Today I took my last exam here in London, the one for which I have been studying about five hours a day, every day for the last month. In the last few days before the actual exams, I studied less and procrastinated more, mostly with my biggest procrastination tool, writing. I'm telling you, those hours during which I was supposed to be studying were hours that I made some serious progress with TOSOL. I finished writing a scene that should have been very simple; it was just a conversation, not much moving around and definitely no combat (just that should have made me breathe easier.) But as easy as it seemed, it's a scene that's given me the most trouble of late. I can't decide if it's because it really was difficult or my inner critic was in good form. Either way, it took me a good week and a half to write the 4000+ word scene, writing and deleting sentences over and over again. However, now that's it over, I'm pretty satisfied. While there isn't much action, there's a lot of information given, tension built, and questions asked... or at least I hope so.
I had hoped to get the fourth draft to my two readers by the beginning of June, but I don't think that's going to happen. I have almost five days before my family arrives in England (!!!), and of course I'll be spending my time with them until we leave on the twelfth. Besides all of those excuse-y reasons, there's still a ridiculous amount of work to be done on this draft. I've already made a ton of changes, all of which I'm happy with, but there are other changes, some huge, some tiny but still significant, that need to be made before I can even think of sending them off. Those will take serious time to accomplish in a way that won't make me cringe as I hit the 'send' button on those e-mails to my readers.
In other news, I know I haven't been doing WIP Wednesday for, well, a really long time. This is for a few reasons. The first is that I learned that posting on the internet is technically using your first publishing rights, which can hurt you if you want to get that work published in the future. Since both of my current WIPs are two that I want to publish, I've decided against posting sections from those. (If anyone knows differently about the publishing rights thing, please correct me.) The second reason is a little more vain: through my England blog, a few people I actually know have discovered this blog. *waves to people I know* *hides* I created this blog under the safety of being anonymous (though I suspect at least one person I know discovered it nearly a year ago), and in real life, I'm very shy about my writing. This has also made me a bit reluctant to post my work. (Note to said people: it's not you. It's me. I'm ridiculously shy.) It's not that I'll never do WIP Wednesday again... I just don't know when it will be back.
Until my family gets here, I am free to write as much as I want, so I think I'll visit a cafe or two over the next five days. I write so much better in a cafe environment, and hopefully I'll get a lot of work done.
Showing posts with label WIP Wednesday. Show all posts
Showing posts with label WIP Wednesday. Show all posts
Thursday, May 26, 2011
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
WIP Wednesday
I know I've kinda been sucking at these lately, but I have a WIP excerpt today! This is a bit of a novel that I wrote this evening, partly on the tube and partly sitting on a bench outside the tube. It hasn't been edited at all, so keep that in mind. Also, some background: Eliza is fifteen and has been living in the hospital since she was twelve, being treated for a disease that kills the infected within three years, as there is no cure.
"How have you been feeling lately?" Dr. Trescott asked.
Eliza thought back over the last week, the sudden, constant nausea that had been lurking since the Saturday before. "Not as well as usual. Kind of sick," she reported.
The doctor nodded as he jotted a note in her file. "Yes, we expected as much."
"What do you mean?"
"Last week, we took you off the C23, which is one of your usual medications. Its absence most likely the cause of any nausea you're feeling."
"Why did you take me off of it?" Eliza inquired.
"We wanted to see how your body would react."
"Why?"
"Because at this point, it's... well, we just need to experiment at this point in the game."
Eliza felt the burn of annoyance flar inside her. "Experiment? What does that mean?" Eliza had never spoken so sharply to Dr. Trescott, and he looked surprised.
"It means that- that we don't have-" he faltered, and Eliza didn't want to acknowledge the fear that threatened to overtake her.
"You don't know, do you? You don't know how to cure me. None of you- you don't have a clue." She got up from her chair and strode to the other side of the room, away from the window. She couldn't look at the doctor because his eyes would confirm it. Eliza hadn't realised until this moment that she had always had a little bit of hope, a bright thought that people went into a hospital to be cured. Somehow, she'd always managed to ignore the other reality, that the were people who went into these places and stayed there for a long time, people who never got well and who died there. People like her.
She was pacing now, pacing in tight circles as far as she could get from the window and the doctor and the reality of the situation.
"Eliza?" Dr. Trescott said softly through the intercom. Eliza stopped pacing, but she didn't answer him. "Eliza, please look at me."
"No." She was shaking, though with anger or fear, she didn't know. "What has all of this been for, then?" she demanded. "If none of this works, if it was never going to work, why couldn't you let me live my life outside of here?"
"You know why," Dr. Trescott said with irritating patience. "You're highly contagious. We can't take the risk."
"But even in my own house!" Eliza cried. "A place that's not a hospital. A place that's not so... blank. There's no life here!"
"Your parents would have had to live with you wearing protective suits." Dr.Trescott's voice was still calm. "They may have had to quit their jobs. Is that what you would have wanted?"
"I don't know!" Eliza shouted. "I don't know what I would have wanted then or what would have happened by now, but I- I want to get out of here. If I'm going to die, what's the point? What's the point of this?" She gestured with the arm bearing the IV bracelet.
"We're using it to help you-"
"But you're not! It's not helping me. It's worthless!" She tugged at it in frustration, and to her surprise, the IV came out, slid right out of her arm and dangled there by the tubes that wrapped up her forearm and bicep. The sight of this made Eliza cry harder, though she hadn't realised she'd been crying in the first place.
"Eliza, listen to me." Dr. Trescott's voice was kind. "We're trying as hard as we can. You've known from the beginning that a cure was a goal, not a guarantee. Giving you medication is the best we can do today, but we don't know what miracle might present itself tomorrow. Don't give up on us yet, because we haven't given up on you."
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
WIP Wednesday
I can't believe it's Wednesday again... it's true that time flies when you're having fun- I love it here in England. Unfortunately, this month won't be too fun- I have so many essays due the last week of term, and for one of my theatre classes, we have just one more week before we have to be ready to tech our own original piece of theatre using a ton of different elements. Eek!
But anyway, here are some more random snippets from TOSOL:
Page 63, line 26: I’m joking, but Dr. Philips says, “Yes, a bit like that.” He presses a button on the side of the goggles and puts them into my hands.
Page 135, line 24: I don't nod, just take a steadying breath, but he seems to take this as affirmation.
Page 35, line 5: I have no idea how she knows about Aaron, but I don’t ask her; before I know it, I’ll be in the middle of a game of Never Have I Ever.
Page 26, line 23: I have every intention of following her to the door and eavesdrop, but a board under my feet creaks and when Julie sees me, she gives me a “don’t even think about it” look.
Page 156, line 2: But my mother immediately draws closer to my father, and Aunt Kelly and Julie sit stock still, their faces pale.
Page 153, line 17: "All I can guess is that perhaps because you are not yet the official keeper, the fact that they burned down on your watch has no lasting effect."
Page 13, line 15: Next to him stands a boy of about twelve, who I assume is his brother and who is wearing one of those ridiculous hats that kids seem to think are socially acceptable.
I'm getting very excited for Script Frenzy, but I've had to stop my planning to get these ridiculous essays done. I'm a bit worried that my idea is juvenile, but what better way to find out than writing it in a month? Plus, I really want to write it, so whatever it turns out to be, it'll be worth it, even if I do nothing with it :)
But anyway, here are some more random snippets from TOSOL:
Page 63, line 26: I’m joking, but Dr. Philips says, “Yes, a bit like that.” He presses a button on the side of the goggles and puts them into my hands.
Page 135, line 24: I don't nod, just take a steadying breath, but he seems to take this as affirmation.
Page 35, line 5: I have no idea how she knows about Aaron, but I don’t ask her; before I know it, I’ll be in the middle of a game of Never Have I Ever.
Page 26, line 23: I have every intention of following her to the door and eavesdrop, but a board under my feet creaks and when Julie sees me, she gives me a “don’t even think about it” look.
Page 156, line 2: But my mother immediately draws closer to my father, and Aunt Kelly and Julie sit stock still, their faces pale.
Page 153, line 17: "All I can guess is that perhaps because you are not yet the official keeper, the fact that they burned down on your watch has no lasting effect."
Page 13, line 15: Next to him stands a boy of about twelve, who I assume is his brother and who is wearing one of those ridiculous hats that kids seem to think are socially acceptable.
I'm getting very excited for Script Frenzy, but I've had to stop my planning to get these ridiculous essays done. I'm a bit worried that my idea is juvenile, but what better way to find out than writing it in a month? Plus, I really want to write it, so whatever it turns out to be, it'll be worth it, even if I do nothing with it :)
Friday, March 11, 2011
Extra Excerpts
The goings-on in Japan are incredibly sad (it's terrible in general, but I've got a childhood friend living there right now. She lives far enough away that I believe she's fine- she blogged about it recently, but I'm still worried.) So to get my mind off of it, I'm going to do the part of WIP Wednesday that I left out this week- line excerpts of TOSOL!
Page 127, line 27: “Good- looking, that one,” Mr. Rampart continues. “And smart, I hear. He would have been a perfect match for you."
Page 6, line 2: In my opinion, she should be less worried about the fact that Julie’s my mother’s daughter and more concerned that Julie is Julie,
Page 73, line 14: Aunt Kelly gives me a look before continuing. “There’s a reason we have to guard the lanterns at all times.”
Page 83, line 29: “Yeah. Important and interesting.”
Page 162, line 9: In the split second before I stop thinking, it occurs to me that this might be the solution I’ve been looking for my entire life.
Page 40, line 30: Synonym… can’t think of any. Now who’s the loser? “I thought, um…”
Page 78, line 1: "You just remind me so much of her," he says, and my internal alarm system immediately goes off.
Page 127, line 27: “Good- looking, that one,” Mr. Rampart continues. “And smart, I hear. He would have been a perfect match for you."
Page 6, line 2: In my opinion, she should be less worried about the fact that Julie’s my mother’s daughter and more concerned that Julie is Julie,
Page 73, line 14: Aunt Kelly gives me a look before continuing. “There’s a reason we have to guard the lanterns at all times.”
Page 83, line 29: “Yeah. Important and interesting.”
Page 162, line 9: In the split second before I stop thinking, it occurs to me that this might be the solution I’ve been looking for my entire life.
Page 40, line 30: Synonym… can’t think of any. Now who’s the loser? “I thought, um…”
Page 78, line 1: "You just remind me so much of her," he says, and my internal alarm system immediately goes off.
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
WIP Wednesday
So as I may have mentioned, I sent off my second draft of TOSOL to about five readers through the NaNoWriMo website. Two of them also gave me their novels. I have been waiting very impatiently for my manuscripts back, and finally yesterday, I got one!
I will admit to prompting my readers a bit. I sent them my novel on Christmas day, which seems like forever ago to me. I didn't write them an e-mail saying, "Uh... what's taking so long? Gimme my book!" because I realise that people have lives and amateur novels with an embarrassing amount of formatting mistakes (*blush*) are not always at the top of people's lists. But sometimes I forget that people aren't, well... me.
See, writing is my relaxation activity. While it sometimes kills me during NaNoWriMo, writing is what I do for fun. It's also my main procrastination tool. My friend and critique partner have been exchanging a lot of writing lately, and he always asks me how on earth I get his stuff back to him in two days when it takes him two months. It's not because I'm more dedicated. It's because I am a slacker. The reason I get edits back so quickly is because I'm avoiding other work and having fun editing people's writing.
So sometimes it's hard for me to remember that, while I got someone's novel back to them in two months, some people actually do what they're supposed to and leave pleasure reading for last.
Another reason I sent out feelers- last year, I sent my novel off to two people. One of them, a friend, took four or five months to get it back to me, but it was worth the wait- her in-depth edits kept me working for four or five more months. The other girl, after making sure that I got her novel back to her, promptly ignored my following attempts to contact her. I wasn't rude or annoying- I sent her two short messages over the space of about four months politely wondering if she had made any progress. She never responded. It's been over and year and I still haven't heard a thing. This bugs me because it's just rude. If you don't like my novel and can't bear to finish it- okay. Tell me that and I'll know that I need to do some serious overhauling. If you don't have time to devote to it, I completely understand. But don't ignore me. It's inconsiderate.
But anyway- I DID get one of my readers' feedback last night! She didn't give me a ton- she only edited my document grammatically/structurally, and even then marked only fourteen things. I definitely appreciated her answers to the questions I asked, things along the lines of, "Are the characters and their interactions realistic?" "s it appropriate for YA readers?" "Does the plot work as a whole?"
I was happy to hear that she really liked the book, and she definitely brought up a good question about the end, something I'd never considered. I'll have to figure that one out... it could possibly lead me to write a new ending *whimpers*
However, she asked another question about the end that, while it will involve work, made me happy- she asked why Lyddie didn't think about Aaron, her boyfriend (for awhile anyway), right before she died. This pleased me because that meant I did my job in making Aaron important to her, and not in a "I just really always need a boyfriend" way, but in a true, caring for him way. I had actually made sure Lyddie didn't mention him at the end because I was afraid she'd seem too focused on him and not her family, but I like that he was thought of by the reader, and I may change this bit, knowing that it won't garner an eye roll from the reader.
