Handwritten manuscripts or Typed?
I like handwritten manuscripts because it allows me to see all the scribbles in the margins. You get a sense for how the writer imagines his or her world, where the writer stumbled on thoughts, had run-on sentences, or maybe was getting tired so their handwriting got sloppy. It's like a sketch, you know? It shows the imperfection of the writer. It's actually kinda cool.
Spring or Fall?
I'm goin' with fall. I never felt all that comfortable in the spring. I get these crazy allergies and start sniffling like crazy come April. Trust me, so not fun. Not to mention, it's made my ability come out unexpectedly a few times. There was this time when there was too much pollen in the air, so I sneezed, and a snot full of fire singed my nostrils coming out, ended up burning some flowers. And another time during some heavy rains, this old woman stared me down for five godawful minutes because it was causing the heat to literally come off my clothes. In the fall, life's more laid back. You get to see the colors of the leaves changing. There's this smell that enters the air, and you feel, I don't know...free.
Mountains or Beaches?
Mountains, for sure. I like to get lost sometimes. I live in a cabin on this lake in Connecticut. Sometimes I wander off. Grandma hates it, but I don't care. If it were up to her I wouldn't have a life at all. Trust me, it's real easy to go stir crazy in a cabin if you stay there too long. Truthfully, I've never actually been around any of the crazy high mountains, but there's this park in Hamden called Sleeping Giant. I hiked up there once a few years back, almost fell off the side of the hiking path. The fall might have killed me. Guess I was lucky. I know, the most dangerous thing on a beach is the likely hood that Jaws will come out of the water and chomp on your leg, but being on a mountain just calls to mind so much more of the raw humanity that makes you feel alive.
Hardcover or Paperback?
I think in theory, hardbacks are cool. They look all professional and on and on. But they're usually overpriced and you can't bend the books as easily. I have this copy of The Great Gatsby, one from way back, and it's under my mattress at the cabin. It's got tattered pages, and if I squint really hard, I can make out some scribbled out words someone penciled in ages ago. I've read that paperback a thousand times it seems. I know the pages. I can fold the cover and it bends back. Hardbacks just seem like big, dead things to me.
Rain or Snow?
Snow. I was born in December. The winter gets a bad rap all the time, but I swear it's undeserved. Sure, people tend to get in crazy accidents when it snows, but maybe if they just drove a little more carefully or a little slower, they'd still be alive. Don't blame the weather. Anyway, snow reminds me of my birthday, of Christmas. I mean, it hasn't been all that warm and embracing in the cabin since...well, for a while, but despite the chill, the snow, all white and carefree as it falls, reminds me there's still hope out there, even if you might have to look past the cold.
Coffee or Tea?
I don't much like either. Over the years, I've learned to tolerate Grandma's tea. She's like an addict. If Starbucks didn't have the market, I swear Grandma would go in someplace big and make a ton of cash selling fancy teas to yuppies and yoga freaks. She always says it cleanses her senses and makes her feel all right. I say, whatever. Iced tea isn't so bad, the sweetened kind anyway. I like sweet stuff, like Birch Beer or Root Beer. And I'll even admit to enjoying the smell of Hazelnut coffee. Just don't ask me to try any...I might puke.
If you want to learn more about Arson be sure to check out Arson, and Ashes by Estevan Vega. Here is the synopsis of Arson:
Arson Gable feels like a freak. He can create fire. He never asked for it. He never wanted it. But he can't shut it off. Before now, three things were true: he both loved and despised his grandmother; his life was going nowhere; and he was alone. But when a strange girl—who feels more normal behind a mask than inside her own skin—moves in next door, Arson hopes to find something he's never had: purpose. Using what he fears most about himself, Arson must face his consuming past and confront the nightmare that is his present as he walks the fine line between boy and monster. Dark, moody, and breathtakingly relevant, Arson, the chilling chronicle of an isolated boy with unimaginable ability, is sure to ignite the hearts and minds of a new generation.
And be sure to check out my review later this week!