So I woke up this morning, picked up my book from last night (that I was furiously reading) and finished it off. And I
loved it. I may not love it ten years from now, or love it as much, but right now I really love it.
Then I was struck with a horrid thought, what if my favourite author died? Then what would I read??!
SO I went to google, looked her up, and found out that she was 57 years old.
All I could think was, how many books can she still churn out before she kicks the bucket? (yeah, not very tactful and pretty selfish of me, but that really was the first thought I had).
Anyway, I found her blog and she seems to be really alive... and funny. HAhah.
Robin Mckinley, please don't die until you're really really really old. And continue writing forever if you can!