I do wish I had gotten a bit more feedback. Grammatical/formatting corrections are great, but I'd corrected about 95% of the ones she marked on my own, and her other comments were a cumulative few sentences. But it IS feedback, and more than I had earlier on Sunday, so I should probably shut up :p
Now I'm off to Derby, England, which is many, many hours away by bus.
I will admit to prompting my readers a bit. I sent them my novel on Christmas day, which seems like forever ago to me. I didn't write them an e-mail saying, "Uh... what's taking so long? Gimme my book!" because I realise that people have lives and amateur novels with an embarrassing amount of formatting mistakes (*blush*) are not always at the top of people's lists. But sometimes I forget that people aren't, well... me.
See, writing is my relaxation activity. While it sometimes kills me during NaNoWriMo, writing is what I do for fun. It's also my main procrastination tool. My friend and critique partner have been exchanging a lot of writing lately, and he always asks me how on earth I get his stuff back to him in two days when it takes him two months. It's not because I'm more dedicated. It's because I am a slacker. The reason I get edits back so quickly is because I'm avoiding other work and having fun editing people's writing.
So sometimes it's hard for me to remember that, while I got someone's novel back to them in two months, some people actually do what they're supposed to and leave pleasure reading for last.
Another reason I sent out feelers- last year, I sent my novel off to two people. One of them, a friend, took four or five months to get it back to me, but it was worth the wait- her in-depth edits kept me working for four or five more months. The other girl, after making sure that I got her novel back to her, promptly ignored my following attempts to contact her. I wasn't rude or annoying- I sent her two short messages over the space of about four months politely wondering if she had made any progress. She never responded. It's been over and year and I still haven't heard a thing. This bugs me because it's just rude. If you don't like my novel and can't bear to finish it- okay. Tell me that and I'll know that I need to do some serious overhauling. If you don't have time to devote to it, I completely understand. But don't ignore me. It's inconsiderate.
But anyway- I DID get one of my readers' feedback last night! She didn't give me a ton- she only edited my document grammatically/structurally, and even then marked only fourteen things. I definitely appreciated her answers to the questions I asked, things along the lines of, "Are the characters and their interactions realistic?" "s it appropriate for YA readers?" "Does the plot work as a whole?"
I was happy to hear that she really liked the book, and she definitely brought up a good question about the end, something I'd never considered. I'll have to figure that one out... it could possibly lead me to write a new ending *whimpers*
However, she asked another question about the end that, while it will involve work, made me happy- she asked why Lyddie didn't think about Aaron, her boyfriend (for awhile anyway), right before she died. This pleased me because that meant I did my job in making Aaron important to her, and not in a "I just really always need a boyfriend" way, but in a true, caring for him way. I had actually made sure Lyddie didn't mention him at the end because I was afraid she'd seem too focused on him and not her family, but I like that he was thought of by the reader, and I may change this bit, knowing that it won't garner an eye roll from the reader.
I do wish I had gotten a bit more feedback. Grammatical/formatting corrections are great, but I'd corrected about 95% of the ones she marked on my own, and her other comments were a cumulative few sentences. But it IS feedback, and more than I had earlier on Sunday, so I should probably shut up :p
Now I'm off to Derby, England, which is many, many hours away by bus.
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
The Return of WIP Wednesday!
So while I haven't been posting anything for WIP Wednesday for I'm-afraid-to-check-and-see-how-long, I have been writing. A lot. I've been editing The Other Side of Light as well as doing some major revisions on my play.
I've also come across the information that if you post your novel online, it can take away your first publication rights and therefore make you less attractive to publishers. While this isn't a risk for me at the moment- The Other Side of Light is my first piece of writing that I've considered getting published and I haven't posted enough of it here to make it a risk- I've decided not to post excerpts from it here. However, for this week, I decided to do something that my favorite author, Libba Bray, did with her last book in the Gemma Doyle Trilogy: opened the book, pointed to a line, and posted that as a teaser. While I don't have an actual book, I do have a word document and access to a random numbers generator, so here are the results of that:
Pg. 127, line 24: “He would have been a perfect match for you. But where is he now?”
Pg. 118, line 26: She walks the few steps to her desk, pulls out a drawer, and removes her wallet, holding it out it my direction. “Here.”
Pg. 72, line 14: This is the first I’ve heard of anyone besides my family being involved in this business. “Who are ‘the ones we’re working against’?”
Pg. 149, line 19: “Oh,” Aunt Kelly says. “Yes.” She guides me inside, never taking her eyes off of my mother.
Pg. 93, line 4: Finally, when I’m outside the school a few days later, digging in my bag for my cell phone and I hear, “Hey.” Oh, no. It’s Aaron. I knew he would find me eventually, and I’ve been trying to rehearse the conversation I need to have with him.
Pg. 13, line 13: The doorbell rings as I’m halfway through my first book. I have no idea who it could be. I mark my place and I open the door. Once I see who’s on the other side, I freeze. Because standing there is Aaron Tves, the guy I’ve had a crush on for the past five months. He is beautiful and smart and well spoken and he is standing on my porch.
:)
I've also come across the information that if you post your novel online, it can take away your first publication rights and therefore make you less attractive to publishers. While this isn't a risk for me at the moment- The Other Side of Light is my first piece of writing that I've considered getting published and I haven't posted enough of it here to make it a risk- I've decided not to post excerpts from it here. However, for this week, I decided to do something that my favorite author, Libba Bray, did with her last book in the Gemma Doyle Trilogy: opened the book, pointed to a line, and posted that as a teaser. While I don't have an actual book, I do have a word document and access to a random numbers generator, so here are the results of that:
Pg. 127, line 24: “He would have been a perfect match for you. But where is he now?”
Pg. 118, line 26: She walks the few steps to her desk, pulls out a drawer, and removes her wallet, holding it out it my direction. “Here.”
Pg. 72, line 14: This is the first I’ve heard of anyone besides my family being involved in this business. “Who are ‘the ones we’re working against’?”
Pg. 149, line 19: “Oh,” Aunt Kelly says. “Yes.” She guides me inside, never taking her eyes off of my mother.
Pg. 93, line 4: Finally, when I’m outside the school a few days later, digging in my bag for my cell phone and I hear, “Hey.” Oh, no. It’s Aaron. I knew he would find me eventually, and I’ve been trying to rehearse the conversation I need to have with him.
Pg. 13, line 13: The doorbell rings as I’m halfway through my first book. I have no idea who it could be. I mark my place and I open the door. Once I see who’s on the other side, I freeze. Because standing there is Aaron Tves, the guy I’ve had a crush on for the past five months. He is beautiful and smart and well spoken and he is standing on my porch.
:)
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
WIP Wednesday
A very late post (for me here in England anyway... it's technically not Wednesday anymore), but I was occupied all day today celebrating my twenty-first birthday! But here's some Light for you, a scene I just wrote on Monday. Just before this, Lyddie has agreed to go out with Aaron, a boy she's had a crush on for awhile, but doesn't get to tell anyone her good news, because when she gets home, she finds that her sister's engagement has been broken off for seemingly no reason.
That night, Dad returns to work and we can’t coax Julie from her room, so it’s just Aunt Kelly and me for dinner. She whips up some chicken and pasta and we settle down at the table together. There’s no automatic conversation like there usually would be- the events of the day have made us uncomfortable. It feels like we should talk about Julie’s predicament or nothing at all. After a long silence, Aunt Kelly elects the former.
“Do you know how she’s doing?” she asks, keeping her voice low, as though Julie could hear her upstairs.
I shake my head. “No; she hasn’t come out of her room at all.”
Aunt Kelly spears a piece of pasta with her fork. “Well, I guess we just need to give her time. She and Jake may not have been together for very long, but I really do think they loved each other.”
“Then why did he break it off?” I exclaim, surprised at the anger I feel on my sister’s behalf.
“I don’t know. It’s hard to explain matters of the heart.” My aunt sees me roll my eyes and adds, “No, truly. Sometimes love makes people do crazy things, even to the point of calling off a relationship. You may not understand that now, but you will one day.”
I wonder if I should tell her about Aaron- in the commotion over Julie, I didn’t have the chance to tell anyone. Perhaps, since we’re on the subject of relationships, I could ask Aunt Kelly if it’s even worth it to go on with him. But no, I decide. Now is not the time.
Aunt Kelly’s staring off into space, looking deep in thought, and something in her gaze makes me ask, “Did you ever think you would get married?”
My aunt’s eyes instantly come back into focus and she blinks at me in surprise. “Wh-what makes you ask that?” she questions.
I shrug. “Just wondering. I mean, even though we’re not allowed to get married and everything, that doesn’t stop us from wanting to…” I trail off, hoping she’ll finish the thought for me.
“Well…” Aunt Kelly begins haltingly. “I guess… yes. I did think I would at one point.”
I’m intrigued. While I never doubted that someone would want to marry my aunt- she’s smart and certainly pretty enough for someone to go after her- I’ve never before considered that she may have had a relationship before becoming Keeper. “So what happened?”
“What do you mean, what happened?”
“Well, you’re like me- you weren’t always supposed to be the Keeper. You were, what, twenty-eight when you got the job, right? You can’t tell me that you did even date anyone, at least.”
Aunt Kelly lets out a long, loaded sigh and takes a moment before responding. “Yes,” she answers finally. “I was actually in a rather serious relationship in the months before I took over for your mother.”
“Yes?” I prompt.
She twists her mouth to the side, as if considering just how much she wants to tell me. “Well, around the same time that your mother started keeping, I met a guy and we started seeing each other. It was… it was great. I’d never been so happy while dating someone. He was a wonderful man and we loved each other and best of all, he understood about the lanterns.”
“But how?” I inquire. “Outsiders can't know about them, especially a man!”
“It’s difficult to explain,” Aunt Kelly says. “He had obligations of his own, so he didn’t think it was weird that I had a sister who stayed in all the time.”
“So did he understand when you said you had to take over for her?” A bubble of hope forms inside me; maybe, if I get Aunt Kelly’s permission, I can tell Aaron about the lanterns. He’d understand just like her boyfriend did.
Aunt Kelly stabs a piece of chicken. “Not exactly. Before I took over, we had been seeing each other for nearly a year and a half, and he had proposed once already. At this point, your mother was having some trouble doing everything and I told him not yet. I promised him that I did want to marry him, but I had to take care of things at home first. He seemed to understand and told me to take my time. But when it happened that I had to take over completely, I had to tell him that I couldn’t marry him, no matter how much I wanted to. And I desperately wanted to,” she says with sudden passion. But then she catches herself and, giving me a quick glance, continues with, “But there were other things that had to be done, and I had to take care of them. He was upset, but what could I do?”
I push my food around on my plate, feeling a little guilty about being one of the things that had to be done. “So…” I say hesitantly. “Is it even worth it to start something like that? To get involved with someone?”
I expect Aunt Kelly to tell me no, to say that when there is a job to be done, one should focus solely on the task at hand. But instead, she puts down her fork and looks me square in the eye. “It’s always worth it, Lyddie. Even if it doesn’t work out in the end, it’s always worth giving it a try. It teaches you about yourself, if nothing else, and there is nothing more vital to success in this job.”
I appreciate her words, but I can’t help but think that even with the affection that comes with a relationship, if I know it will have to end with a break-up, is there really a point? The last thing I want to do is lead Aaron on, or wore, hurt him because we take it too far. All these considerations make my head start to hurt again, so I finish dinner quickly and head back upstairs, where Julie’s door is still closed tightly, not even a strip of light showing at the bottom.
That night, Dad returns to work and we can’t coax Julie from her room, so it’s just Aunt Kelly and me for dinner. She whips up some chicken and pasta and we settle down at the table together. There’s no automatic conversation like there usually would be- the events of the day have made us uncomfortable. It feels like we should talk about Julie’s predicament or nothing at all. After a long silence, Aunt Kelly elects the former.
“Do you know how she’s doing?” she asks, keeping her voice low, as though Julie could hear her upstairs.
I shake my head. “No; she hasn’t come out of her room at all.”
Aunt Kelly spears a piece of pasta with her fork. “Well, I guess we just need to give her time. She and Jake may not have been together for very long, but I really do think they loved each other.”
“Then why did he break it off?” I exclaim, surprised at the anger I feel on my sister’s behalf.
“I don’t know. It’s hard to explain matters of the heart.” My aunt sees me roll my eyes and adds, “No, truly. Sometimes love makes people do crazy things, even to the point of calling off a relationship. You may not understand that now, but you will one day.”
I wonder if I should tell her about Aaron- in the commotion over Julie, I didn’t have the chance to tell anyone. Perhaps, since we’re on the subject of relationships, I could ask Aunt Kelly if it’s even worth it to go on with him. But no, I decide. Now is not the time.
Aunt Kelly’s staring off into space, looking deep in thought, and something in her gaze makes me ask, “Did you ever think you would get married?”
