Welcome! Here, we will feature interviews, spotlights, news, short stories, poems, and more from the world of Wattpad. Read inside to find out how you can get featured in our monthly literary magazine!
More than looking for a compelling and original plot or peculiar characters, what I search for in a story is a particular feeling. I wouldn't know how to exactly describe this feeling, but 'instant nostalgia' is the closest thing to it. The best thing that could happen to me when I read something is that what I'm reading defines that moment in time, the moment of my reading. Much like when studying literature one needs to study the historical circumstances to better understand the works, I like to connect what I'm reading with what is currently happening in my life, so that in my future recollection of that read, I will get an idea of what I was going through during that time.
Unfortunately, not many works have the power to do that. Most of them fly by me, and either the fiction in them is not as great as the reality of my life, or they don't possess a certain quality that makes them exquisite. It's easy to feel the importance of one experience well after it's been experienced, in the form of nostalgia, but it's a whole other thing to feel it while it is happening. That is what I mean by 'instant nostalgia', an immediate realization of the importance of the reading experience. No recollection in tranquility needed.
It is a rare thing to find, but not impossible. And what I have found this month, right here on Wattpad, proves that in the best way possible.
That's why I'm happy to open this inaugural edition of the Avant-Pop Literary Magazine with our first Author Spotlight. We are talking about Kelsey Desmond, desrelly and her ongoing novel 'Everything That Can Never Be'.
I don't know what exactly is about this novel that strikes me as extraordinary. Could be the timeless quality of the writing style, the way it soothes your subconscious; how one bite of this writing calls for another, and before you know it, you've devoured it all. Could be the seductive descriptions, often of an entire chapter's length, a lost art that happens to be music to your eyes, and the slow pace that sways you softly into an experience you feel right as it happens. Could be the well-rounded characters, how unsettlingly realistic they feel, the interior monologues, the awkward, unscripted dialogues, the vastness of their souls, and how you feel like you know them so well, but still don't.
In this incredible novel, there's an underbelly of mystery and creepiness waiting to be unearthed, but it takes a real world's lifetime to happen. When you'll want answers, you'll end up with more questions. There is a level of deception employed by the main character, Jaime, toward other characters, and I can't help but feel as though it is aimed toward us, the readers, as well. This is the kind of story that will make you doubt, wonder, and reconsider everything. You will stand on the threshold between right and wrong, between what's acceptable and what's immoral, between one character's point of view and the other. It is a psychological battle through and through, where 'thought-provoking' is a major understatement.
This book blindfolds you and lends you a hand that might just happen to be sweaty and slippery, and you can't help but let it lead you wherever it wants. And as it whispers exquisite things in your ear throughout this journey, you will find that you can see a lot of interesting things behind your closed eyelids, more than you could when you had your eyes wide open.
Having read what's been published so far, I am always waiting for more, knowing what to expect without ever knowing what to expect. Sometimes I'll find myself thinking back to moments from this novel, and I might just confuse them with moments from real life. And every time, I'll recall these moments fondly, as if they were tainted in a golden light and as if they happened years ago, when we were all younger and happier. The only thing you can expect from this novel is that you'll be surprised, and you will like what you're tasting.
"What are they like?" That sad innocence returns to Saxa's eyes.
"Who? My parents?"
She nods back, careful to not break her eye contact with me as she does so.
"Um...they're okay. Like all other parents, I guess. How about yours?"
She ignores my question. "Do you love them?"
It's an absurd question. Not because I don't know why she's asked it, but because I know that the answer doesn't matter. It doesn't mean anything if I don't love my parents. It's not my fault if I haven't been given parents I can love, and I know that I will be judged for this. She's the type of person who would tell you that family comes first, that there's no place like home, that blood runs thicker than water, always and without exceptions. And if you were to say to her, "No, Saxa, sometimes being family just doesn't mean shit," she would reply that you've just got a clouded judgment, that you're not giving them a fair chance, that you're not making enough excuses for them.
I give her a better answer than the truth, one that she'll want to hear. "Of course, I do," but she doesn't seem satisfied with it. Instead of nodding, smiling, tagging on a charming "me, too," before jumping up and returning her stash of cigarettes back to the drawer like I would expect, she remains silent and still, keeping her pensive gaze on me, furrowing in her brow just a tiny bit more and leaning in just a hair closer to me. "They're the best," I add.
