Whilst trying to figure out something poignant to say, I happened to glance out my window and discover the most beautiful sunset happening outside my bedroom window. Naturally my first thought was to document it, rather than savour in the beauty of it. It disappeared after 3 or 4 minutes.

I’m currently in the middle of reading Susan Ee’s Angelfall and there are parts of the book, that I am looking at quite anxiously going, ‘Shit, my character does this thing too. Fuckety fuck.” The only thing that keeps me from ridding the whole damn novel is, Angelfall is a dystopian paranormal YA. Whereas mine is pure paranormal. God I hate that word. Paranormal. It feels icky writing it. When I picture the word paranormal and the connotations behind it, I think, weird, creepy and sad. Whereas that is so far from the truth. I’ve read so much of that genre, just under different guises.

I know my stressing over vague similarities between my book and Susan Ee’s book are ridiculous. And by vague I mean in my book Solace my character Esme drags an angel through the woods after she finds him stabbed. In Angelfall, Penryn lifts the angel into a wheelchair and brings him to safety. I know i’m just being ridiculous and dramatic and flailing all over the place, but it unsettled me for a day or two. Fingers crossed the angel and Penryn don’t fall in love…oh wait…shit.

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