My aunt’s eyes instantly come back into focus and she blinks at me in surprise. “Wh-what makes you ask that?” she questions.
I shrug. “Just wondering. I mean, even though we’re not allowed to get married and everything, that doesn’t stop us from wanting to…” I trail off, hoping she’ll finish the thought for me.
“Well…” Aunt Kelly begins haltingly. “I guess… yes. I did think I would at one point.”
I’m intrigued. While I never doubted that someone would want to marry my aunt- she’s smart and certainly pretty enough for someone to go after her- I’ve never before considered that she may have had a relationship before becoming Keeper. “So what happened?”
“What do you mean, what happened?”
“Well, you’re like me- you weren’t always supposed to be the Keeper. You were, what, twenty-eight when you got the job, right? You can’t tell me that you did even date anyone, at least.”
Aunt Kelly lets out a long, loaded sigh and takes a moment before responding. “Yes,” she answers finally. “I was actually in a rather serious relationship in the months before I took over for your mother.”
“Yes?” I prompt.
She twists her mouth to the side, as if considering just how much she wants to tell me. “Well, around the same time that your mother started keeping, I met a guy and we started seeing each other. It was… it was great. I’d never been so happy while dating someone. He was a wonderful man and we loved each other and best of all, he understood about the lanterns.”
“But how?” I inquire. “Outsiders can't know about them, especially a man!”
“It’s difficult to explain,” Aunt Kelly says. “He had obligations of his own, so he didn’t think it was weird that I had a sister who stayed in all the time.”
“So did he understand when you said you had to take over for her?” A bubble of hope forms inside me; maybe, if I get Aunt Kelly’s permission, I can tell Aaron about the lanterns. He’d understand just like her boyfriend did.
Aunt Kelly stabs a piece of chicken. “Not exactly. Before I took over, we had been seeing each other for nearly a year and a half, and he had proposed once already. At this point, your mother was having some trouble doing everything and I told him not yet. I promised him that I did want to marry him, but I had to take care of things at home first. He seemed to understand and told me to take my time. But when it happened that I had to take over completely, I had to tell him that I couldn’t marry him, no matter how much I wanted to. And I desperately wanted to,” she says with sudden passion. But then she catches herself and, giving me a quick glance, continues with, “But there were other things that had to be done, and I had to take care of them. He was upset, but what could I do?”
I push my food around on my plate, feeling a little guilty about being one of the things that had to be done. “So…” I say hesitantly. “Is it even worth it to start something like that? To get involved with someone?”
I expect Aunt Kelly to tell me no, to say that when there is a job to be done, one should focus solely on the task at hand. But instead, she puts down her fork and looks me square in the eye. “It’s always worth it, Lyddie. Even if it doesn’t work out in the end, it’s always worth giving it a try. It teaches you about yourself, if nothing else, and there is nothing more vital to success in this job.”
I appreciate her words, but I can’t help but think that even with the affection that comes with a relationship, if I know it will have to end with a break-up, is there really a point? The last thing I want to do is lead Aaron on, or wore, hurt him because we take it too far. All these considerations make my head start to hurt again, so I finish dinner quickly and head back upstairs, where Julie’s door is still closed tightly, not even a strip of light showing at the bottom.
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
WIP Wednesday
Finally! Wow, I haven't done one of these in awhile. Here ya go, from The Other Side of Light.
The next day is Saturday, and I plan to spend all of it not thinking about the application. Julie’s at work, as is Dad, and Aunt Kelly’s lantern – ing, so I’ve basically got the house all to myself. Party? I think no. Pleasure reading – yes. I settle myself in the family room with a few of my favorites, ready for a day of my kind of fun. Yes, I’m a nerd. Don’t judge.
The doorbell rings as I’m halfway through my first book. I have no idea who it could be. I mark my place and and I open the door. Once I see who’s on the other side, I freeze. Because standing there is Aaron Tves, the guy I’ve had a crush on for the past five months. He is beautiful and smart and well spoken and he is standing on my porch. It takes me a second to realise that he’s not alone. Next to him stands a boy of about twelve, who I assume is his brother.
“Hi, Lyddie,” Aaron says, and I get a little thrill because, even though we’ve never talked one on one, he knows who I am!
“Hi,” I answer. Why do I sound so ridiculously breathy?
We all stand there is silence for longer than is comfortable until the boy nudges Aaron. “Oh! Right,” Aaron jumps in.
“My brother’s selling popcorn for Boy Scouts and I – he – we were wondering if you wanted any.”
I notice that, by the boy’s feet, is a tall metal canister with some kind of design on it. “Is that it?”
Aaron follows my gaze. “Yes, that’s it. I mean, that’s the one we’re showing to everyone, just to kind of let them know how big it is and everything. You don’t actually get this one – we’d give you a new one, of course. But you can try it if you want. You want to try it?” Normally, I would say no. I actually don’t enjoy the weird taste of pre – packaged popcorn. But I’m not going to say that and break his little brother’s heart. So instead, I say, “Sure!”
Aaron reaches down and scoops up the canister, popping off the lid so I can see the sticky mess of multicolored popcorn balls inside. I really don’t want to eat this, but love means sacrifice, right? Even if the love is of the I – don’t – know – if – he – feels – the – same – way – or – if – he- even – knows – my – last – name kind.
So I say, “Wow, that looks… delicious,” reach in, and take a clump. As I’m pulling my arm out, my sleeve catches on the lip and the container tips, sending the gluey colored marbles everywhere. Some of them simply thud to the floor and stay there, but far too many roll across my shoes, all over the porch, and into the bushes.
“Shoot!” Aaron says. His brother is already trying to salvage what he can of the so – called treat and Aaron, after a quick glance at me, drops to his knees to help him. I don’t want to awkwardly stand over them, so I join them on the floor, collecting as many of the globules as I can.
We throw all we find back into the canister - I sincerely hope that they don’t intend on offering anyone else a sample – and stand as one. More awkward silence.
“So,” Aaron’s little brother finally breaks in. “Do you wanna buy some?”
“Definitely!” I exclaim with more enthusiasm than should ever be exerted over popcorn. “I’ll take one now that I see how they travel.”
What? What does that even mean? And if I don’t know, why am I laughing at this not – even – a – joke? I wish for the roof to fall in. It doesn’t.
“Great,” Aaron says, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out a pen and order sheet. As he hands them to me, our fingers brush and another thrill travels up my arm. I try to hide this by concentrating fully on filling out the form. Just as well – I wouldn’t be surprised if I spelled my name wrong. When I’m done, I hand the pen and sheet to him with extreme care. “Thanks!” his brother says happily.
“Yeah, thanks, Lyddie,” Aaron adds with an adorable smile.
“No problem! I was happy to do it!” Again with the ridiculous enthusiasm. “I can’t wait to get it!” Oh, my God. Stop talking now. Aaron will never like you in that way if he thinks you like popcorn more than him. I give them a stupid wave as they turn to leave, but I feel slightly better about my own behavior as I close the door and hear Aaron’s brother say, “Why were you acting so weird?”
I shut the door and lean against it. I feel as accomplished now as I ever have – I had an encounter with Aaron and I didn’t sound like a total moron. For the most part. Not anymore than he did, anyway. But he’s adorable and he can get away with it. Me, I need to watch myself. Deep breaths.
The next day is Saturday, and I plan to spend all of it not thinking about the application. Julie’s at work, as is Dad, and Aunt Kelly’s lantern – ing, so I’ve basically got the house all to myself. Party? I think no. Pleasure reading – yes. I settle myself in the family room with a few of my favorites, ready for a day of my kind of fun. Yes, I’m a nerd. Don’t judge.
The doorbell rings as I’m halfway through my first book. I have no idea who it could be. I mark my place and and I open the door. Once I see who’s on the other side, I freeze. Because standing there is Aaron Tves, the guy I’ve had a crush on for the past five months. He is beautiful and smart and well spoken and he is standing on my porch. It takes me a second to realise that he’s not alone. Next to him stands a boy of about twelve, who I assume is his brother.
“Hi, Lyddie,” Aaron says, and I get a little thrill because, even though we’ve never talked one on one, he knows who I am!
“Hi,” I answer. Why do I sound so ridiculously breathy?
We all stand there is silence for longer than is comfortable until the boy nudges Aaron. “Oh! Right,” Aaron jumps in.
“My brother’s selling popcorn for Boy Scouts and I – he – we were wondering if you wanted any.”
I notice that, by the boy’s feet, is a tall metal canister with some kind of design on it. “Is that it?”
Aaron follows my gaze. “Yes, that’s it. I mean, that’s the one we’re showing to everyone, just to kind of let them know how big it is and everything. You don’t actually get this one – we’d give you a new one, of course. But you can try it if you want. You want to try it?” Normally, I would say no. I actually don’t enjoy the weird taste of pre – packaged popcorn. But I’m not going to say that and break his little brother’s heart. So instead, I say, “Sure!”
Aaron reaches down and scoops up the canister, popping off the lid so I can see the sticky mess of multicolored popcorn balls inside. I really don’t want to eat this, but love means sacrifice, right? Even if the love is of the I – don’t – know – if – he – feels – the – same – way – or – if – he- even – knows – my – last – name kind.
So I say, “Wow, that looks… delicious,” reach in, and take a clump. As I’m pulling my arm out, my sleeve catches on the lip and the container tips, sending the gluey colored marbles everywhere. Some of them simply thud to the floor and stay there, but far too many roll across my shoes, all over the porch, and into the bushes.
“Shoot!” Aaron says. His brother is already trying to salvage what he can of the so – called treat and Aaron, after a quick glance at me, drops to his knees to help him. I don’t want to awkwardly stand over them, so I join them on the floor, collecting as many of the globules as I can.
We throw all we find back into the canister - I sincerely hope that they don’t intend on offering anyone else a sample – and stand as one. More awkward silence.
“So,” Aaron’s little brother finally breaks in. “Do you wanna buy some?”
“Definitely!” I exclaim with more enthusiasm than should ever be exerted over popcorn. “I’ll take one now that I see how they travel.”
What? What does that even mean? And if I don’t know, why am I laughing at this not – even – a – joke? I wish for the roof to fall in. It doesn’t.
“Great,” Aaron says, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out a pen and order sheet. As he hands them to me, our fingers brush and another thrill travels up my arm. I try to hide this by concentrating fully on filling out the form. Just as well – I wouldn’t be surprised if I spelled my name wrong. When I’m done, I hand the pen and sheet to him with extreme care. “Thanks!” his brother says happily.
“Yeah, thanks, Lyddie,” Aaron adds with an adorable smile.
“No problem! I was happy to do it!” Again with the ridiculous enthusiasm. “I can’t wait to get it!” Oh, my God. Stop talking now. Aaron will never like you in that way if he thinks you like popcorn more than him. I give them a stupid wave as they turn to leave, but I feel slightly better about my own behavior as I close the door and hear Aaron’s brother say, “Why were you acting so weird?”
I shut the door and lean against it. I feel as accomplished now as I ever have – I had an encounter with Aaron and I didn’t sound like a total moron. For the most part. Not anymore than he did, anyway. But he’s adorable and he can get away with it. Me, I need to watch myself. Deep breaths.
Thursday, December 2, 2010
WIP er... Friday
Sorry about the lateness. And this'll be the last look at The Other Side of Light for about a month, as I have shut it away tonight to get some distance.
“Jake and I have an announcement,” my sister all but squeals. “A very exciting announcement!” She looks at Aunt Kelly, Dad, and me, but none of us says anything, so she goes on. “As you know, Jake and I have been dating for awhile -” Oh, God. “- and we’ve grown really close since we first met -” Oh, please, God, no. “- and we think we’re ready to take our relationship to the next level -” Please don’t say it… “We’re getting married!” OH PLEASE GOD NO!
“What is wrong with you, Lyddie?” Julie demands, glaring at me. I look around at my family (and Jake), who are all staring at me, and realise that I said that last one out loud.
“Sorry,” I say. “I don’t know where that came from. I’m, uh…congrats.” Lie. A total lie. I think this whole thing is ridiculous. I’m all for love and marriage and stuff, but my sister is twenty years old. She may not be in school, but that’s no reason to run off and get married.
“Well,” Julie presses, “Anyone else going to say something?”
Another silence stretches for eternity until Dad chokes out, “Congratulations. We’re all really happy for you.” He looks over at Aunt Kelly and me. “Aren’t we?”
Aunt Kelly is staring at Julie with a strange look on her face. “Julie, could I see you in the kitchen for a moment?”
Julie’s smile doesn’t falter. “Come on, Aunt Kelly, let’s celebrate! This is exciting! Don’t you think it’s exciting?”
“Julia,” my aunt repeats. “Kitchen. Now.”
Sighing, Julie unwraps herself from Jake’s arms and follows Aunt Kelly to the kitchen door, throwing Jake a “my family is so silly sometimes” shake of the head before disappearing behind the door.
