If you’ve been reading my posts up until now, here are a few updates.

1) I never finished my dad’s memoirs, so I still have those to take care of.

2) I joined a mailing list for Christian YA writers (which is not the same as the critique forum I joined but may be affiliated with it), where I get to critique other people’s work and they get to critique mine. Because, obviously, I have too much time on my hands with my dad’s unedited memoirs, daily character leveling on World of Warcraft, and massive guilt over neglecting the Sims 2 now that my 3GB of downloads have slowed the game to a crawl.

3) I am writing almost daily on my warcraft humor blog, Letters from Birdfall, where I vent about people who annoy me, give tips on how to find cute pets in-game, and report on the most recent news in pink clothing.

I think I should just go take a bath and read that non-teen novel I got from the library, thereby ignoring everything I need to do.

I joined a “Young Adult & Contemporary” critique group online. So far, it’s pretty small, but I’m looking forward to it.

I also found a local writers’ group that meets at the library in town. Monthly. Not even bi-monthly, which is what I was hoping for. And even though I can go in March, I’ll be out of town in April. It seems more like a “sharing” group than a workshop, though — so not quite as intense, and more likely to have people who are just there for the society.

Which is kind of annoying for those of us who actually like getting down and dirty into the writing and critiquing part. I’m actually really energized by a good, constructive critiquing session. And, no, that’s not weird. For a writer, at least. For a normal person, yeah, maybe.

Anyway, we went to the library today and I got seven books and already finished one. I lurk almost exclusively in the young adult aisles in any bookstore or library, and all but one of my library books are for teens. I never really realized before that I’m writing something that I truly, fervently love. I mean, I’ve always been enthusiastic about teen novels, but I’ve been a little embarrassed, as well. It wasn’t until this past year that I realized that I’m never going to outgrow them. There’s just something so perfect about curling up in bed with a cat, a cup of tea with milk, and a book about a shy girl that gets the guy. (Yes, Tiger actually stayed on the bed with me! Woohoo!)

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