To Stephanie Meyer,
You were the first author that came to mind when I was asked to write a letter to an author for a school assignment. It helped that one of your books was on the desk next to me at the time.
Your books have amazing plots. The use of first person allows your characters to seem real, as if you’re writing what actually happened. It helps me get into the plot if it feels like I’m watching life through their eyes.The Host is my favorite of your books. It addresses so many problems and moral issues. The main character Wanderer has to decide what bad actually is when a band of humans captures her. You manage even the smallest storylines so that they come in and out of Wanderer’s life briefly but as realistically as strangers and temporary acquaintances do in our own lives. I can identify with the characters; they all have their quirks and oddities. Even the characters that seem bad, like the Seeker, have a reason for making life for Wanderer and the people she cares about hard. The bad guys are not just faceless, flat bad guys.Another thing that I enjoy about your books is that the writing has just enough descriptors to assist a mental picture of the character and the settings but not so much that you get bogged down in the descriptions. “His laugh cleared a section of mist, and I saw the room for the first time. Two rivers flowed through the dank, high-domed space. This was the chatter that filled my ears – the water gushing over and under the purple volcanic rock. Jeb spoke as if we were alone because we were.” This style allows the stories to flow naturally and has always been the style I prefer for writing. Your writing is an excellent example of this style. All of this makes for some of the most inspirational and amazing stories I read and I hope you will continue to publish books.

Meaghan
Charlottesville, VA

WR3-2

To Stephanie Meyer,
Your books have amazing plots. The use of first person allows your characters to seem real, as if you’re writing what actually happened. It helps me get into the plot if it feels like I’m watching life through their eyes.
The Host is my favorite of your books. It addresses so many problems and moral issues. The main character Wanderer has to decide what bad actually is when she gets captured by a band of humans. You manage even the smallest storylines so that they come in and out of Wanderer’s life briefly but as realistically as strangers and temporary acquaintances do in our own lives. I can identify with the characters; they all have their quirks and oddities. Even the characters that seem bad, like the Seeker, have a reason for making life for Wanderer and the people she cares about hard. The bad guys are not just faceless, flat bad guys.
Another thing that I enjoy about your books is that the writing has just enough descriptors to assist a mental picture of the character but not so much that you get bogged down in the descriptions. “His laugh cleared a section of mist, and I saw the room for the first time. Two rivers flowed through the dank, high-domed space. This was the chatter that filled my ears – the water gushing over and under the purple volcanic rock. Jeb spoke as if we were alone because we were.” This style allows the stories to flow naturally and has always been the style I prefer for writing. Your writing is an excellent example of this style. All of this makes for some of the most inspirational and amazing stories I read and I hope you will continue to publish books.

WR3-1

To Stephanie Meyer,
Your books are amazing stories. Your characters seem real, as if you’re writing stories that actually happened. You can get into their stories and it seems that you’re standing there with them watching them live life. "The Host" is my favorite of your books. It addresses so many problems and moral issues that are occurring today, using a captivating cast of characters. You feel as if you can identify with the characters, they all have their quirks and oddities that make them real. Even the characters that seem bad have a reason for making life for Wanderer and the people she cares about hard. They’re not just faceless, flat bad guys. You manage even the smallest storylines so that they come in and out of Wanderer’s life briefly but as realistically as strangers and temporary acquaintances do in our own lives. Another thing that I enjoy about your books is that the writing has just enough descriptors to assist a mental picture of the character but not so much that you get bogged down in the descriptions and allows the stories to flow naturally. This style of writing has always been the style I prefer for writing and yours is an excellent example of this style. All of this makes for some of the most inspirational and amazing stories I read and I hope you will continue to publish books.

