*sigh* I’ve had an uneventful book weekend. Oh I’ve been reading, desperately trying to find another that made me feel like “How to Kill a Rock Star“, “Beautiful Disaster” and “Flat-Out Love” did.
This weekend involved three books (all “rockstar-ish”) and none of the caliber of the books I’ve enjoyed over the last couple of weeks. Each one, almost generic in feel. Not sure how to describe the actual “writing” other than by saying they were mostly just telling me about the characters instead of having me feel it and live it myself. I was never there, never transported, just reading about them, instead if being them.
