This Is My Secret: The Blog and Website of Writer Kristin Cashore

...but the moon turned out to completely suck."

Have you all read Feed by M. T. Anderson? (That's a link to the Amazon page, if you'd like to read the book's premise. Which you probably don't need to do, because you've read the book already, because you aren't years behind, like I am. You're probably all reading the Octavian Nothing books. Whatever. It just means I'm better than you are at resisting the feed. *thhhbbbtttt*)
Like I was saying, Feed. I'm reading it for the second time this week (by which I mean, I also read it for the first time this week. And now I'm reading it again. For the second time. This week. And ever. I HAVE ONLY EVER READ IT TWICE. THEY WERE BOTH THIS WEEK).
Ahem.
I have something to say about Feed, but I'm not entirely sure what it is. That may not surprise you.
Here's the thing (WARNING: spoilers ahead!). There seem to be things I love about Feed. And while reading it, I find myself wandering ar…

So, my earplugs are among my most prized possessions. Nothing is more important to a writer than a pair of earplugs when, for example, your neighbor develops musical ambitions, or someone starts blowing dust along the sidewalk with one of those damn leaf-blowers. My neighborhood isn't quiet, and most days I put in the earplugs at some point. It helps me focus to be immune to audible distractions.
However, I now know, having conducted an involuntary experiment, that my earplugs do not mask the sound of my living room ceiling collapsing.
Here's how I reacted. I looked up from my writing notebook and, with a sinking feeling of doom, said out loud, "What the f%#@ was that noise?" I put my notebook down, walked into the living room, and took a moment to understand what had happened, because, frankly, the whole room looked like it had exploded, and I didn't get it. Then I looked up.
"Oh my F%#@ING GOD!" I yelled, twice, probably louder than I meant to, due …