WR2-3

Dai sat on a section of the crumbling garden wall under one of the huge oaks that dominated the grounds of the Greggerson Academy for Gifted Students. It was one of the few shady spots that day. He slipped out of the scratchy wool jacket required by the school. The day was so hot! This was not November weather. It was perfectly clear with the sun beating down of the grass. Sun filtering through the branches created a lace picnic blanket under each tree. A tiny ballerina spiraled out of the branches over him and danced its way through the air, its sharp edges outlined against the sun until it touched earth and became a leaf again. Laughter from a clump of students erupted. Dai wondered absently what the joke had been. He could not hear very well, they were too far away.He turned his attention to another group as he reached into his bag for another apple slice. A girl waved her hand at someone emerging from the shadowy entrance of the school. Break was more animated today; the babble of the students rose and fell. It was the first day back after the nine weeks break, although it was Dai’s first day at the school. He was the new student Dai Walker, year 2, primary subject: English.
“Hey! Kid on the wall! Wake up!” Dai nearly fell of the wall when a voice near his knee shouted. He looked down and fell off the wall when a hand waving in his face nearly took his nose off.
“Opps! Sorry ‘bout that. You looked like you were about to fall off anyway staring out into space like you were asleep or something. I’m Branwell Archer by the way.” Dai looked up to find the owner of the chattering voice peering over the wall his messy white hair hanging into his blue eyes.
“Do ya need a hand?” Branwell reached a hand over the tall wall awkwardly. Then with a look of shock, his face disappeared. Dai jumped up and looked over the wall to see Branwell lying in the dirt under the tree rubbing his back. His face had such a look of comic surprise that Dai burst out laughing. Branwell had lost his grip on the wall.
“Hey! Don’t stand there in convulsions climb over and help me out!” Branwell's look of surprise turned to indignation. Still laughing Dai obliged using the spaces in the crumbling mortar as foot holds.
“I’m Dai Walker. Nice to meet you Branwell.” Dai extended a hand.
“Call me Bran, I hate Branwell.” Bran made a face, “Unfortunately I had no say in my naming.” He leaned in closer, “my Mum named me after her old dog. Can you believe it?” His expression switched from conspiratorial to pleading. “Don’t tell anyone this is our secret.”
“Okay, but you’re so quiet I can barely hear you,” Dai whispered back. Then louder, “Is drama your primary?”
“Yep what’s yours?”
“English.”
“So, you’re going to be the next Shakespeare! Cool. Would you write me a play? Please?”
“Yo, Snow White! Who’s your friend? He’s too big to be one of the seven dwarves.” They were walking up the lawn towards the school when a huge boy stood up and shouted at Bran. He kept walking past the boy. The bigger boy stepped around his friends and walked next to Bran. “I said who’s you’re friend Whitey?” Dai looked back and forth as he considered saying something. When Bran did not answer, the boy stepped in front of him and punched him in the face. Dai caught him as he fell back. He put him down on the ground as the boy addressed him “So who are ya kid?”
“I don’t feel like sharing seeing as you just punched my friend. So you can answer first.” Dai knew what would happen next. Sure enough, the boy growled wordlessly and went to punch him.Dai managed to side step the first few punches and got a few in himself. His third punch broke the boy’s nose with a sickening crunch. Unfortunately, this caused his equally huge friends to join the fight. The last thing Dai heard was adults shouting and then a sharp pain in his temple.
He woke to the buzzing of a ceiling fan and the rough weave of sheets on a bed. When he opened his eyes, he discovered he could only see out of one eye and the light from the window next to the bed seemed brighter than usual, at least the overhead lights weren’t on. When his eye adjusted to the light, he saw the plain white ceiling, curtains around his bed, and someone sitting in the chair next to the bed. He went to sit up gasped as the world spun and he fainted back onto the sheets.

