s like when an “influencer” looks you in the eye or looks straight into the camera while promoting something. It means nothing! It means nothing, I don’t care anymore.

95. I'm actually being complimentary, at least of the author. I mean to say she needed more book! I trust her to tell a story— tell it more! She should've been told I need more chapters, I need depth, write more! Or maybe she wrote more and they cut it out. That's where my mind goes. There's a huge narrative jump.

96. I keep looking for excuses but can't find any. Just checked if it was self-published, but no, it was not, which means there was an editorial team and someone who should have demanded more. It can be a good story. Tell me more. It's like when an artist makes a demo and hands it over to another artist. It's as if I want someone else to write the book, it could've been a good story, but if you don't want to do it, hand it over. Tell me more.

97. I’m seeing the unrealised version. This is the unrealisd version; I can see it because it's printed. It's like they told me the idea. Okay, now write the book.

98. It’s as if we're ghostwriting her book, giving it depth it doesn't have, helping her build the world, which is a fun collaborative project, I guess, but I would've liked to know that's what I had signed up for, I suppose. I would've preferred this as an audio.

99. At this point it's a voice message telling me your idea and at least I could have malleablised my mind and made it open to receiving it as such, but you had me buy a book. And hold it. And engage rapid eye movements. For this— Girl!

100. Why am I holding this in my hands!

101. Rapid eye movement. Rapid eye movement!— You have me encoding my mind!

102. Also, the reading level— look. At the start, I didn’t even have any complaints or critiques that it’s not high-brow enough, literary enough, or about the level it’s written at. I went like this for a while. No criticisms. I noticed how it was written, but no critique. As I see where this book is going, I’m having thoughts and I have to say I don’t know who this book is written for. I don’t know the target audience at all. It often feels like a kindergarten reading level, to be very honest. I don’t mean that by learning and developmental standards, but by the level of book that you could get a 5-6 year old to read if they were interested enough. I’m talking about the fact that you had 6 year olds reading Harry Potter. Eight year olds reading Twilight. Was it appropriate? That’s a separate question. I’m talking about the vocabulary and grammatical structures— the level of text that they can engage in and digest moderately well if interested enough. This book is below that level. And from what little I’m told and how the characters are turning, at this level, we are preparing for mature content. The book is at a far lower reading level than either of the other texts but the content is about to be incredibly more mature and I don’t understand it. Who is it for. Even for standard reading levels, this book reminds me of elementary school, which is okay! When you like the story! But that’s where it’s getting…eh.
     
     I’m increasingly thinking about the fact that it has what my mind is remembering as an elementary school reading level with mature content, which I know that I haven't gotten to but the juxtaposition of kindergarten reading and sexual content is killing me and making me uncomfortable and I don't know how I'm going to feel about it. I can be simple. I can be childlike. But while I'm simple and childlike don't feed me sex? Like I don't know who the target audience is and I feel like everyone's settling or making something out of the book, not because of what it does but because they're all ghostwriting! Giving it depth! Adding to the book!
     
     I love a simple story! Me and Amazon Prime/Hallmark Christmas movies are like this 🤝 And they can even be intimate, but something about this writing is not it.

103. It feels inappropriate. I don’t know how else to put it. Developmentally inappropriate. I have seen Skins, I have watched most of Skam, across countries. It's not about young characters and intimate content. And simultaneously it's not about "simplistic" writing or even "simple" narratives. It feels inappropriate. I have had the same comments about audiobooks in which a character was emotionally unwell, too unwell to be engaging in what she was engaging in. It felt like witnessing someone blackout drunk be intimate with someone who is sober. She wasn't drunk, but her emotional state was the equivalent. It's inappropriate. This should not be happening. It's like that, but Feyre isn't in any deep emotional state. It's just inappropriate given the depth or lack of depth developed. It's also because the character we met is not the character we got. She's like a whole different person halfway through the book and suddenly just this sexual object, so I’m like oh piss off, because there's no point in the narrative where the attraction actually develops. Hence, I feel like I'm missing chapters.

104. The developmental state of what is unfolding in these pages does not support the intimacy that I’m told is about to occur.
     
     I don’t want to hear it.
     
     Ugh!

105. Like I said, I have watched all of Skins, I have watched most of Skam, across all countries, I have watched Daydream Nation, I have watched Scusa, ma ti chiamo amore— like, age gaps— whatever. Complex. Critical. I get it. I have read all of Twilight, I have watched all of Twilight— age gaps, supernatural whatever, he's lowkey like a century old and she's still in high school (also, why won't Tam say his age when he knows she wants to know; it's weird)— I get iiiiiiiit. I get it all. I'm not even being like weird or critical.
     
     I get it. But even if I push all of that to the side, this book is a different kind of special. I don't even hate it, like I might even re-read it (presuming I don't hate the second half, not finished), but this needed several revisions. It's an idea.

106. It’s like an outline. Go write the damn thing! Why are you telling me about it!

107. What am I supposed to do with this information. Write.

108. Somebody was supposed to tell you I need more, somebody was supposed to tell you Go back, and write more. They didn’t. I don’t know why, my love. Somebody was plotting on your downfall.

109. Money, sure, but…Somebody could’ve nurtured you. They didn’t.

110. [Seeing more critique in the editing than the writer and not wanting to say “she’s a bad writer”]
     
     That’s your job [as an editor]. You’re meant to help her— ? Did she just walk up with a draft and you published it?

111. [On non-critical thoughts; not even complaining that it’s not high-brow enough or about the level that it’s written at for a while]

     
     I’ll meet you at your level. I’ll meet you where you are. But then what? You still gotta do something.
     
     —
     
     The fact I read these first pages, and didn’t even make a comment on the reading or writing level, not until I got farther along
     

     
     I was relaxed with you. I gave you the benefit of the doubt, I gave you opportunity. Not even because I was happy to; it wasn’t a favour I did; I said this is where we are, I’m entering the game as it is, I don’t make the rules, and I met you where you are…and that’s what you did to me. I’m not even upset with Sarah, this is on Bloomsbury. Not to write the book, but to tell her to go back and do more; that was your job. She clearly had a story. You’re meant to nurture it. Tell her More. That was your job.

Um…


It seems I've been typing more than I've been reading. I'll...be back with more thoughts. (Maybe. We'll see if I get far.)