Wednesday WIP: Girl in Motion (book formerly known as Cheesy)

Chelsea Reed's dad signs her up for Powder Puff football, even though he knows she's been playing with, and wants to continue playing with the boys at her high school. Little does he know, much of her desire to play football stems from her estranged relationship with him and her longing to strengthen their relationship. 
 

The rest of the week was like time standing still because my first football game caused me 

anxiety. I tossed and turned the night before, barely getting any sleep. In the morning, I trudged down to the kitchen. My dad sat at the kitchen table, reading the paper.

“I need coffee,” I said to no one in particular.

     He peeked at me over the top of his newspaper like I was crazy and said, “Coffee?  You’re a little young for coffee aren’t you?”

 “You are aware that high school kids pretty much live on coffee, pizza, chips, and gum, right?”

     “Hmph,” he said. Seriously, do people really say hmph?

     I poured a cup of coffee, leaving enough room for about half a cup of creamer. I hated the taste of regular coffee. I preferred Starbucks, but I needed the jolt and my only option was the slop in Dad's coffee pot. While I drank my coffee I made myself a breakfast full of good carbs and went and got my uniform on.

     My stomach fluttered, and not in the good way, like when Tommy said nice things to me, but in the bad way like when I’m about to throw up. I sat down on my bed and took a few deep breaths. I pulled on my socks, put my hair in a ponytail, and grabbed my cleats.

     As I walked toward the garage, I stopped at the kitchen table where my dad still sat. I stood for a moment which caught his attention. He glanced up from his paper and said, “What is it?”

     “Um—” I couldn’t ask, knowing the answer would disappoint me.

     “Well, what is it?”

     I stared him square in the eyes and asked, “Are you coming to my game?”

     His gaze immediately shifted back to his newspaper. “I’ve got a lot of work to do.”

     “Oh, okay.” I admit, even though I knew what the answer would be, it still  disappointed me. I mean, he signed me up for the stupid team with their stupid ugly players and dumb skirts and he didn't even plan to see me play?

Changing gears and writing about tornado debris

After prodding from a couple people, I'm going to write the story about the journal that travels 50 miles via tornado and ends up in a teenage boy's yard. I've been wanting to write it for two years any way and it has stuck in my head all this time, so while I'm getting Dissected off the ground, revising (probably run football book which still needs a new title through autocrit), I will write this story. It's a long time coming and my friend Gae says she will steal the idea if I don't write it now. :)

I will tell more of the background of where I got the idea. After the 2011 tornadoes that blasted through Virginia, Mississippi, Arkansas, Alabama, etc, there was a news report about a man who was picking up debris in his yard, only to find a tattered piece of a pay stub, or something similar (can't remember exactly).

He had enough information from the torn paper to find it's owner. That piece of paper had traveled 100 miles. The man contacted the family at the other end, I believe it was a couple with two daughters. They had lost just about everything. The man ended up helping them pick up the pieces a bit, sending clothing, toys, and such to help them out.

The idea of finding a piece of someones life in another's front yard fascinates me. What if it was

something more than just a pay stub. A personal glimpse into their life. So the idea of sending a tattered journal came to mind and letting this boy, who maybe doesn't care too much about the people and the world around him, find it, and letting him read it, and for once in his life, become involved in something, become attached to it, care about it, and when he thinks he's going to lose it, want to do something about it.

That's it. Working title, A Tattered Life. May change it down the road. We'll see.

Happy Friday everyone. Pray for those in Oklahoma. Remember Zach Sobiech. If you have a three day weekend, enjoy every minute of it.

Friday Scribbles

Pandora song on queue: Runaway by Yeah Yeah Yeahs (Postal Service station)

No book or Netflix of the week, as I've had no time to watch or read anything. First time I've skipped. Oh well.

Quote of the week: “When we think of the past it's the beautiful things we pick out. We want to believe it was all like that." Margaret Atwood, The Handmaid's Tale

Wednesday WIP

How about...hmmm, no idea. I don't have anything with me. Maybe I'll dig out something old, or write something of the cuff that I've had in my head for while.  BRB...

You know what's weird, I was just thinking about this WIP the other day. I've not written much on it, but the idea was conceived in the aftermath of the tornadoes that barreled through Alabama, Arkansas, Georgia, Mississippi, Tennessee, and Virginia two years ago. I'd read a newspaper clipping about some debris that traveled 100 miles and came up with a story idea. The premise is a journal that flies 50 miles to the front yard of a teenage boy. He reads it and gets involved in the writer's life only to find that she eventually wants to kill herself. So, he wants to find her to stop her. Anyway, I'd lost the beginning of that 1st draft, then remembered I'd posted it here a while back, so I'm posting it again. It's the first entry of that journal. Here ya go.

