Oh, wow :D I have fifteen followers now. I was so excited at twelve, because that's one of my favorite numbers, and now I have fifteen! Fifteen is a bigger number than twelve!
Okay, sorry, had to spaz out a little there.
I have been being terrible and not blogging as much as I'd like, but as my sister pointed out I'm in school right now, so that's bound to happen. And I should be working on my story right now, but, shh! if you don't say anything it might not notice.
The other day I went to this fancy-schmancy library that was HUGE-a-mongous. [Oh, btw Shelli is having this library exciting thing that is super cool. Wow. §That was descriptive.]
Anyway, I just love libraries. They are amazing, and most of the librarians I know are just swell. This library was a little daunting. It had sliding glass doors in the front, and there was a fancy card you could get so that you could check your books out YOURSELF. *GASP* What is the world coming to? And I know there was probably a good reason for it, but the lady who helped me at the front counter had gloves on.
Germs, germs, everywhere!
It was a little bit creepy. But before that creepy-happenstance I was down in the young adult section, because that is where I usually peruse around for books. It was cool, because they had little write-ups over each section explaining what the type of books were. (Though, if a group of books is labeled 'Humor' I would hope the kids could figure out what that meant.) Over the fantasy section there was this little sign:
Fancy-Schmancy labels
Note the word impossible. Why? It made me mad. Now, I know fantasy elements aren't "real" blah, blah, blah. But it seemed somehow harsh to have it pointed out, right there in front of my face. (Actually it was above my face, but that is hardly relevant.) I write fantasy. I enjoy writing fantasy. A huge part of me believes that it IS real, no matter what library placards say.
"Stories that could not happen" just made me lurch inside. Especially because I am writing a story about a girl who is a fantasy writer who ends up having a "mythologically-real" (as she calls it) creature stalk her. To think that such a thing is impossible and cannot happen... Well, it just sucks the magic out of life.
Which is why I think I write fantasy. Because I do believe it's possible. Because I like to think that "impossible" things can happen. Don't you?