Dad and I are left alone with Jake, who neither of us have ever really talked to. We sit uncomfortably on the couch while Jake looks around the room with feigned interest. I have to know what Aunt Kelly and Julie are saying, so I get up and move toward the kitchen door.
“Lyddie, don’t,” my father warns, but I act like I haven’t heard him and ease the door open a tiny crack. I can only see Julie at this angle, standing with her arms folded and no longer smiling. I move a little closer to catch what’s being said.
“-know your duties and what’s expected of you. You’ve know them since you were seven years old.”
“I haven’t forgotten them,” Julie retorts.
“And yet you accepted the proposal of someone that you know you can’t marry?”
“I am going to marry him,” Julie say acidly.
“You can’t,” Aunt Kelly answers emphatically. “All the rules prohibit it.”
“The same rules that were bent for my mom?”
“And you know what happened with that.”
Julie raises her eyebrows and moves into her battle stance, shifting all her weight onto one hip, and I know that she’s ready to argue to the death. “No, actually, I don’t know what happened. Why don’t you tell me? My mother takes off when I’m nine and no one tells me why. So go ahead.”
“You know why.”
“No, I don’t.”
“It was too much for her.”
“That’s all you and Dad ever say. ‘It was too much for her’? What does that even mean?”
“I will not allow you to throw away all of your training for a boy you just met.”
“I’m not throwing it away! I never said I wouldn’t still do the job!”
“Julie, you know full well that the rules-”
“Screw the rules! They were invented by a bunch of scared old ladies in the dinosaur age. Times have changed and the rules need to, too.”
“The times may have changed, Julie, but the lanterns haven’t. It’s just as difficult to look after them today as it was two hundred years ago, maybe more so.”
“Then why shouldn’t I try to get as much help as possible? Jake would help me, I know he would.”
“You haven’t told him anything, have you?” Aunt Kelly’s voice has an edge of nervousness tinging the anger.
Julie rolls her eyes. “No, Aunt Kelly,” she chants like a schoolgirl reciting her multiplication tables. “I didn’t tell Jake about our deep, dark family secret.”
“Nothing?”
“Nothing. I swear.”
There’s a silence, and behind me, I can hear my dad telling me to come away from the door, but I wave away his order. I need to know how this ends. I shift so I can see Aunt Kelly, who is pacing in the small space between the island and the counter.
“It’s not too late to break off the engagement. It’s never too late these days-”
“Stop!” Julie cuts in. “I’m not breaking off the engagement. I love Jake and I’m going to marry him. I don’t care about the stupid lanterns.”
Aunt Kelly turns angry, wounded eyes to my sister. “You’re going to leave your family behind, just like that?”
“I’m not leaving my family behind. I told you, I’m perfectly happy to watch over the lanterns, after my honeymoon. I don’t want to let my family down. I just want to start my own.”
“Julie, you ca-”
“Stop telling me I can’t. I can and I will.”
“It’s dangerous.”
“So is becoming a crazy cat lady, which is the only other choice I have. I am not my mother, Aunt Kelly. I have more training than she ever had, as a result of what she did.”
“Julie-”
“I can do this. I won’t choose between Jake and the job. Either I marry him and keep the job, or I’m out. It’s up to you.”
Aunt Kelly stands quietly, bracing herself between the island and the counter. Finally, she says in a low voice, eyes on the floor, “I’ll consider what you’ve said. But I want you to consider, too, what the danger is if you go ahead with this marriage.”
“I will.”
Julie’s footsteps approach the door and I throw myself back into my seat just as she reenters. I can tell by the look she gives me that she knows I heard every word, but whether the anger I see is at me or just Aunt Kelly, it’s hard to tell. Either way, it’s gone the second she makes eye contact with Jake.
“So. Did you get to know my dad and my sister while I was away?”
“Sure,” Jake says. “We were talking about the lanterns. They look pretty old.”
“Oh, they’re getting there,” Julie says, shooting a scathing glance in Aunt Kelly’s direction.
“Julie,” Aunt Kelly warns. “How about you and Jake get some dinner? I think you have a few things to discuss.” She leans on the last word, but Julie pretends not to know what she’s talking about.
“Sounds great,” she exclaims, and I know she’s being overly happy to annoy our aunt. “Come on, Jake, let’s go.”
“Oh, uh… okay,” Jake says. He looks awkwardly at the rest of us, probably trying to figure out if he’s obliged to hug us or something, now that we’re his future family. To my relief, he doesn’t. Instead, he looks at my father and goes, “Uh, well… thank you,” before backing out of the room.
As soon as I hear the front door click shut, I let out a snort of laughter. “Did he seriously thank you?” I say to Dad. “Like, for Julie? He didn’t even technically ask your permission. Do people even do that anymore?”
I may find this situation funny, but Aunt Kelly doesn’t. Her arms are folded tightly across her chest and she looks deep in thought. “If this is to be,” she says pensively. “It’s going to take a lot of finagling. I don’t know if the rules will be allowed to be broken twice.” She ends the sentence there, but Dad and I know how it actually concludes: “After what happened last time.” We’re coming dangerously close to the subject of my mother now, something that never goes over well. Best to duck out now.
“Jake and I have an announcement,” my sister all but squeals. “A very exciting announcement!” She looks at Aunt Kelly, Dad, and me, but none of us says anything, so she goes on. “As you know, Jake and I have been dating for awhile -” Oh, God. “- and we’ve grown really close since we first met -” Oh, please, God, no. “- and we think we’re ready to take our relationship to the next level -” Please don’t say it… “We’re getting married!” OH PLEASE GOD NO!
“What is wrong with you, Lyddie?” Julie demands, glaring at me. I look around at my family (and Jake), who are all staring at me, and realise that I said that last one out loud.
“Sorry,” I say. “I don’t know where that came from. I’m, uh…congrats.” Lie. A total lie. I think this whole thing is ridiculous. I’m all for love and marriage and stuff, but my sister is twenty years old. She may not be in school, but that’s no reason to run off and get married.
“Well,” Julie presses, “Anyone else going to say something?”
Another silence stretches for eternity until Dad chokes out, “Congratulations. We’re all really happy for you.” He looks over at Aunt Kelly and me. “Aren’t we?”
Aunt Kelly is staring at Julie with a strange look on her face. “Julie, could I see you in the kitchen for a moment?”
Julie’s smile doesn’t falter. “Come on, Aunt Kelly, let’s celebrate! This is exciting! Don’t you think it’s exciting?”
“Julia,” my aunt repeats. “Kitchen. Now.”
Sighing, Julie unwraps herself from Jake’s arms and follows Aunt Kelly to the kitchen door, throwing Jake a “my family is so silly sometimes” shake of the head before disappearing behind the door.
Dad and I are left alone with Jake, who neither of us have ever really talked to. We sit uncomfortably on the couch while Jake looks around the room with feigned interest. I have to know what Aunt Kelly and Julie are saying, so I get up and move toward the kitchen door.
“Lyddie, don’t,” my father warns, but I act like I haven’t heard him and ease the door open a tiny crack. I can only see Julie at this angle, standing with her arms folded and no longer smiling. I move a little closer to catch what’s being said.
“-know your duties and what’s expected of you. You’ve know them since you were seven years old.”
“I haven’t forgotten them,” Julie retorts.
“And yet you accepted the proposal of someone that you know you can’t marry?”
“I am going to marry him,” Julie say acidly.
“You can’t,” Aunt Kelly answers emphatically. “All the rules prohibit it.”
“The same rules that were bent for my mom?”
“And you know what happened with that.”
Julie raises her eyebrows and moves into her battle stance, shifting all her weight onto one hip, and I know that she’s ready to argue to the death. “No, actually, I don’t know what happened. Why don’t you tell me? My mother takes off when I’m nine and no one tells me why. So go ahead.”
“You know why.”
“No, I don’t.”
“It was too much for her.”
“That’s all you and Dad ever say. ‘It was too much for her’? What does that even mean?”
“I will not allow you to throw away all of your training for a boy you just met.”
“I’m not throwing it away! I never said I wouldn’t still do the job!”
“Julie, you know full well that the rules-”
“Screw the rules! They were invented by a bunch of scared old ladies in the dinosaur age. Times have changed and the rules need to, too.”
“The times may have changed, Julie, but the lanterns haven’t. It’s just as difficult to look after them today as it was two hundred years ago, maybe more so.”
“Then why shouldn’t I try to get as much help as possible? Jake would help me, I know he would.”
“You haven’t told him anything, have you?” Aunt Kelly’s voice has an edge of nervousness tinging the anger.
Julie rolls her eyes. “No, Aunt Kelly,” she chants like a schoolgirl reciting her multiplication tables. “I didn’t tell Jake about our deep, dark family secret.”
“Nothing?”
“Nothing. I swear.”
There’s a silence, and behind me, I can hear my dad telling me to come away from the door, but I wave away his order. I need to know how this ends. I shift so I can see Aunt Kelly, who is pacing in the small space between the island and the counter.
“It’s not too late to break off the engagement. It’s never too late these days-”
“Stop!” Julie cuts in. “I’m not breaking off the engagement. I love Jake and I’m going to marry him. I don’t care about the stupid lanterns.”
Aunt Kelly turns angry, wounded eyes to my sister. “You’re going to leave your family behind, just like that?”
“I’m not leaving my family behind. I told you, I’m perfectly happy to watch over the lanterns, after my honeymoon. I don’t want to let my family down. I just want to start my own.”
“Julie, you ca-”
“Stop telling me I can’t. I can and I will.”
“It’s dangerous.”
“So is becoming a crazy cat lady, which is the only other choice I have. I am not my mother, Aunt Kelly. I have more training than she ever had, as a result of what she did.”
“Julie-”
“I can do this. I won’t choose between Jake and the job. Either I marry him and keep the job, or I’m out. It’s up to you.”
Aunt Kelly stands quietly, bracing herself between the island and the counter. Finally, she says in a low voice, eyes on the floor, “I’ll consider what you’ve said. But I want you to consider, too, what the danger is if you go ahead with this marriage.”
“I will.”
Julie’s footsteps approach the door and I throw myself back into my seat just as she reenters. I can tell by the look she gives me that she knows I heard every word, but whether the anger I see is at me or just Aunt Kelly, it’s hard to tell. Either way, it’s gone the second she makes eye contact with Jake.
“So. Did you get to know my dad and my sister while I was away?”
“Sure,” Jake says. “We were talking about the lanterns. They look pretty old.”
“Oh, they’re getting there,” Julie says, shooting a scathing glance in Aunt Kelly’s direction.
“Julie,” Aunt Kelly warns. “How about you and Jake get some dinner? I think you have a few things to discuss.” She leans on the last word, but Julie pretends not to know what she’s talking about.
“Sounds great,” she exclaims, and I know she’s being overly happy to annoy our aunt. “Come on, Jake, let’s go.”
“Oh, uh… okay,” Jake says. He looks awkwardly at the rest of us, probably trying to figure out if he’s obliged to hug us or something, now that we’re his future family. To my relief, he doesn’t. Instead, he looks at my father and goes, “Uh, well… thank you,” before backing out of the room.
As soon as I hear the front door click shut, I let out a snort of laughter. “Did he seriously thank you?” I say to Dad. “Like, for Julie? He didn’t even technically ask your permission. Do people even do that anymore?”
I may find this situation funny, but Aunt Kelly doesn’t. Her arms are folded tightly across her chest and she looks deep in thought. “If this is to be,” she says pensively. “It’s going to take a lot of finagling. I don’t know if the rules will be allowed to be broken twice.” She ends the sentence there, but Dad and I know how it actually concludes: “After what happened last time.” We’re coming dangerously close to the subject of my mother now, something that never goes over well. Best to duck out now.
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
WIP Wednesday
Word Count: 34,648 / 50,000
The lamp’s globe almost slips from my grip for the fourth time this afternoon. Aunt Kelly draws in her breath sharply as I catch it with the ends of my fingers.
“Lyddie, please, focus.”
“I am,” I say, frustrated. That’s the worst part – I’m trying so hard to get this right and am getting nowhere.
“Well, just… try a little harder, okay?” I can hear my aunt’s aggravation, which doesn’t help my state of mind, or the headache throbbing at my temples. “You need to remove the globes carefully and clean every bit of soot off of them. We can’t have any traces of black.”
I am in no mood to do this chore. This isn’t a job, it’s housework. Besides, jobs pay. What do I get for this? Nothing! In fact, less than what I started with. I hate this stupid job with its stupid requirements; Aunt Kelly first had me scour the lamps’ bases to make sure they were perfectly clean, resulting in the beginnings of my headache. Now I can’t even clean a freaking globe right, I can’t even go to college so I might as well just drop out of high school-
I place the globe a little too hard on the table. “I need a break.”
“We’ve only been working for forty – five minutes.”
“Well, I still need a break, okay?
“Don’t give me attitude, Lyddie.”
“I just need five minutes to take some aspirin, okay? Being thrown into this when I had a million other things to do is kind of stressing me out.”
