Cynthia Lee writes young and new adult works of fantasy


January 2016


If I could stretch like a cat, I would.  Right here at my desk.  I’m referring to a full-body tongue-lolling kitty cat stretch.

That would feel so good right now.

But there are miles to go before I sleep, before I stretch.

Writing a novel is funny because there is a train running through your head and its passengers consist of “How Many Words Today?” and “This Story Sucks More Than A Sucking Thing.”  Then as the train gets closer to its destination, you start to think that you might just make it safely to the station.  Maybe the book is that bad.

And so it goes. . .








Slide down the Bat Cave

This is the Bat Cave my son made from his Batman Lego set.  It is so cute that if I look at it any longer, my heart may cave in.

Little Batman sitting at his Batcomputer is so cute that I can’t stand it.  I’m overwhelmed with love and cuteness and many other feelings that I can’t describe.

In other totally unrelated news, the husband and I went to see The Hateful Eight and boy, was it hateful.  I thought it was hilarious.  And, in a strange way, kinda exhilarating.  Some dark part of me really loves Tarantino’s somewhat perverse love of exploitation films.  I don’t love exploitation films but I love HIS love of them, if you know what I mean.  And I really admire how he has created his own weird little universe and somehow, against all odds, he continues to make his weird films within it, not caring what anyone says, just doing what he wants.

Also, Samuel L. Jackson is just plain funny.  I love it when he squints at things.  He’s as fine a squinter as Clint Eastwood.

Create a free website or blog at

Up ↑