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?

Indie Publishing: Moving Forward

Yesterday I decided to order a little swag. Some of my fellow writers have called me the queen of Never Eighteen came out I may have gone a little overboard, but I wanted to test out different types of swag to see what people liked. The favorites are bookmarks, buttons, stickers, and silicone wristbands, so those are what I'm sticking with this time. I also want to buy postcards to send out to schools, libraries and bookstores.
swag. When

So, yesterday's orders consisted of bookmarks and wristbands in black, red, and white swirl that say Dissected on one side and have my website on the other side.

My book is also officially being formatted, Lori posted about it on Facebook yesterday, SQUEE!! Once I get that back I have a little more editing to do on it. Then I upload to Createspace to create my book, look into getting my bar codes, set my price and figure out how to set up distribution.

Things are coming together. I'm hoping my release date of July 16th is still realistic. Okay, that is all. Have a great Tuesday.

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 . . .

I went to Vegas

And as I was having a great time in Vegas , people were dying in a tornado in Oklahoma.

And while I was having a great time in Vegas, a 18 year old boy succumbed to cancer.

But it's things like this that brought me to Vegas in the first place. I wrote a book last year. It was about a boy, much like the boy, Zach Sobiech, who died of cancer yesterday. It was about a boy who wanted to say goodbye. A boy who wanted to make a difference, even if it was a small one, before his time on earth was over. A boy who wanted to remind people that you only get once chance to live your life, and that you shouldn't take it for granted.

Though it was my message, I didn't live up to it, not until recently at least. But then people in my life started getting cancer. And people in my life started dying.

So I started living.

I'm publishing a book.

I'm kickboxing.

I'm getting out of my comfort zone.

Then a guy I'd never met asked me to go to Vegas and I said yes. 

Don't get me wrong. I've known him virtually for a while now, and I insisted we meet in person before  I actually made a final decision. So we hung out a couple times then I decided to go.

I went because at any moment I could take my last breath and leave this world without ever having seen Las Vegas and that would have been sad.

We continued to hang out until we went and we got along great and had a lot of fun together and we had a blast in Vegas, all while people lost their lives in different parts of the country.

But I don't think they'd mind much because we were taking advantage of the life that was given to us.

I hope when I die people are out there living life to the fullest. I know when I leave this place people will mourn my death, but I hope they don't do it for long. I hope they move on quickly and find solace in the memories they have of me whether I was their daughter, sister, mother or friend.

 I hope  they remember me when my spirit soared and how I tried to live like at any moment I could
get hit by a bus, or a piano could fall on my head or we could finally get that huge earthquake they've been promising for years and my world could come crumbling down around me, taking me with it.

But until that happens, I went to Vegas, and I know Zach Sobiech had huge Vegas moments, and I hope most of those who perished in Oklahoma had their Vegas moments.

Make sure you don't forget to take your Vegas moments. One day, you may not have the chance.

Love and Life,

Megan