Aunt Kelly retrieves the globe I abandoned, concentrating a little too hard on wiping it clean. “You really need to focus on this, Lyddie. It’s the most important thing right now. You’re having to catch up on years’ worth of training, and it’s going to take all of your concentration.”
“I know that,” I reply, irritated. “But I do have homework and piano and life and stuff.”
“Lyddie, right now, none of that other stuff matters. At least not until you’ve finished your training.”
“And then I start the job, so all of that will be gone for good.”
“That’s not necessarily true. I’m still talking to Dr. Philips about when a good time for me to step down. You may have a few years.”
“So then I can go to school.”
“Don’t start.”
“But I could do both! Things are different now. Insane multi-tasking is part of the high school curriculum these days.”
“I haven’t been lantern keeper for that long.”
“Yes, but even twenty years ago, you could get by without a college degree. Now… you can’t do anything without one.”
“Lyddie-”
“You can’t! Not for what I want to do. It can’t happen.”
Aunt Kelly looks pained. “Lyddie, I can’t believe – I don’t know how to explain it more clearly. You don’t need to go to college now that you’re lantern keeper because… you have no use for it. You’ll never – you can’t… be a publisher. It would be too much. I know you, Lyddie, and I know that you can do anything you put your mind to, but you can’t do this.” She sees the look on my face and hurries to clarify. “It’s not that you can’t. No one can. It’s not advisable. I know what you want, Lyddie, but you’re going to have to switch gears now. Your future has been decided for you.”
“That’s not fair! You don’t understand what a disaster this is for me-”
Aunt Kelly’s mouth falls open. “I don’t understand?!” Her voice has lost all its sympathy. “Do you think this is what I planned for myself? My entire life I watched your mother be prepped for service and I was so grateful it wasn’t me. Then, just after I had gotten a good, steady job, I heard that Leah was gone. Do you think I wanted to leave my job to take over something I never wanted in the first place? No. But your father needed me and you girls needed me. You are in the exact same position as I was, Lyddie, except you have the benefit of being warned before you could start an outside life. You should be grateful.”
I’m feeling a lot of things right now, but I can’t safely say that grateful is not one of them.
The lamp’s globe almost slips from my grip for the fourth time this afternoon. Aunt Kelly draws in her breath sharply as I catch it with the ends of my fingers.
“Lyddie, please, focus.”
“I am,” I say, frustrated. That’s the worst part – I’m trying so hard to get this right and am getting nowhere.
“Well, just… try a little harder, okay?” I can hear my aunt’s aggravation, which doesn’t help my state of mind, or the headache throbbing at my temples. “You need to remove the globes carefully and clean every bit of soot off of them. We can’t have any traces of black.”
I am in no mood to do this chore. This isn’t a job, it’s housework. Besides, jobs pay. What do I get for this? Nothing! In fact, less than what I started with. I hate this stupid job with its stupid requirements; Aunt Kelly first had me scour the lamps’ bases to make sure they were perfectly clean, resulting in the beginnings of my headache. Now I can’t even clean a freaking globe right, I can’t even go to college so I might as well just drop out of high school-
I place the globe a little too hard on the table. “I need a break.”
“We’ve only been working for forty – five minutes.”
“Well, I still need a break, okay?
“Don’t give me attitude, Lyddie.”
“I just need five minutes to take some aspirin, okay? Being thrown into this when I had a million other things to do is kind of stressing me out.”
Aunt Kelly retrieves the globe I abandoned, concentrating a little too hard on wiping it clean. “You really need to focus on this, Lyddie. It’s the most important thing right now. You’re having to catch up on years’ worth of training, and it’s going to take all of your concentration.”
“I know that,” I reply, irritated. “But I do have homework and piano and life and stuff.”
“Lyddie, right now, none of that other stuff matters. At least not until you’ve finished your training.”
“And then I start the job, so all of that will be gone for good.”
“That’s not necessarily true. I’m still talking to Dr. Philips about when a good time for me to step down. You may have a few years.”
“So then I can go to school.”
“Don’t start.”
“But I could do both! Things are different now. Insane multi-tasking is part of the high school curriculum these days.”
“I haven’t been lantern keeper for that long.”
“Yes, but even twenty years ago, you could get by without a college degree. Now… you can’t do anything without one.”
“Lyddie-”
“You can’t! Not for what I want to do. It can’t happen.”
Aunt Kelly looks pained. “Lyddie, I can’t believe – I don’t know how to explain it more clearly. You don’t need to go to college now that you’re lantern keeper because… you have no use for it. You’ll never – you can’t… be a publisher. It would be too much. I know you, Lyddie, and I know that you can do anything you put your mind to, but you can’t do this.” She sees the look on my face and hurries to clarify. “It’s not that you can’t. No one can. It’s not advisable. I know what you want, Lyddie, but you’re going to have to switch gears now. Your future has been decided for you.”
“That’s not fair! You don’t understand what a disaster this is for me-”
Aunt Kelly’s mouth falls open. “I don’t understand?!” Her voice has lost all its sympathy. “Do you think this is what I planned for myself? My entire life I watched your mother be prepped for service and I was so grateful it wasn’t me. Then, just after I had gotten a good, steady job, I heard that Leah was gone. Do you think I wanted to leave my job to take over something I never wanted in the first place? No. But your father needed me and you girls needed me. You are in the exact same position as I was, Lyddie, except you have the benefit of being warned before you could start an outside life. You should be grateful.”
I’m feeling a lot of things right now, but I can’t safely say that grateful is not one of them.
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
WIP Wednesday
I don't like to put my WIP posts with my "this is what's going on" posts, so here's this week's WIP excerpt. What you need to know is that Lyddie, to take on her job, had to basically have a routine psych exam. Though it's just a formality, one of the tests sent Lyddie into a nervous breakdown and she's terrified of the diagnostic letter that will arrive, sure it will contain notes on her failure. Read on:
“Lyddie!” I hear Julie call from downstairs. “Come get your mail!”
I go down to the foyer to find Julie holding a stack of mail, one smaller than the other. She hands me the former and I leaf through it. Ten thousand college postcards from places I would never go, even before I got the job. My half – term report is in there, so I tear it open. Straight As. Congrats, Lyddie. You’re smart and it doesn’t matter anymore. I place the report on the side table for Dad.
The last letter in the pile has a logo in the upper left hand corner that I don’t recognize immediately, but after another second, I realise that it’s from Dr. Philips’ office. The diagnostic letter.
It takes every ounce of self discipline not to take the envelope and its offending contents and feed it into the flames of the very lanterns that got me into this mess in the first place. But even if I did destroy it, Dr. Philips talks to Aunt Kelly on a semi – regular basis, so he’s sure to ask her about it. There’s no getting out of this.
I’m just about to stuff the letter in my pocket and go back up to my room when the door opens and who else but Aunt Kelly walks in.
“Hey girls.”
“Hi, Aunt Kelly,” Julie mutters, immersed in the pages of some magazine.
Aunt Kelly’s gaze lands on me. “Lyddie? Are you okay?”
“Mm-hm. Totally okay.” I try to inch the hand with the letter behind my back, but of course she notices. “What’s that?”
“Uh… report card.” Technically I’m not lying. It is a report card of sorts and I’m pretty sure it’s the kind I’ve never gotten in my entire life- just one big F written in red across the page. Or, no, probably a C, for Crazy.
“Can I see it?”
It takes me a second to move, but I have to give it to her, so finally, I do. I watch my fate literally pass out of my hands. She’s going to be so mad…
She doesn’t open it right away, though. “How about we get a snack before we discuss this? I’m famished and I’m sure there’s some important and interesting stuff to talk about in here.”
“Yeah. Important and interesting.”
I follow her into the kitchen where she removes some grapes from the refrigerator and sits down with the death letter. Popping a grape into her mouth, she tears it open and unfolds it. Before she looks at it, she catches sight of me still standing. “Sit down, Lyddie, so we can talk about this.”
“I’m okay.”
“What?”
“There’s something about being right by the door that’s really working for me.”
She nudges a chair out with her foot. “Don’t be silly. Sit down.”
Trepidaciously, I do, and watch Aunt Kelly’s face carefully as she scans the contents of the letter. Her expression doesn’t give me a single clue, bad or good. Finally, she sets it down.
“Well.” That’s all she says.
I cringe, looking anywhere but at her. “I know. I’m sorry. I tried.”
“Obviously not hard enough.”
“I’m sorry, really.” I chance another glance at her. She doesn’t look mad, more… disappointed. So she’s going to take the scary calm route. This is going to suck. “I just… I freaked out and I don’t want to ruin anything for Julie and I’m really really sorry.”
“’Freaking out’ is not an excuse for rudeness.”
I look at her now, confused. “What?”
“Dr. Philips reports that through almost the entire session, you were hostile and uncooperative.”
“That’s… all?”
“All? Lyddie, he is very important to our cause. We can’t lose his support.”
“But that’s all he wrote? That I was rude? Nothing about… anything else going on? The results of the test?”
“Well, he can’t report on each test individually – it’s against the privacy code. He did write a general summary of your results, and they seem to be fairly good. But Lyddie, that’s no excuse for your behavior. You’re not a child anymore.”
I’m too busy breathing several thousand sighs of relief to be properly chastised. He didn’t write anything about my breakdown. Thank God. But why? Surely someone who demonstrated such signs of instability can’t be good for the job.
“Lyddie? Are you listening to me?”
“Yeah. Sorry. I won’t do it again, Aunt Kelly. I was just stressed. I’m fine now.”
My curiosity gets the better of me. “What else did he write? Anything good?”
She consults the letter. “That you’re obviously very intelligent. Despite the uncooperativeness, you scored very high on the majority of the tests. But that doesn’t excuse -”
“I know, I know. I have to be nice from now on. I will, I promise.” Now that I don’t feel like I’m going to throw up anymore, I steal a grape. “Can I go now?”
“Sure, go ahead.”
I escape back up to my room, where I practically melt into a puddle of relief. I never thought I’d say it, but thank God for Dr. Philips. I don’t know why he let me off the hook, but I’m grateful he did. Now I just have to pretend that that episode never happened and get on with my life… such as it is now that I’ve been cleared.
“Lyddie!” I hear Julie call from downstairs. “Come get your mail!”
I go down to the foyer to find Julie holding a stack of mail, one smaller than the other. She hands me the former and I leaf through it. Ten thousand college postcards from places I would never go, even before I got the job. My half – term report is in there, so I tear it open. Straight As. Congrats, Lyddie. You’re smart and it doesn’t matter anymore. I place the report on the side table for Dad.
The last letter in the pile has a logo in the upper left hand corner that I don’t recognize immediately, but after another second, I realise that it’s from Dr. Philips’ office. The diagnostic letter.
It takes every ounce of self discipline not to take the envelope and its offending contents and feed it into the flames of the very lanterns that got me into this mess in the first place. But even if I did destroy it, Dr. Philips talks to Aunt Kelly on a semi – regular basis, so he’s sure to ask her about it. There’s no getting out of this.
I’m just about to stuff the letter in my pocket and go back up to my room when the door opens and who else but Aunt Kelly walks in.
“Hey girls.”
“Hi, Aunt Kelly,” Julie mutters, immersed in the pages of some magazine.
Aunt Kelly’s gaze lands on me. “Lyddie? Are you okay?”
“Mm-hm. Totally okay.” I try to inch the hand with the letter behind my back, but of course she notices. “What’s that?”
“Uh… report card.” Technically I’m not lying. It is a report card of sorts and I’m pretty sure it’s the kind I’ve never gotten in my entire life- just one big F written in red across the page. Or, no, probably a C, for Crazy.
“Can I see it?”
It takes me a second to move, but I have to give it to her, so finally, I do. I watch my fate literally pass out of my hands. She’s going to be so mad…
She doesn’t open it right away, though. “How about we get a snack before we discuss this? I’m famished and I’m sure there’s some important and interesting stuff to talk about in here.”
“Yeah. Important and interesting.”
I follow her into the kitchen where she removes some grapes from the refrigerator and sits down with the death letter. Popping a grape into her mouth, she tears it open and unfolds it. Before she looks at it, she catches sight of me still standing. “Sit down, Lyddie, so we can talk about this.”
“I’m okay.”
“What?”
“There’s something about being right by the door that’s really working for me.”
She nudges a chair out with her foot. “Don’t be silly. Sit down.”
Trepidaciously, I do, and watch Aunt Kelly’s face carefully as she scans the contents of the letter. Her expression doesn’t give me a single clue, bad or good. Finally, she sets it down.
“Well.” That’s all she says.
I cringe, looking anywhere but at her. “I know. I’m sorry. I tried.”
“Obviously not hard enough.”
“I’m sorry, really.” I chance another glance at her. She doesn’t look mad, more… disappointed. So she’s going to take the scary calm route. This is going to suck. “I just… I freaked out and I don’t want to ruin anything for Julie and I’m really really sorry.”
“’Freaking out’ is not an excuse for rudeness.”
I look at her now, confused. “What?”
“Dr. Philips reports that through almost the entire session, you were hostile and uncooperative.”
“That’s… all?”
