So, October didn't really happen there.
And then November didn't really happen, either.
let's not even get into December.
Well, things happened.
But they didn't happen happen
cause we didn't look at any books.
That's really sad when you think about it.
And then, worst of all,
nothing happened yesterday.
What was so important about yesterday?
Yesterday was the two-year anniversary of
Books On My Parents' Shelves.
To borrow a term from the cactus garden,
it was the Books blogday.
You know what, though?
We can make up for lost time
with a new game.
(This is where you all cheer exuberantly with happiness.)
Don't cheer then.)
Anyway, our new game is called
Like all of our games,
the title is pretty self-evident.
Which is a good thing,
especially since I don't think I'd remember more complicated titles.
But, as most of you know,
the first sentence of a book can decide it's fate.
A bad first sentence,
and editors and agents won't go on to read the rest of the book.
Readers won't check the book out of the library.
Authors get disowned by their families
and are forced to live out the rest of their days
in Writer Coal Mines,
where they are forced to spout famous literary quotes
while mining the internet for new words to add to the Oxford Dictionary
in an attempt to atone for their crimes.
Many die a horrible death from the Hashtag Plague.
so that might be a bit of a stretch.
But bad first sentences still really suck.
So, in celebration of
Books on My Parents' Shelves
I've come up with some first sentences of my own,
based entirely off of the cover images.
They had always known secret dangers lurked behind the sunflowers,
but there, on that first bright spring morning,
Agnes knew the legends were true.
Readers, be warned:
This is not a tale for the faint of heart, the slowest of growers, or the zoophobic;
this adventure we are about to embark upon
is only for those with the strongest of stomachs.
His namesake had always claimed
"It wasn't easy being being green,"
but the truth was it was.
It was so very easy.
(Okay, so that one was two sentences.
I failed at the game, but it was worth it.
So very worth it.)
It was the eve of the apocalypse,
but no one really seemed to mind —
after all, the sun was shining
and the underground bunker was almost complete.
Grandfather knew it was wrong to raise the wolf as a boy,
but somehow, despite all his best efforts,
he just couldn't find the nerve to tell the lupine the truth;
it was a secret he knew he would take to his grave.
And now I'm off to the coal mines.
Happy belated blogday!