So hello! It's been a long, long time and I'm really very sorry that I've been so M.I.A. I'm hoping that'll be over soon as I'm finally learning how to balance my big-kid job with actually having a life outside of said job. And part of that outside life is getting back to writing! I think my break from everything writing-related was nice, because I remembered why I started to come up with stories and characters in the first place.
This past year has been quite the roller coaster and I think I lost sight of a lot of things that are important to me. Thankfully life has a way of smacking you in the face and reminding you about what matters most.
I'm going to focus a bit more on the two stories I've started. One is a YA High Fantasy that has a pretty epic unreliable narrator and will require an Ocean's 11-esque amount of planning, if you catch my drift. ;D
The other is...hmm, how do I describe this? I suppose it's a YA Contemp with quite a bit of magical realism. I'll just leave the first page at the bottom of this post and let you draw your own conclusions about what's happening (10 points to your Hogwarts House if you get it right!).
2014 has been a challenging year so far, but it's also let me learn a lot about myself. I can't wait to see what else happens, and to tackle this undoubtedly eventful year with some awesome people (and hey, if you're reading this, you count as one of them!).
Happy 2014, y'all! Let's do this thing!
First page time what what?!?
I’ve gotta be dead. Or in hell. That’s the only reasonable explanation for why I’m listening to this perpetual blonde stereotype drone on and on about how her Dad started her stupid pill addiction.
Well, I guess that’s not fair. Her addiction isn’t stupid. She is.
If I have to sit through five more minutes of, “My Dad was a psycho, he locked me up in the attic, and the only other thing in there was an exercise bike,” I swear, I’m gonna set this whole place on fire.
So what if I actually end up in Juvie this time? It’ll be a whole lot better than this pathetic excuse for a school. And this damn “sharing group.”
The blonde nightmare bites her lower lip again, shaking in her seat. “And I didn’t have anything else to do, so most of the day I just used the exercise bike. And, it’s like, no matter how fast I pedaled, I just couldn’t get away—”
“Because those bikes are stationary,” I spit out.
“Mal,” our bottle-of-sunshine group therapist chides, “you’ll have your turn in a few moments. Right now it’s Rory’s time.”
Rory, Little Miss Exercise Bike herself, gives me what might be her version of a death glare. I slide farther down into my chair. “Sorry, princess. Go ahead,” I say, while mimicking a very strange sit-bow.
Ms. Therapist shoots me a look, but I’m not apologizing for calling Rory a princess. She sure as hell acts like one all the time.