March 18, 2011 

I’m tired.  Tired of living in this sardine can of a home with its lack of windows, torn curtains, and the smell of dog piss emanating throughout.  I’m tired of going through the motions as daughter, sister, and friend when I feel like nothing more than a speck of dust on a window pane ready to be wiped clean away.  I’m tired of the snobs and flakes and posers at school who think they’re either better than you, smarter than you, or more pathetic than you and take pride in it.  When did we come to strive for depression.  The Emo boy and girls with their dark makeup and their skinny jeans brood in the hallways acting as if their blue-collar lives are pure hell while they listen to their iPods, play on their Xboxes, and talk on their cell phones.

They don’t know what it truly is to ache.  What it’s like to watch your dad walk out the door and never come back.  To watch your mom spend every waking moment with a drink in one hand and a cigarette in the other.  To be the sole provider for your family, the mother to your sister.  To be mocked and bullied at school because of it all.

And this journal, and the art, it’s not enough anymore.  I can’t do it.  I’m ready to free fall from life, to plunge into the unknown.

I’m ready to let death take me away from this place.  I don’t care what’s waiting for me on the other side.  It has to be better than this . . .

WIP Wednesday: Triggered

This is the new title of the novel I once called Lockdown. I can thank J. Anderson Coats for that. I wrote this book a few years back, in fact, I think I wrote it for NaNoWriMo 2009, so it's rough, really rough. I've decided to do a major overhaul on it and perhaps put it out as my next indie project after Dissected. We'll see. Anyway, here's a snippet, keep in mind, it's rough. Setting the scene, it's a book about a school shooting, these kids are on their bus on the way to school.

Cameron, a junior, was absolutely gorgeous.  His skin was like dark chocolate and he had these bright penetrating hazel eyes.  With a tall, muscular, lean body, he was a perfect fit on the basketball team.  A ready made star.  Only he didn’t play basketball, he played the drums.  Instead of being on the court, he was in the stands, in my opinion, a likeable choice.  He seemed like a cool guy, friendly with everyone, always cracking jokes and acting goofy.   He and Brady were best friends.  He sat with Kimberly across from Brady and Kat.  Cameron and Kimberly’s sister were a couple, another thing for her to be jealous of.

     “Hey Brady,” Cameron said.

     “Yeah.”

     “Why do men find it difficult to make eye contact?”

     “I don’t know, why?”

     “Because tits don't have eyes.”  Brady just shook his head.  He probably wanted to laugh, but dared not with Kat sitting right next to him. Cameron laughed at his own joke; a few giggles broke out throughout the bus.  “I have another one.  What did the blonde say when she opened the box of Cheerios?”

     Kat, being a blonde, shot Cameron a dirty look.  “I don’t know, what did she say,” Brady asked.

     “Oh look! Doughnut seeds!"  Cameron again laughed like a lunatic.

     “Cameron,” Kat said.

     “Uh-oh, I’m in trouble, huh,” Cameron said.

     “Kat ignored the question, “Why are blonde jokes always so short?”

     “I don’t know, why,” Cameron asked.

     “So guys can remember them.”

     “That’s a good one.”

     “ You know the problem with most men, Cameron?”

     “No, what?”

     “The problem is they’re assholes.  The problem with most women is that they put up with those assholes.  Cher said that.” 

     “Ooh, Cher’s smart.  You got served,” Kimberly said to Cameron.

     “So I did.  But who’s Cher?” 

     “You’re not serious,” Kat said.

     “What?”

     They all laughed together, happy little group.

     So many of the kids on the bus don’t even seem real, like they are imitations of one another, plastic and trying to be something other than what is real, a character in the teen movie of the week, a stereotype, a caricature of who they’re trying to portray.  In some ways, I suppose it’s expected, on other ways, it’s just pathetic.

     The bus driver closed the doors and began rolling down the street.  Angel was missing, Cameron’s girlfriend, Kimberly’s little sister.  She was my favorite to watch because she moved with this smooth elegance you only see on catwalks.  In fact, it was smoother than that even; it’s as if she glided.  She was beautiful enough to walk down a catwalk one day, with her long shiny black hair, her flawless brown skin, her deep brown eyes, and tall, slender frame.  Her name was fitting, as she was not only beautiful, but also soulful and kind.  If I were to have a friend, I’d want it to be Angel.   At first I was sad not to have seen her that day, but realized soon enough, she was one of the lucky ones.

    

Wednesday Wip: Revelation: Book One of the Divinity Chronicles

Here's a bit from the dystopian YA series I'm working on, The Divinity Chronicles. Let me know what you think.

The dirty white bus with the black bold letters that spell out INFIDELS, waits at the curb as it does every week day, to drive us across town to neighborhoods like the ones in which we used to live, to take us to school. You’d think the Deities would practice segregation to keep us away from their children and those of their precious Disciples and Priests, but with us all under the same roof, they think it easier to convert us. Brainwash, more like it. They’ve not had a great success rate yet.

We climb on the bus with all the other children of Infidels and head to W1-6 HS, which stands for the West Zone, Sector 1, Division 6, High School. Mary takes two packs of tin foil out of her messenger bag, more than likely leftovers from the previous night’s dinner. She opens the window as we cross the Incendia Bridge, and tosses the packages over.

