Jul 31, 2008

waah!!! breaking dawn spoiler

now, now, i went a little berserk upon reading ew.com's articles about stephenies meyer's upcoming breaking dawn. before you flip and break into a celebration dance, please consider reading the articles to the very last word. also remember to stay calm.

i hope you clap at every jolly word the way i did --- the 20-year-old-teenager-wannabe. here you go:

Stephenie Meyer's 'Breaking Dawn': Exclusive Preview
By Karen Valby

With the understanding that this spoiler will send the blogosphere into either a tizzy of celebration or outrage, EW.com hereby reveals a major plot point from Stephenie Meyer's Breaking Dawn, the fourth and final installment to her Twilight series. And no, the forthcoming information is not from a fever dream or a filched copy of the book found in the dusty stock room of a Barnes & Noble. This exclusive spoiler comes straight from Meyer herself, with her explicit go-ahead to share with her fans.

Team Jacob, you staged a valiant effort, urging Bella to choose her faithful, strangely muscular friend instead of her sexy, hairless vampire. But Meyer, clapping her hands and bobbing on her toes, reveals that she had the great fun of writing Bella and Edward's wedding scene. ''And it's not a dream sequence!'' Meyer promises with a laugh. ''It's the actual wedding between Edward and Bella. The wedding! I'm a girly girl so it's something I've been waiting for too.'' Before anyone throws their computer out their bedroom window, screaming that the surprise of the summer has now been ruined for them, Meyer promises that the wedding takes place early on in Breaking Dawn. Trust that unexpected thrills still await.

While we're on a roll, here's another surprise for you: Meyer says she wrote Bella and Edward's wedding scene years ago, initially planning for the young couple to tie the knot shortly after the end of Twilight. Her editor at the time balked that those crazy kids were too young to walk down the aisle, and Meyer, who herself was married and already raising her first son by the age of 23, shelved their eternal bond for a later date.

For those heartbroken that their heroine apparently picks Edward over Jacob, take comfort in the simple fact that Breaking Dawn exists. Meyer says she fought long and hard before her publisher agreed to a fourth book in the series. Little, Brown for Young Readers originally paid the author $750,000 for a three-book deal. Before Twilight had even hit the shelves, Meyer realized there was no way she could wrap up the characters' storylines in three books. But her publisher was nervous about shelling out another chunk of change for an unproven author. ''My books weren't out yet,'' she says. ''Nobody cared about me. I was just this little author they were taking a chance on.'' Eventually, Meyer prevailed, selling the fourth book for $400,000. Lucky Little, Brown. Breaking Dawn is expected to go down as the biggest book of the summer. Everybody wins. Even Team Jacob.

Hi, EW.com readers,

I'm so excited about the August 2 release of Breaking Dawn — I can't wait to finally be able to discuss everything that happens! No more secrets! To help whet your appetite, Entertainment Weekly has an exclusive sneak peak of the first chapter of Breaking Dawn. The entire first chapter is available in the Eclipse Special Edition, out tomorrow, which will also reveal the cover of Breaking Dawn and have Team Edward and Team Jacob iron-on decals. Here it is, I hope you enjoy!

Stephenie Meyer


NO ONE IS STARING AT YOU, I promised myself. No one is staring at you. No one is staring at you.

But, because I couldn't lie convincingly even to myself, I had to check.

As I sat waiting for one of the three traffic lights in town to turn green, I peeked to the right — in her minivan, Mrs. Weber had turned her whole torso in my direction. Her eyes bored into mine, and I flinched back, wondering why she didn't drop her gaze or look ashamed. It was still considered rude to stare at people, wasn't it? Didn't that apply to me anymore?

Then I remembered that these windows were so darkly tinted that she probably had no idea if it was even me in here, let alone that I'd caught her looking. I tried to take some comfort in the fact that she wasn't really staring at me, just the car.

My car. Sigh.

I glanced to the left and groaned. Two pedestrians were frozen on the sidewalk, missing their chance to cross as they stared. Behind them, Mr. Marshall was gawking through the plate glass window of his little souvenir shop. At least he didn't have his nose pressed up against the glass. Yet.

The light turned green and, in my hurry to escape, I stomped on the gas pedal without thinking — the normal way I would have punched it to get my ancient Chevy truck moving.

Engine snarling like a hunting panther, the car jolted forward so fast that my body slammed into the black leather seat and my stomach flattened against my spine.

''Arg!'' I gasped as I fumbled for the brake. Keeping my head, I merely tapped the pedal. The car lurched to an absolute standstill anyway.

I couldn't bear to look around at the reaction. If there had been any doubt as to who was driving this car before, it was gone now. With the toe of my shoe, I gently nudged the gas pedal down one half millimeter, and the car shot forward again.

I managed to reach my goal, the gas station. If I hadn't been running on vapors, I wouldn't have come into town at all. I was going without a lot of things these days, like Pop-Tarts and shoelaces, to avoid spending time in public.

Moving as if I were in a race, I got the hatch open, the cap off, the card scanned, and the nozzle in the tank within seconds. Of course, there was nothing I could do to make the numbers on the gauge pick up the pace. They ticked by sluggishly, almost as if they were doing it just to annoy me.

It wasn't bright out — a typically drizzly day in Forks, Washington — but I still felt like a spotlight was trained on me, drawing attention to the delicate ring on my left hand. At times like this, sensing the eyes on my back, it felt as if the ring were pulsing like a neon sign: Look at me, look at me.

It was stupid to be so self-conscious, and I knew that. Besides my dad and mom, did it really matter what people were saying about my engagement? About my new car? About my mysterious acceptance into an Ivy League college? About the shiny black credit card that felt red-hot in my back pocket right now?

''Yeah, who cares what they think,'' I muttered under my breath.

(c) 2008 by Stephenie Meyer, reprinted with permission from the Eclipse Special Edition published by Little, Brown and Company.