Recreation, and a Beginning

Hi everyone, it’s been a while since I’ve made a post like this. Some of you may have noticed that I recently cleaned out my neurodivergent-focused Instagram, colorsofadhd. After receiving some advice, I decided to revamp both the account and this blog.

What will happen to Pen and Book?

This blog won’t be going anywhere. I’ve put a lot of work into Pen and Book since creating it in 2020, and have no intentions to erase any of that. Instead of just focusing on my own writing, I’ll aim to also cover the books I’m currently reading. The older work will remain up if you want to view the pandemic-era narratives, or any of my other work!

When will the first review be released?

Currently, there's no exact release date for the first review, which will be written on Late Bloomer by Mazey Eddings. I'm soon leaving for an international trip for just over two weeks, and aim to enjoy every second of it. I aim to resume normal posting when I return.

Four years of work, both visible and unseen, has been put into this blog and my writings as a whole. I hope that you'll stick with me for the journey ahead.

@pen.andbook_

Comments

Too Much Crying

Everything used to be big when I was small, or maybe it was just that it was the same size and I was shorter. Sometimes I have vague memories of a hallway that I no longer know, each step tall enough that I had to lift my leg high up to my waist to climb up them. There was someone waiting at the top for me, a nondescript figure in brown heels. The ones that look like they have a T going across them. With each step that I take up the stairs, her mouth moves. I can’t comprehend that she is talking to me. Colorful paint has been put on all of my fingers by a tall lady, who probably isn’t that old but she’s so much taller than me that I can’t see the top of her. Taller than the highest tower that I can build out of blocks, taller than me until they go falling down. It was hard work to build that tower of blocks, and I cried when they fell down. I didn’t like seeing my tower fall down. Just like when the tall lady puts the paint on my hand, I start to cry because it is cold. I do...

Meow, Meow.

Here’s a silly little post about the cat that’s been wandering around my neighborhood lately. He’s pretty friendly! One of my friends commented that my messages read like poetry, so I turned the text into a poem. [originally posted on Instagram.] 💞 There was cat yesterday. The cat likes me. He was following me back to my house. This is not my cat. It is my neighbor’s cat. I cannot catnap a cat. I still don’t know the cat’s name, so I’m calling him Kitty Cat. His ears twitch when he hears me talking. The cat distribution system cannot be denied.

Fourth Wing: A Review

It's been a while since Fourth Wing took BookTok by storm, catapulting itself to the top of people's TBR lists with promises of dragons, and sass, and sassy dragons. The avid chatter caught my attention, but I held off on reading the book for precisely that reason. With opinions clamoring for your focus, skewing your independent perspective with their own, it was impossible to tell if the book deserved the praise that it was being handed. So, I waited... and waited... and waited some more. I readily admit that, upon buying the book from a wholesale club, I finished Fourth Wing in two or three days. With that being said, there were a few fairly large snags in the plot which disrupted my sense of disbelief. When a character is written specifically for a trope, they can be difficult. Xaden knows that he is unlikeable- not just from Violet's perspective, but by the quadrant as a whole- and uses it to his advantage when his life becomes entwined with the daughter of his father...

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