I think I'm torturing myself with a book. I've been reading the Carrie Diaries since yesterday morning (almost finished and reading for the hell of it, not for review) and all it's done is stir up a bunch of emotions in me that maybe should not have been stirred. Only I can't put the frealing thing down!
I know, dangerous right? Right.
What's it causing me to think about? High school, first boyfriends, back stabbing friends, my own writing career or lack of it, and fashion. Lots of shoes, purses, coats etc.
There have been two writers in the history of my reading life who's works have embedded themselves so deeply into my world to cause such extremes in me, Anne Rice and Candace Bushnell.
And why am I devouring this book you are thinking my Spudguns? Because, there is suppose to be a movie version of it in the works, and there is already a second (third actually as Carrie Diaries is the first prequel/sequel to Sex and the City) SATC book out already - Summer in the City- which I have to get my hands on. I'm a total sucker for prequels.