“All? Lyddie, he is very important to our cause. We can’t lose his support.”
“But that’s all he wrote? That I was rude? Nothing about… anything else going on? The results of the test?”
“Well, he can’t report on each test individually – it’s against the privacy code. He did write a general summary of your results, and they seem to be fairly good. But Lyddie, that’s no excuse for your behavior. You’re not a child anymore.”
I’m too busy breathing several thousand sighs of relief to be properly chastised. He didn’t write anything about my breakdown. Thank God. But why? Surely someone who demonstrated such signs of instability can’t be good for the job.
“Lyddie? Are you listening to me?”
“Yeah. Sorry. I won’t do it again, Aunt Kelly. I was just stressed. I’m fine now.”
My curiosity gets the better of me. “What else did he write? Anything good?”
She consults the letter. “That you’re obviously very intelligent. Despite the uncooperativeness, you scored very high on the majority of the tests. But that doesn’t excuse -”
“I know, I know. I have to be nice from now on. I will, I promise.” Now that I don’t feel like I’m going to throw up anymore, I steal a grape. “Can I go now?”
“Sure, go ahead.”
I escape back up to my room, where I practically melt into a puddle of relief. I never thought I’d say it, but thank God for Dr. Philips. I don’t know why he let me off the hook, but I’m grateful he did. Now I just have to pretend that that episode never happened and get on with my life… such as it is now that I’ve been cleared.
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
WIP Wednesday
Hooray, a WIP Wednesday where I'm not scrambling (or, er... skipping...) Here's a brand-new, just written yesterday exceprt from The Other Side of Light (NaNo2010):
I’m almost out the door when I notice an unattended table at the end of a row. There are a few brochures stacked on a corner and a few loose sheets of paper, but nothing else. Curious, I pick up one of the leaflets and unfold it. Inside are listed individual study opportunities. “Save the cost!” reads the first page inside. “Study with the College of Autarchical Studies and learn what you want on your own time, resulting in a degree you can take pride in- because you created it!”
I raise my eyebrows when I read this sentence. This sounds like those types of for – profit colleges that you hear about on t.v. and I’m kind of surprised that the school even let them into the building, let alone set up a table. I guess it’s an option, but not for me. I’ve just put the brochure back on top of the pile when I hear someone come up behind me.
“Interested in our school?” the man says. He’s so tall that I have to tilt my head back to see his face clearly. He makes it easier by coming around the table and sitting behind it so that we’re eye to eye.
“Um… just looking,” I respond, not wanting to be rude.
“Well, we’re taking applications now and the benefits of our school are great, especially if you don’t have the funds or time to go to a full – time university.”
“Oh,” I say, wondering how I can sneak away without too much more conversation. “Sounds… convenient.”
The man is still trying to hand me the paper, smiling widely behind his brown moustache. “Oh, it is. Take a look at our website when you get home, you’ll see what I mean.”
“Okay,” I nod, scanning the people around me for someone I know so I can pretend to need to talk to them. Sadly, I see no one.
“And maybe,” the man says, still grinning widely and holding out the pamphlet, “Someone from the college could pay a visit to you and your family? Explain to them a little about our mission and what you can glean from the program. Does that sound good?”
Now I’m getting weirded out. “Uh… I don’t know, we’re all pretty busy.”
“I’m sure we can work something out. Does your mom work?”
“My mom isn’t… around,” I answer and immediately regret responding at all. “I really don’t know if a meeting can be arranged.”
The papers are still being waved in my face. “Well, at least take the brochure. I’m sure you’ll see the benefits if you take the time to look into the program.”
Finally, I give in and take the booklet. “Sure. I will,” I say and scurry away as quickly as possible. The bell rings and I shove the brochure into my bag and take the steps two at a time.
At lunch, I set my tray on the table and plop down next to my best friend, Michelle. If you look at us quickly, we seem like an odd match. While we’re both thin, she’s about four foot nine and the tininess suits her, whereas I walk around next to her feeling like a giraffe. Where I’m awkward, she’s graceful. While I sit there in jeans and a t – shirt, she’s dressed in adorable little skirts and cute blouses.
“So where have you been?” Michelle inquires, putting aside the bread from her chicken sandwich. “I haven’t seen you all day.”
“Yeah, sorry. This morning I had to talk to Mrs. Taylor about going to McKinley in a couple of weeks to take the SAT-2s again. I want to get my writing score by at least a hundred. And then physics got out early for the college fair. Speaking of -” I open my iced tea. “Did you see that one table, the College of Autarchial Studies or whatever?”
“No,” Michelle says. “What is it? Sounds weird.”
“It was, and not just because of the ridiculous name. First of all, I can’t believe Principal Foeller would let them in – they didn’t look or sound very reputable. And then the guy running the table was just a creeper. He wasn’t there when I got to it, and then he came up behind me and started asking me all of these weird questions. I didn’t want to be rude and be like, ‘There is no freaking way I am going to your school, so bug off,’ but he wouldn’t let me go.”
“Awkward,” Michelle remarks, drinking her water with a straw.
“So you didn’t see him?”
“I didn’t even go.”
“Michelle!” I exclaim.
Though you might not be able to tell, Michelle’s crazy smart. She and I have been best friends since second grade and when we were kids, she was just as outwardly nerdy as I was- the books, the glasses, the constant raising of the hand. These days, she hides her intellect behind contacts and slightly too-short skirts, but in reality, she’s reading on her Blackberry, not texting, and she could whoop your butt at calculus while carrying on a conversation about the latest issue of People magazine. But as intelligent as she is, I sometimes suspect that she has no common sense.
“You need to get on this stuff,” I chide. “The process has to happen eventually; why not get a jump start? College is just around the corner.”
Michelle examines her perfect manicure. “Lyddie, calm down. It’s March of our junior year. I’ve got plenty of time. We all don’t need to be you, okay?”
A little stung, I take a sip of my tea and don’t say anything. Sometimes I forget that people aren’t as manically committed to things like perfect SAT scores and early decision as I am. Admittedly, I can get jealous of these people – they somehow find the time to relax and go to concerts or whatever. I wish I could be more like these people, like my best friend – she knows she’s smart and that’s all she needs; she doesn’t feel compelled to constantly prove it to others and to herself like I do. All of those tests she gets As on barely get a passing glance, while I pore over my A minus wondering how I can talk it into an A plus. What is it like to be calm about these things? I guess I’ve never considered that maybe Michelle isn’t hiding her smarts; maybe she’s just gained those I haven’t. I do have the contacts, though. Maybe that’s a step in the right direction.
I’m almost out the door when I notice an unattended table at the end of a row. There are a few brochures stacked on a corner and a few loose sheets of paper, but nothing else. Curious, I pick up one of the leaflets and unfold it. Inside are listed individual study opportunities. “Save the cost!” reads the first page inside. “Study with the College of Autarchical Studies and learn what you want on your own time, resulting in a degree you can take pride in- because you created it!”
I raise my eyebrows when I read this sentence. This sounds like those types of for – profit colleges that you hear about on t.v. and I’m kind of surprised that the school even let them into the building, let alone set up a table. I guess it’s an option, but not for me. I’ve just put the brochure back on top of the pile when I hear someone come up behind me.
“Interested in our school?” the man says. He’s so tall that I have to tilt my head back to see his face clearly. He makes it easier by coming around the table and sitting behind it so that we’re eye to eye.
“Um… just looking,” I respond, not wanting to be rude.
“Well, we’re taking applications now and the benefits of our school are great, especially if you don’t have the funds or time to go to a full – time university.”
“Oh,” I say, wondering how I can sneak away without too much more conversation. “Sounds… convenient.”
The man is still trying to hand me the paper, smiling widely behind his brown moustache. “Oh, it is. Take a look at our website when you get home, you’ll see what I mean.”
“Okay,” I nod, scanning the people around me for someone I know so I can pretend to need to talk to them. Sadly, I see no one.
“And maybe,” the man says, still grinning widely and holding out the pamphlet, “Someone from the college could pay a visit to you and your family? Explain to them a little about our mission and what you can glean from the program. Does that sound good?”
Now I’m getting weirded out. “Uh… I don’t know, we’re all pretty busy.”
“I’m sure we can work something out. Does your mom work?”
“My mom isn’t… around,” I answer and immediately regret responding at all. “I really don’t know if a meeting can be arranged.”
The papers are still being waved in my face. “Well, at least take the brochure. I’m sure you’ll see the benefits if you take the time to look into the program.”
Finally, I give in and take the booklet. “Sure. I will,” I say and scurry away as quickly as possible. The bell rings and I shove the brochure into my bag and take the steps two at a time.
At lunch, I set my tray on the table and plop down next to my best friend, Michelle. If you look at us quickly, we seem like an odd match. While we’re both thin, she’s about four foot nine and the tininess suits her, whereas I walk around next to her feeling like a giraffe. Where I’m awkward, she’s graceful. While I sit there in jeans and a t – shirt, she’s dressed in adorable little skirts and cute blouses.
“So where have you been?” Michelle inquires, putting aside the bread from her chicken sandwich. “I haven’t seen you all day.”
“Yeah, sorry. This morning I had to talk to Mrs. Taylor about going to McKinley in a couple of weeks to take the SAT-2s again. I want to get my writing score by at least a hundred. And then physics got out early for the college fair. Speaking of -” I open my iced tea. “Did you see that one table, the College of Autarchial Studies or whatever?”
“No,” Michelle says. “What is it? Sounds weird.”
“It was, and not just because of the ridiculous name. First of all, I can’t believe Principal Foeller would let them in – they didn’t look or sound very reputable. And then the guy running the table was just a creeper. He wasn’t there when I got to it, and then he came up behind me and started asking me all of these weird questions. I didn’t want to be rude and be like, ‘There is no freaking way I am going to your school, so bug off,’ but he wouldn’t let me go.”
“Awkward,” Michelle remarks, drinking her water with a straw.
“So you didn’t see him?”
“I didn’t even go.”
“Michelle!” I exclaim.
Though you might not be able to tell, Michelle’s crazy smart. She and I have been best friends since second grade and when we were kids, she was just as outwardly nerdy as I was- the books, the glasses, the constant raising of the hand. These days, she hides her intellect behind contacts and slightly too-short skirts, but in reality, she’s reading on her Blackberry, not texting, and she could whoop your butt at calculus while carrying on a conversation about the latest issue of People magazine. But as intelligent as she is, I sometimes suspect that she has no common sense.
“You need to get on this stuff,” I chide. “The process has to happen eventually; why not get a jump start? College is just around the corner.”
Michelle examines her perfect manicure. “Lyddie, calm down. It’s March of our junior year. I’ve got plenty of time. We all don’t need to be you, okay?”
A little stung, I take a sip of my tea and don’t say anything. Sometimes I forget that people aren’t as manically committed to things like perfect SAT scores and early decision as I am. Admittedly, I can get jealous of these people – they somehow find the time to relax and go to concerts or whatever. I wish I could be more like these people, like my best friend – she knows she’s smart and that’s all she needs; she doesn’t feel compelled to constantly prove it to others and to herself like I do. All of those tests she gets As on barely get a passing glance, while I pore over my A minus wondering how I can talk it into an A plus. What is it like to be calm about these things? I guess I’ve never considered that maybe Michelle isn’t hiding her smarts; maybe she’s just gained those I haven’t. I do have the contacts, though. Maybe that’s a step in the right direction.
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
WIP Wednesday
I'm doing what I've always read that I should do as a writer, but never actually did: I am setting aside a few hours out of each day to devote solely to writing. Right now, it's at three per day, and I've scheduled them outside of my normal writing hours (9 pm- 3 am) so hopefully I can get some product in the beginning of the day by force and then continue working on that product when my brain is actually working. The curse of being a night owl.
So anyway, what I'm working feverishly on right now is my Peter Pan Inspiration, so here's a scene from it. All you need to know if that this is a teenaged Mrs. Darling after she ran away from Neverland after she had a big fight with Peter.
(MARY is in her room when she hears a tap at the window. She drops what she’s doing, runs over to it, and throws it open. PETER flies through and lands on the toy chest.)
PETER. Found you!
MARY. Peter! What are you doing here?
PETER. Where have you been, Mary? The boys all miss you so. Our house is such a mess.
MARY. I came back, Peter.
PETER. Well why’d you do that? (He looks around) It’s so dreary here.
(MRS. LIDDELL approaches on the other side of the door but stops when she hears her daughter speaking, apparently to no one.)
MARY. I didn’t think I’d ever see you again…
PETER. Here I am! You must come back right now- the mermaids and the boys are having a swimming contest!
MARY. Do you forgive me then, Peter?
PETER. Forgive you? For what?
MARY. Well… I left Neverland.
PETER. Well, you did break the rules of hide and seek, but you’ve always been a good hider. Of course I forgive you. Now come on!
MARY. No, Peter. I left because you were angry with me and I said… some terrible things. I’m sorry for that. I was just homesick and upset. I didn’t mean them at all.
(MR. LIDDELL comes through the hallway and MRS. LIDDELL silently motions for him to join her.)