WR2-2

Dai sat under one of the huge oaks that dominated the grounds of the Greggerson Academy for Gifted Students on a section of the crumbling garden wall. It was one of the few shady spots that day. He slipped out of his Letter jacket. The day was so hot! This was not November weather. It was perfectly clear with the sun beating down of the grass. Sun filtering through the branches created a lace picnic blanket under each tree. A tiny ballerina spiraled out of the branches over him and danced its way through the air, its sharp edges outlined against the sun until it touched earth and became a leaf again. Laughter from a clump of students erupted. Dai wondered absently what the joke had been. He could not hear very well, they were too far away.He turned his attention to another group as he reached into his bag for another apple slice. A girl waved her hand at someone emerging from the shadowy entrance of the school. Break was more animated today because it was the first day back after the nine weeks break. It was Dai’s first day at the school. He was a new student and was now Dai Walker, year 2, primary subject: English.
“Hey! Kid on the wall! Wake up!” Dai nearly fell of the wall when a voice near his knee shouted. He looked down and fell off the wall as he nearly got his nose taken off by a hand waving in his face.
“Opps! Sorry ‘bout that. You looked like you were about to fall off anyway staring out into space like you were asleep or something. I’m Branwell Archer by the way.” Dai looked up to find the owner of the chattering voice peering over the wall his messy white hair hanging into his blue eyes.
“Do ya need a hand?” Branwell extended a hand over the wall awkwardly. Then with a look of shock, his face disappeared. Dai jumped up and looked over the wall to see Branwell lying on the dirt under the tree rubbing his back. His face had such a look of exaggerated surprise that Dai burst out laughing. Branwell had lost his grip on the wall.
“Hey! Don’t stand there in convulsions climb over and help me out!” Branwell's look of surprise turned to indignation. Still laughing Dai obliged using the spaces in the crumbling mortar as foot holds.
“I’m Dai Walker. Nice to meet you Branwell.” Dai extended a hand.
“Call me Bran, I hate Branwell.” Bran made a face, “Unfortunately I had no say in my naming.” He leaned in closer, “my Mum named me after her old dog. Can you believe it?” His expression switched from conspiratorial to pleading. “Don’t tell anyone this is our secret.”
“Okay, but you’re so quiet I can barely hear you,” Dai whispered back. Then louder, “Is drama your primary?”
“Yep what’s yours?”
“English”
“So, you’re going to be the next Shakespeare! Cool. Would you write me a play? Please?”
“Yo, Snow White! Who’s your friend? He’s too big to be one of the seven dwarves.” They were walking up the lawn towards the school when a huge boy stood up and shouted at Bran. He kept walking past the boy. The bigger boy stepped around his friends and walked next to Bran. “I said who’s you’re friend Whitey?” Dai looked back and forth as he considered saying something. When Bran did not answer, the boy stepped in front of him and punched him in the face. Dai caught him as he fell back. He put him down on the ground as the boy addressed him “So who are ya kid?”
“I don’t feel like sharing seeing as you just punched my friend. So you can answer first.” Dai knew what would happen next. Sure enough, the boy growled wordlessly and went to punch him.Dai managed to side step the first few punches and got a few in himself. His third punch broke the boy’s nose with a sickening crunch. Unfortunately, this caused his equally huge friends to join the fight. The last thing Dai heard was adults shouting and then a sharp pain in his temple.
He woke to the buzzing of a ceiling fan and the rough weave of sheets on a bed. When he opened his eyes, he discovered he could only see out of one eye and the light from the window next to the bed was brighter than usual. When his eye adjusted to the light, he saw the plain white ceiling, curtains around his bed, and someone sitting in the chair next to the bed. He went to sit up gasped as the world spun and he fainted back onto the sheets

