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This two hour audiobook was just perfectly nightmarish. It hit many of the holy shitake fears most of us have without being predictable. Read by the author, and well done.
In this dystopian sci-fi novel, we meet Elise, a mom with two young girls trying to survive an invasion of subterranean humanoids. After a harrowing rescue at the safe zone, Elise is drafted to use her scientific knowledge to reclaim humanity.
I love the creativity behind the undergrounders' entire existence, from their creepy physical appearance to their cannibalism. This is one of those novels that stands out from others in its genre.
You know how we say kids will grow out of their fear of the dark? Well, thanks to Eli Constant, I'm reversing in that department, afraid that the beasties are going to claw their way into my nightmares when I turn the light out at night.
I’m a big fan of printing when it comes to proofing you manuscript. I have a few reasons for this:
You get way more resolution on paper then you do with the average screen. I suppose if you’re looking at an e-ink reader (Kindle, Nook, etc.) or iPad, you have similar levels of resolution, but with the latter technology, you still have the problem of image refreshing. (This is what happens with a backlit screen — the image is recreated over and over as you look at it.) I actually like my Kindle for reading because it doesn’t have that refreshing issue, and it behaves like paper. In fact, it’s not a bad choice for some proofing activities, but the problem with it is you can’t write on it.
Unlike the Kindle, paper allows me to scratch my thoughts, proofing marks and rewritten sentences right on the manuscript. The downside is that I still have to go back to the electronic file to make the changes, but the upside is I can noodle and doodle as I please. Plus, red pen!
Unlike electronic files, paper allows us to move back and forth in physical space. It’s easy to lose track of how long something is when we’re typing words in electronic ether, but when you see it in loose leaf paper, it’s obvious. That gorgeous paragraph, about the sunset and how its light reflects off the blonde hair of the protagonist’s lover? Well, it’s two pages long and it has to go.
If you're not guaranteed of being published, this may be as good as it gets. I’ve written at least two novels for which this is true. (I can’t account for the future, so at some point it may be more than two.) There is just something so real about looking at that big stack of paper, filled with lines and lines of your words. You wrote that, motherfucker! Good for you!