PETER. (hardly acknowledging her apology) It’s fine. Now, I’ll just sprinkle you with some fairy dust and we’ll be off. The boys will be so happy I’ve found you! (He grabs her hand, but MARY doesn’t move.) What’s wrong?
MARY. I can’t go, Peter.
PETER. Yes you can. Just move your feet, silly. (He pulls on her hand again, but still she doesn’t move. He thinks she’s playing a game.) Ma-ary!
MARY. Peter, you don’t understand. I can’t go. My parents were so angry when they saw I had left-
PETER. Parents don’t know what fun is.
MARY. But they know other things, like how to send me away if I don’t act like a young lady.
PETER. (alarmed) They’re sending you away?! Where?
MARY. They won’t if I act like I should. But that means I can’t go to Neverland again.
PETER. Ever?
MARY. That’s right.
PETER. I hate your parents.
MARY. Peter…
PETER. Don’t you?
MARY. I- I…
PETER. I do. They’re mean and I hate them. I don’t want you to live with mean people. You need to come with me. Now.
MARY. (pained) I can’t…
PETER. Yes, you can.
MARY. (tearful) I don’t want them to send me away, Peter.
PETER. They can’t get you in Neverland! No grown-ups allowed! You’ll be safe!
MARY. I’m not going.
PETER. Yes you are.
MARY. No.
PETER. (stomping his foot) Mary!
MARY. (turning away from him) You need to go now, Peter. I don’t want my parents to hear me talking to you.
PETER. I’m not leaving without you.
MARY. You’ll have to. (She walks over to the window and holds it open for him. They stare at each other for a long moment.) Good-bye, Peter.
PETER. You’re wrong, Mary. You should be coming with me. They won’t be nice to you here.
MARY. I’ll miss you.
(After another long moment, PETER takes his leave out the window. MARY watches him sadly, but then closes the window firmly, latches it shut, and pulls the curtains over it.
Out in the hallway, MR. and MRS. LIDDELL look at each other in alarm.)
Lights down.)
So anyway, what I'm working feverishly on right now is my Peter Pan Inspiration, so here's a scene from it. All you need to know if that this is a teenaged Mrs. Darling after she ran away from Neverland after she had a big fight with Peter.
(MARY is in her room when she hears a tap at the window. She drops what she’s doing, runs over to it, and throws it open. PETER flies through and lands on the toy chest.)
PETER. Found you!
MARY. Peter! What are you doing here?
PETER. Where have you been, Mary? The boys all miss you so. Our house is such a mess.
MARY. I came back, Peter.
PETER. Well why’d you do that? (He looks around) It’s so dreary here.
(MRS. LIDDELL approaches on the other side of the door but stops when she hears her daughter speaking, apparently to no one.)
MARY. I didn’t think I’d ever see you again…
PETER. Here I am! You must come back right now- the mermaids and the boys are having a swimming contest!
MARY. Do you forgive me then, Peter?
PETER. Forgive you? For what?
MARY. Well… I left Neverland.
PETER. Well, you did break the rules of hide and seek, but you’ve always been a good hider. Of course I forgive you. Now come on!
MARY. No, Peter. I left because you were angry with me and I said… some terrible things. I’m sorry for that. I was just homesick and upset. I didn’t mean them at all.
(MR. LIDDELL comes through the hallway and MRS. LIDDELL silently motions for him to join her.)
PETER. (hardly acknowledging her apology) It’s fine. Now, I’ll just sprinkle you with some fairy dust and we’ll be off. The boys will be so happy I’ve found you! (He grabs her hand, but MARY doesn’t move.) What’s wrong?
MARY. I can’t go, Peter.
PETER. Yes you can. Just move your feet, silly. (He pulls on her hand again, but still she doesn’t move. He thinks she’s playing a game.) Ma-ary!
MARY. Peter, you don’t understand. I can’t go. My parents were so angry when they saw I had left-
PETER. Parents don’t know what fun is.
MARY. But they know other things, like how to send me away if I don’t act like a young lady.
PETER. (alarmed) They’re sending you away?! Where?
MARY. They won’t if I act like I should. But that means I can’t go to Neverland again.
PETER. Ever?
MARY. That’s right.
PETER. I hate your parents.
MARY. Peter…
PETER. Don’t you?
MARY. I- I…
PETER. I do. They’re mean and I hate them. I don’t want you to live with mean people. You need to come with me. Now.
MARY. (pained) I can’t…
PETER. Yes, you can.
MARY. (tearful) I don’t want them to send me away, Peter.
PETER. They can’t get you in Neverland! No grown-ups allowed! You’ll be safe!
MARY. I’m not going.
PETER. Yes you are.
MARY. No.
PETER. (stomping his foot) Mary!
MARY. (turning away from him) You need to go now, Peter. I don’t want my parents to hear me talking to you.
PETER. I’m not leaving without you.
MARY. You’ll have to. (She walks over to the window and holds it open for him. They stare at each other for a long moment.) Good-bye, Peter.
PETER. You’re wrong, Mary. You should be coming with me. They won’t be nice to you here.
MARY. I’ll miss you.
(After another long moment, PETER takes his leave out the window. MARY watches him sadly, but then closes the window firmly, latches it shut, and pulls the curtains over it.
Out in the hallway, MR. and MRS. LIDDELL look at each other in alarm.)
Lights down.)
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
WIP Wednesday
Bit down at the moment for things non-writing related, so I shall not bore you. Instead, I will live up to my obligations. This is a short story I wrote my freshman year of college, off the prompt that asked me to begin a story with "The hallway was silent."
The hallway was silent, and that was what put me on edge. Had the corridor been filled with the usual rush of people, I might have been easier. But as it was, I could hear my own heartbeat as I slunk down the hall, trying to get to my destination as quickly as possible.
In the movies, people always have really cool moves- they roll across a hallway or do back handsprings over motion detectors. I, on the other hand, can barely even walk down the hallway without tripping over my own feet. Anyway, I didn’t have time for fancy moves- I was on a mission. I was here to get… my English homework.
Okay, I know I built that up, but this was seriously important. We had been working on a paper in class, and so many people were trying to print theirs out at once that I didn’t have time to get mine. Then, of course, I completely forgot about it at the end of the day. The paper was due tomorrow, worth twenty percent of our grade, so I needed that paper.
‘But Julianna,’ you are burning to ask, ‘Why, in this age of e-mail, didn’t you just send it to yourself?’ I have one thing to say to you: shut up. I was busy, okay? I was working on my paper (and maybe playing around with the photobooth on the computer) and I didn’t get a chance to send it to myself. That’s why I’m here, poised at the classroom door, bobby pin in hand.
In the movies, the person doing the breaking in always sticks the bobby pin in the keyhole, jiggles a little bit, and voila! But it wasn’t until I had inserted the bobby pin into the lock that I realised my error- the keyholes in movies are always those old-fashioned ones. This was a brand new, tiny lock in the middle of a handle. I made to pull the bobby pin out, but it wouldn’t budge. Now Mrs. James has a straightened-out hair clip poking from her door. I think she’ll like it.
As I tried to pull the pin free, the door came open. Oh… it was unlocked the whole time. I slipped in and looked around furtively. In and out quickly, Julianna. Do not get distracted by that book you wanted to borrow. Just get the paper and get out.
I saw the printer out of the corner of my eye. Paper was resting in the tray. I dashed over and grabbed it. My paper! Yes! It was as I was making sure all of the pages were there that I heard a shuffling outside the door. Crap… crap… How could I escape?
My eyes fell on the window. The windows at my school are not easy to get out of, but it was either get away or stay here and get caught. So I opened the window as far as it would go and squeezed through, falling to the ground underneath it. A graceless getaway, but a getaway nonetheless.
The hallway was silent, and that was what put me on edge. Had the corridor been filled with the usual rush of people, I might have been easier. But as it was, I could hear my own heartbeat as I slunk down the hall, trying to get to my destination as quickly as possible.
In the movies, people always have really cool moves- they roll across a hallway or do back handsprings over motion detectors. I, on the other hand, can barely even walk down the hallway without tripping over my own feet. Anyway, I didn’t have time for fancy moves- I was on a mission. I was here to get… my English homework.
Okay, I know I built that up, but this was seriously important. We had been working on a paper in class, and so many people were trying to print theirs out at once that I didn’t have time to get mine. Then, of course, I completely forgot about it at the end of the day. The paper was due tomorrow, worth twenty percent of our grade, so I needed that paper.
‘But Julianna,’ you are burning to ask, ‘Why, in this age of e-mail, didn’t you just send it to yourself?’ I have one thing to say to you: shut up. I was busy, okay? I was working on my paper (and maybe playing around with the photobooth on the computer) and I didn’t get a chance to send it to myself. That’s why I’m here, poised at the classroom door, bobby pin in hand.
In the movies, the person doing the breaking in always sticks the bobby pin in the keyhole, jiggles a little bit, and voila! But it wasn’t until I had inserted the bobby pin into the lock that I realised my error- the keyholes in movies are always those old-fashioned ones. This was a brand new, tiny lock in the middle of a handle. I made to pull the bobby pin out, but it wouldn’t budge. Now Mrs. James has a straightened-out hair clip poking from her door. I think she’ll like it.
As I tried to pull the pin free, the door came open. Oh… it was unlocked the whole time. I slipped in and looked around furtively. In and out quickly, Julianna. Do not get distracted by that book you wanted to borrow. Just get the paper and get out.
I saw the printer out of the corner of my eye. Paper was resting in the tray. I dashed over and grabbed it. My paper! Yes! It was as I was making sure all of the pages were there that I heard a shuffling outside the door. Crap… crap… How could I escape?
My eyes fell on the window. The windows at my school are not easy to get out of, but it was either get away or stay here and get caught. So I opened the window as far as it would go and squeezed through, falling to the ground underneath it. A graceless getaway, but a getaway nonetheless.
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
WIP Wednesday
Some more of NaNo '10 for you :)
“Now, Lyddie, you have an appointment on the third; I’ve already written you an excuse card, so just hand this in to-”
“Wait,” I say. “I can’t leave early on the third. I’ve got a class.”
“You need to go to this meeting,” Aunt Kaye says shortly, still trying to hand me the card.
“Is it an appointment or is it a meeting?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, a meeting implies a general gathering at which people discuss something in an open forum while eating cookies. An appointment implies a nice couch and a psychologist.”
“Lyddie-”
“I’m serious, I can’t go.”
“You have to. Here.” She finally gets the packet into my hands. “Just read this over. It will tell you everything you need to know.”
“Then why do I have to go see the guy? Is he going to read it to me? Because I’ve been doing my own reading for quite some time now.”
“No, he’ll just explain things to you; the finer details.”
“I don’t need the finer details, Aunt Kelly. At the risk of sounding like a real teenager, my life is over and that’s all there is to it. I’d rather not add missing this class to my list of Reasons Why My Life Sucks Right Now.”
“Lyddie-”
“No, I can’t. I-”
“Lyddie, listen to me!” Something in my aunt’s voice stops my tirade. “You need to do this. The job you’re going to undertake may seem simple, but it’s not. There are a lot of intricacies that you don’t understand yet – Dr. Philips will explain those to you as well.”
I look at the pages in my hand. Admittedly, I don’t know much about this whole lantern thing, and I don’t want to screw it up. “Fine,” I sigh. “I’ll go. But if he tries to shrink me, I’m out of there.”
“Now, Lyddie, you have an appointment on the third; I’ve already written you an excuse card, so just hand this in to-”
“Wait,” I say. “I can’t leave early on the third. I’ve got a class.”
“You need to go to this meeting,” Aunt Kaye says shortly, still trying to hand me the card.
“Is it an appointment or is it a meeting?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, a meeting implies a general gathering at which people discuss something in an open forum while eating cookies. An appointment implies a nice couch and a psychologist.”
“Lyddie-”
“I’m serious, I can’t go.”
“You have to. Here.” She finally gets the packet into my hands. “Just read this over. It will tell you everything you need to know.”
“Then why do I have to go see the guy? Is he going to read it to me? Because I’ve been doing my own reading for quite some time now.”
“No, he’ll just explain things to you; the finer details.”
“I don’t need the finer details, Aunt Kelly. At the risk of sounding like a real teenager, my life is over and that’s all there is to it. I’d rather not add missing this class to my list of Reasons Why My Life Sucks Right Now.”
“Lyddie-”
“No, I can’t. I-”
“Lyddie, listen to me!” Something in my aunt’s voice stops my tirade. “You need to do this. The job you’re going to undertake may seem simple, but it’s not. There are a lot of intricacies that you don’t understand yet – Dr. Philips will explain those to you as well.”
I look at the pages in my hand. Admittedly, I don’t know much about this whole lantern thing, and I don’t want to screw it up. “Fine,” I sigh. “I’ll go. But if he tries to shrink me, I’m out of there.”