WR2-1

Dai sat on a section of the crumbling garden wall under one of the huge oaks that dominated the grounds of the Greggerson Academy for Gifted Students. It was one of the few shady spots on the accessible part of the grounds. He slipped out of his school jacket. The day was so hot! This was not November weather. It was perfectly clear with the sun beating down of the grass and clumps of students it felt like it was about eighty degrees out. Sun filtering through the trees created a lace picnic blanket under the branches of each tree. A tiny ballerina spiraled out of the branches over him and despite the lack of breeze and danced its way through the air its sharp edges outlined against the sun until it touched earth and became a leaf again. Laughter from a clump of students erupted. A boy told the joke again explaining it for the girl who sat next to him who was quite clearly un-amused. Dai wondered absently what the joke had been. He could not hear very well, they were too far away.
He turned his attention to another group as he reached into his bag for another apple slice. A girl waved her hand at another girl who was emerging from the shadowy entrance of the school. Break was more animated today because it was the first day back after the nine weeks break. It was Dai’s first day at the school. He was a new student and was now Dai Walker, year 2, primary subject: English.
“OY! Kid on the wall! Somthin’ Walker! Wake up!” Dai nearly fell of the wall when a voice near his knee shouted. He looked down and nearly got his nose taken off by a hand waving in his face. This time he did fall off the wall.
“Opps! Sorry ‘bout that. You looked like you were about to fall off anyway staring out into space like you were asleep or something. I’m Branwell Archer by the way.” Dai looked up to find the owner of the chattering voice peering over the wall his messy white hair hanging into his eyes.
“Do ya need a hand?” Branwell extended a hand over the wall awkwardly. Then with a look of shock, his face disappeared. Dai jumped up and looked over the wall to see Branwell lying on the ground rubbing his back. his face had such a look of exaggerated surprise on his face that Dai burst out laughing. Branwell had sliped.
“Hey! Don’t stand there in convulsions climb over and help me out!” Branwell's look of surprise turned to indignation. Still laughing Dai obliged.
“I’m Dai Walker. Nice to meet you Branwell.” Dai extended a hand.
“Bran actually. Call me Bran, I hate Branwell.” Bran made a face, “Unfortunately I had no say in my naming.” He leaned in closer, “My Mum named me after her old dog. Can you believe it?” His expression switched from conspiratorial to pleading. “Don’t tell anyone this is our secret.”
“Okay, but you’re so quiet I can barely hear you,” Dai whispered back. Then louder, “Is drama your primary?”
“Yep what’s yours?”
“English”
“So, you’re going to be the next Shakespeare! Cool. Would you write me a play in which I am the hero? Please?”

“Yo, Snow White! Who’s your friend? He’s too big to be one of the seven dwarves.” They were walking up the lawn towards the school when a huge boy stood up and shouted at Bran. He kept walking past the boy. The bigger boy stepped around his friends and walked next to Bran. “I said who’s you’re friend Whitey?” Dai looked back and forth considering saying something. When Bran did not answer, the boy stepped in front of him and punched him in the face. Dai caught him as he fell back. His hair really did feel like a girl’s is was so soft and fine. He laid him down on the ground as the boy addressed him “So who are ya kid?”
“I don’t feel like sharing seeing as you just punched my friend. So you can answer first.” Dai knew what would happen next so he steeled himself to jump. Sure enough, the boy growled wordlessly and went to punch him.
Dai managed to side step the first few punches and even got a few in himself. His third punch broke the boy’s nose with a sickening crunch. Unfortunetly, this caused his equally huge friends to join the fight. The last thing Dai heard was adults shouting and then a sharp pain in his temple.

He woke to the buzzing of a ceiling fan and the rough weave of sheets on a bed. When he opened his eyes, he discovered he could only see out of one eye and the light from the window next to the bed was brighter than usual. When his eye adjusted to the light, he saw the plain white ceiling, curtains around his bed, and a girl sitting in the chair next to the bed. He went to sit up gasped as the world spun and he fainted back onto the sheets.