 I peer down to watch the scrambling of the Radicals, those who not only oppose the Deities, but insist on continuing to worship their old gods, be them Christian, Hindu, Muslim, whatever. They’ve banded together to stay alive. Committing treason in the eyes of the Deities, if they’re caught it’s punishable by death. As citizens of the new theocracy, or theocrazy as I like to call it, we are bound to report any sighting of Radicals, but we don’t. The idea of being persecuted for believing in something is archaic. I don’t blame them for sticking to their ideologies, I’m sure it offers them some kind of hope for the future.

We pull up to the curb of the school and file out like lemmings to their death, which is what it feels like when you have physical education first period.  If anything should be outlawed, it should be forcing us to do jumping jacks and climb ropes at seven o’clock in the morning.

What comes next...

My debut year is over. Now what? Things haven't exactly worked out like I'd hoped. I'd hoped to have another book deal by now, but instead I find myself querying agents, continuing to revise manuscripts, and struggling to finish the current work in progress.

So, how am I going to make things work? Well, I'm waiting to hear back from one agent. Once I hear from her, I will decide what to do with Dissected. The ABNA contest is coming up in a couple weeks and if she rejects me by then, I think I'll enter that in the contest. If I don't hear from her by then, I'll enter An Unbalanced Line, which I'm currently revising.

Also...I told myself that if I didn't find an agent by the end of the year, I would self publish. I still want to do that, but I may wait until after the Amazon contest -  see how far I get there. I think it is inevitable that I do it though. I think I've said before, I can't imagine waiting another two years for a book to be traditionally published. People who liked Never Eighteen will be saying, "Megan who?" by then.

That's where I'm at.
Wait to hear from agent
Enter ABNA
Finish WIP
Self publish

What do you think?

The Next Big Thing Blog Hop

Last week, talented and funny author Allison Dixon talked about her work in progress, Strings, as part of a little "blog hop" tour. She then tagged five other authors. Yours truly being one of them, to do the same.

The Rules:

Answer these ten questions about your current WIP (Work In Progress) on your blog

Tag five other writers/bloggers and add their links so we can hop over and meet them.

Okay, I'm going with Helen Landalf, who I met through the Elevensies, my fellow 2k12er,  J. Anderson Coats, my co-prezzie for the Class of 2k12 Caroline Starr Rose, a friend I met a few years ago through the Amazon Breakthrough Novel Award Contest Hart Johnson
and, hmmmmm...how about another fellow 2k12er who was just recently release, Kimberly Sabatini. Okay ladies. Bring it.

Ten Interview Questions for The Next Big Thing:

What is the working title of your book?

I wasn't sure which one to talk about because you know, I have about a million manuscripts started, but I decided to go ahead and talk about the Revelations: Book One of The Divinity Chronicles.


Where did the idea come from for the book?
It's a combination of things. I'm actually take the first books I wrote, A superhero series, and morphing them into this dystopian series. So, it's kind of the same story but not. The characters are the same, but the story has become older and darker.

What genre does your book fall under?
Young adult dystopian fantasy.

Which actors would you choose to play your characters in a movie rendition?
This is hard, something I've not really thought of for this book. Hmmm,

Danica: India Eisley

Mary: Jennifer Lawrence

Rachel: Chloe Moretz

Oliver: Garen Boyajian

 

Ian: William Mosely

Hazzard: Kodi Smi-McPhee

The Protector: Jeffrey Dean Morgan

What is the one-sentence synopsis of your book?
Oh good lord, I mentioned this was going to be a trilogy, right? Hmmm

After a bloody civil war between Paranormals and humans leaves her country in turmoil, one girl, living toward the bottom of the new caste system, finds she may be the key to bringing the Paranormals to their knees and peace back to her iniquitous nation.

Will your book be self-published or represented by an agency?
I'd love to have this book published traditionally, but I'm not afraid to go the self published route if necessary.

How long did it take you to write the first draft of your manuscript?
Work In Progress means Still In Progress. The original manuscript took about 6 months I think. This one will take more I'm sure. It's on the back burner until I finish a revisions of an other book, but I'm definitely getting back to it soon.

What other books would you compare this story to within your genre?
Hmmm, not really sure. I've not really seen one like it. There are aspects of it I didn't give away in the summary. Not sure it's comparable, at least not to something I've seen before.
Who or What inspired you to write this book?
Originally it was my girls. I wanted to write a story with them as a couple of the characters. I've kept them in this version. They were friends in the original, I've made them sisters in this one, more to real life. I've changed their personalities to fit who they've become rather than to who they were when I first wrote the book, which was when they were very little. It's going to be very fun to write.
What else about your book might pique the reader’s interest?
It's kind of a superhero book. There's also a bit of a take on combing church and state, though in a very fantastical way. There will be adventure, intrigue, romance, everything. :)