WR-3

Riding a bike has never been a big thing for me. I was coordinated for a little kid when I was younger, but the thought of riding and balancing on two thin tubes of rubber scared the heck out of me so bike riding was never high on my list. Because of this, I was nine when I finally took my training wheels off. I had been putting it off for years because I was sure that as soon as the extra wheels were taken off I would suffer a horrible accident. In fact, I hadn't even crashed before. I was too cautious and did not go fast. Eventually I got sick of watching my younger sister and friend ride faster than me and asked my dad to take off my training wheels. I pushed off with my dad holding on to the seat. When he let go I did not fall, crash, or die.After a couple months of riding around an empty lot behind a church, I was comfortable on my two-wheeler and stopped worrying so much. I had not crashed badly yet, just a few scrapes when I lost my balance. My sister, my friend, Alex, and his sister, Clare decided to race down a hill near my house, this time I decided to join them. At first we took turns going down the hill as fast as we could then we started trying to beat each other two people at a time. Eventually we ended up all going down together. The third time we did this Clare and I were out in front and it was exhilarating! It felt like I was flying we were going so fast. We both leaned over the handlebars to go faster so neither of us noticed when we started veering toward each other. We both noticed when we hit though. In a second, I was on the ground with two bikes and a person on top of me. My first thought was one of bewilderment, I had no idea what had just happened. Then as I realized what was going on and where I was, I burst into tears. After Alex and my sister pulled both bikes off me, I had to walk my bike back up the hill to my house. I turned out I was not even that badly injured the inside of my leg was scraped but I hadn't broken anything, nor did I need stitches. I don’t even have scars now, but it still took me many hours going up and down our street to regain confidence on a bike

WA-1

Riding a bike has never been a big thing for me. I was fairly coordinated when I was younger but the thought of riding and balancing on two thin tubes of rubber scared the heck out of me so bike riding was never high on my list. Because of this I was nine when I finally took my training wheels off. I had been putting it off because I was sure that as soon as the extra wheels were taken off I would suffer a horrible accident. Eventually I got sick of watching my younger sister and friend ride faster than me and ask my dad to take off my training wheels. I pushed off and, miracle of all miracles, I didn’t fall, crash, or die.
After a couple months I was comfortable on my two wheeler and stopped worrying. I hadn’t crashed badly yet and one day I decided to race my sister, my friend, and his sister. At first we took turns going down the hill as fast as we could then we started trying to beat each other. Eventually we ended up all going down together. The third time we did this I and my friends sister were out in front It was amazing going as fast as we were. I felt like I was flying I didn’t notice I was veering toward the sister or that she was veering towards me. I did notice when we hi though. Suddenly I was on the ground with two bikes and a person on top of me. My first thought was one of bewilderment I had no idea what had just happened. Then as I realized what had happened I burst into tears. After both bikes had been pulled off me I had to walk my bike back up the hill to my house. I turned out I wasn’t even that badly injured but it still took me a while to regain confidence on a bike.

WA-2

Riding a bike has never been a big thing for me. I was fairly coordinated when I was younger but the thought of riding and balancing on two thin tubes of rubber scared the heck out of me so bike riding was never high on my list. Because of this I was nine when I finally took my training wheels off. I had been putting it off for years because I was sure that as soon as the extra wheels were taken off I would suffer a horrible accident. In fact I hadn't even crashed before. I was too cautious and did not go fast. Eventually I got sick of watching my younger sister and friend ride faster than me and asked my dad to take off my training wheels. I pushed off with my dad holding on to the seat and when he let go I didn’t fall, crash, or die.
After a couple months of riding around an empty lot I was comfortable on my two wheeler and stopped worrying so much. I hadn’t crashed badly yet and one day my sister, my friend, Alex, and his sister, Clare decided to race down a hill near my house. At first we took turns going down the hill as fast as we could then we started trying to beat each other two people at a time. Eventually we ended up all going down together. The third time we did this Clare and I were out in front and it was amazing! I felt like I was flying we were going so fast. We both leaned over the handle bars to go faster so neither of us noticed when we started veering toward each other. We both noticed when we hit though. In a second I was on the ground with two bikes and a person on top of me.

My first thought was one of bewilderment as I had no idea what had just happened. Then as I realized what was going on and where I was I burst into tears. After Alex and my sister pulled both bikes off me I had to walk my bike back up the hill to my house. I turned out I wasn’t even that badly injured the inside of my leg was scraped but I hadn't broken anything nor did I need stitches. I don't even have scars now, but it still took me many hours going up and down our street to regain confidence on a bike.