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
WIP Wednesday
I literally just ended a meeting with my best friend/writing partner Katie. We edited our screenplay that's been in the works since 2005. It was also a good-bye breakfast, as she leaves for another year in Texas in less than twenty-four hours. Sad :( But it all went very well and we have big plans for it.
As for WIP Wednesday, here's something I'm not sure if I shared before, but even if I have, I'm going to again :p Here's a clip from Q/Quarantined.
Eliza’s parents left around six o’clock that night. She tried to distract herself with a book, but soon closed it. At 7:02, she would have her final birthday. The idea didn’t astonish her as much as it did when she was first admitted. However, she couldn’t help thinking that spending her last three years stuck in a single room was not exactly living life to the fullest.
Impulsively, she crossed to the refrigerator and took out the box containing the second cupcake her parents had left for her. Placing it on her desk, she opened the package. Inside, she found not only the cake, but another candle and match. Was it cheating if she made another wish?
No, she decided. It was her birthday. Her last birthday. And if she wanted to make two wishes, who was going to stop her?
Placing the candle in the middle of the cupcake, she lit the wick and blew out the match. She watched the unmoving flame as it glowed. What did she want this time? She really only wanted one thing. Could you wish for the same thing twice?
Well, she was already cheating by making two wishes, so she might as well go for broke. She kept her eyes open this time as she thought, ‘I want my life back.’ Eliza blew out the candle. And as the flame went out, so did everything else. The room was suddenly plunged into darkness.
In her nearly three years at St. Claire’s, she had never experienced a power outage. What might happen to her - to everyone here - if they didn’t get everything up and working again?
“Sorry, my bad.”
When the voice spoke from the darkness, Eliza screamed and flattened herself against the wall.
“Wh-who’s in here?” she stammered.
“Hang on… crap, I can’t find the switch.” The voice was young and male and anomalously casual, given the situation.
“What are you doing here?” Eliza asked, wishing the fear would leave her voice. How did someone get in here?
“Wait - okay, found it.” The lights suddenly came back on, leaving Eliza squinting.
Across the room stood a tall, skinny, dark-haired boy of about sixteen. He leaned casually against the doorframe as though he broke into terminally ill girls’ rooms all the time.
“Who are you?” Eliza asked. “And how did you get in here? Where’s Darren? You should leave - you could get sick.”
After a moment, the boy spoke. “I guess I’ll take those one at a time. My name is Jonah Teagan. I came through the door. Darren is busy trying to figure out a way out of the storeroom he’s locked in. And calm down - I can’t catch AV from you. Or from anyone, for that matter. Which means you don’t have to stick yourself to that wall if you don’t want to.”
Eliza stepped away from the wall, but didn’t approach him. “I don’t understand- what do you mean you can’t catch AV? No one but me has been in this room for almost three years because they said I’m highly contagious.”
“Oh, don’t worry, you are. Just not to me.”
“What does that mean?” Eliza inquired disbelievingly. In her opinion, this Jonah guy was at this very moment taking his final uninfected breath, especially if he kept coming closer.
Jonah took a few more steps toward her so that he was almost an arm’s length away. “It means,” he said, looking her directly in the eye. “That I have an offer to make you. Care to listen?”
As for WIP Wednesday, here's something I'm not sure if I shared before, but even if I have, I'm going to again :p Here's a clip from Q/Quarantined.
Eliza’s parents left around six o’clock that night. She tried to distract herself with a book, but soon closed it. At 7:02, she would have her final birthday. The idea didn’t astonish her as much as it did when she was first admitted. However, she couldn’t help thinking that spending her last three years stuck in a single room was not exactly living life to the fullest.
Impulsively, she crossed to the refrigerator and took out the box containing the second cupcake her parents had left for her. Placing it on her desk, she opened the package. Inside, she found not only the cake, but another candle and match. Was it cheating if she made another wish?
No, she decided. It was her birthday. Her last birthday. And if she wanted to make two wishes, who was going to stop her?
Placing the candle in the middle of the cupcake, she lit the wick and blew out the match. She watched the unmoving flame as it glowed. What did she want this time? She really only wanted one thing. Could you wish for the same thing twice?
Well, she was already cheating by making two wishes, so she might as well go for broke. She kept her eyes open this time as she thought, ‘I want my life back.’ Eliza blew out the candle. And as the flame went out, so did everything else. The room was suddenly plunged into darkness.
In her nearly three years at St. Claire’s, she had never experienced a power outage. What might happen to her - to everyone here - if they didn’t get everything up and working again?
“Sorry, my bad.”
When the voice spoke from the darkness, Eliza screamed and flattened herself against the wall.
“Wh-who’s in here?” she stammered.
“Hang on… crap, I can’t find the switch.” The voice was young and male and anomalously casual, given the situation.
“What are you doing here?” Eliza asked, wishing the fear would leave her voice. How did someone get in here?
“Wait - okay, found it.” The lights suddenly came back on, leaving Eliza squinting.
Across the room stood a tall, skinny, dark-haired boy of about sixteen. He leaned casually against the doorframe as though he broke into terminally ill girls’ rooms all the time.
“Who are you?” Eliza asked. “And how did you get in here? Where’s Darren? You should leave - you could get sick.”
After a moment, the boy spoke. “I guess I’ll take those one at a time. My name is Jonah Teagan. I came through the door. Darren is busy trying to figure out a way out of the storeroom he’s locked in. And calm down - I can’t catch AV from you. Or from anyone, for that matter. Which means you don’t have to stick yourself to that wall if you don’t want to.”
Eliza stepped away from the wall, but didn’t approach him. “I don’t understand- what do you mean you can’t catch AV? No one but me has been in this room for almost three years because they said I’m highly contagious.”
“Oh, don’t worry, you are. Just not to me.”
“What does that mean?” Eliza inquired disbelievingly. In her opinion, this Jonah guy was at this very moment taking his final uninfected breath, especially if he kept coming closer.
Jonah took a few more steps toward her so that he was almost an arm’s length away. “It means,” he said, looking her directly in the eye. “That I have an offer to make you. Care to listen?”
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
WIP Wednesday
Oh... it's Wednesday... My mind has been all over the place lately, what with closing one show the other day and opening another next week. Eek! But that has nothing to do with the promise I made to you guys and to myself that I would post something every Wednesday. So, here you go. Some more Remembrance.
“Get up! Ruthie! Noah! Get up right now!”
Ruthie opened her eyes to find her nose a fraction of an inch away from the cinder block wall. Noah had sprawled out while he slept, claiming most of the bed as his own and forcing Ruthie to huddle close to the wall. She sat up to see her mother at the foot of her bed.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
Her mother was already folding the blanket Noah had dragged along with him the night before. “You need to get up and get dressed now. We didn’t bring a clock down with us and you will be late for school if you don’t hurry. Noah! Get up!” Mrs. Halpert pulled the blanket off of Ruthie’s bed and Ruthie felt the cold of the shelter steal over her. Noah must have too because he curled into a tighter ball in the middle of the bed, either still asleep or doing a very good job of ignoring their mother. She nudged him as she climbed over him and stepped onto the cold cement floor. Standing in the middle of the shelter, Ruthie realised that she didn’t know what to do next.
“Mum, can I go to my room to get some clothes?”
“No time,” her mother said hurriedly. “Your father and I took some things from your rooms last week in case this happened. Look in one of the boxes under the beds.”
Ruthie knelt down and peered under her bed. There were two boxes there. The first one was full of torches, tools, and other items they might need. She pushed that one back and pulled out the second one, which was full of clothes. She removed a set for Noah and tossed them on the bed as she searched for her own clothes. Her heart sank as she saw the frocks lying on the bottom of the box.
“Mum!” she cried, seeing the old worn fabric. “I can’t wear any of these!”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Ruthie,” her mother scolded. “I got them from your room.”
“Did you get them from the bottom drawer of my wardrobe?”
Mrs. Halpert was busy looking for something on one of the shelves. “Yes, I did. Why?”
“Those were to go to Annabel!” Ruthie said, naming her thirteen year old cousin. “They don’t fit me anymore!”
“Ruthie, we don’t have time for you to go up to your room to change,” her mother said impatiently. “Annabel’s not that much smaller than you, I’m sure they’ll be fine. Now please, get changed. Noah! Up now!”
As her little brother finally started to rise, Ruthie selected the biggest blouse and skirt she could find. She pulled them on and tried to adjust them as best she could. The skirt was a tad too short and the blouse pulled a little at her chest, but it was the best she could get at the moment.
“All right, your father’s got your school books,” Mrs. Halpert said when Noah was finally up and dressed. “Now hurry, or you really will be late. Go on, go.”
Ruthie and her brother each took their books from their father and exited the shelter, heading in the direction of school. As the pair made their way down the street, Ruthie continued to tug at the hem of her skirt – this was going to be a bother all day, she knew.
School was ten blocks away and Ruthie knew they were running very, very late. They would be lucky to arrive before the bell. She hurried a still – sleepy Noah down the street as fast as she could.
When they arrived at the school, the first thing Ruthie noticed was the energy in the air. While people were clustered in their usual groups, the conversations were hushed and the air seemed thick with anxiety. The air raid had put everyone on tenterhooks. Every now and then, a student would glance up at the sky nervously as though expecting a bomb to fall at any moment.
Ruthie looked around for her two best friends and spotted them standing by the entrance. After making sure Noah was headed in the direction of the lower school, Ruthie rushed over to them.
“You’re late,” Nora Savidge pointed out as Ruthie took her place next to her friends.
“We haven’t got a clock in our shelter yet,” Ruthie said. “We got up so late that I had to wear this old uniform that my mum had brought down – and she got it out of a box to hand down to my cousin!”
Annie Payson giggled as she straightened her own blazer. “I thought it looked a bit different today. Look, the patch still has the old crest on it. Make sure to avoid Mrs. Zaeler today – she’ll give you a demerit if she sees that.”
Ruthie groaned. “It isn’t even my fault!” Deciding she would worry about that later, she looked around at her fellow students, all talking intently. “Is everyone talking about the air raid last night?”
“Of course,” said Annie. “It was the scariest thing that’s ever happened! I didn’t sleep a wink all night; I thought our shelter would be hit any minute.”
“I was worried that a bomb would go off twenty streets over and the resulting wind would blow our shelter over,” Nora remarked wryly. “I think my dad just propped two pieces of metal against each other and put a door in front of them.”
“Your dad is a teacher,” Ruthie pointed out. “It’s not like he has ever had to do it before.”
Nora opened her mouth to respond, but before she could say anything, the bell rang and the students began to rush into the building, still chattering about what had happened the night before.
As Ruthie took her seat in the classroom, she noticed that the seat beside hers was empty. At first, she didn’t think much of it- it was not unusual for its occupant, Jimmy Henderson, to be too busy plying a prank to make it to class on time. But his seat was still empty when her teacher, Miss Whittaker, called the class to order.
“Class,” Miss Whittaker said, standing in front of her desk as her students took their seats again. “Miss Burns has an announcement she would like to make. Please give her your full attention.” Ruthie’s teacher stepped aside to give the school’s wide – girthed deputy headmistress the floor. The form rose and waited. Miss Burns was silent for a moment as she surveyed the students, her lips pursed and her stern eyebrows pinched together.
“You may be seated,” she said distractedly. “I am afraid I have some bad news, children,” she began. “As you must all be aware, we have been having air raid drills here at school for the past few months in case the building is attacked. Last night’s air raid gave you a taste of what could happen during school hours, and I do not doubt that many of you were frightened. In any emergency situation, some unfortunate things can come about, and I regret to inform you that such a thing happened during last night’s raid.”
The class was confused. While many of them had been anxious during the air raid, it was over now. What after effects could have a part in their lives?
“Several buildings were destroyed by the bombs that fell, one of them being the flats on Wannamaker Street. The Henderson family was a resident of this building.”
There were a few soft gasps as the class turned as one to stare at Jimmy’s empty desk. A heaviness seemed to fall over the room as the principal’s words sunk in.
“What happened to them, Miss Burns?” a girl named Evelyn asked softly. It was a mark of the seriousness of the situation that Miss Burns did not reprimand Evelyn for neglecting to raise her hand.
“I regret to say that, though Mr. and Mrs. Henderson and their youngest child were found unharmed, the authorities were unable to located James and his brother Arthur.”
“But they’re just… I don’t know, lost or something, right?” said a boy named Roger. “Maybe they ran to get help and couldn’t find their way home in the dark.”
Miss Burns’ mouth grew tight. “We can only hope that is the case, Mr. Jennings. There are people looking for the boys as well as a few others that have also gone missing, and you can be sure that if they are indeed still alive, they will be found.” With that, Miss Burns nodded to Miss Whittaker and left the room. But she did not take with her the grim silence that had fallen over the students as soon as she said the words “still alive”. Ruthie glanced again at Jimmy’s empty seat. She couldn’t seem to wrap her mind around the idea that someone she knew might really be gone forever. Could it be that this boy, this noisy, wise – cracking fourteen year old, had already reached the end of his life the night before? Was his body lying in wait of the search party? Or might he be gone completely, never to be found by anyone at all?
Ruthie shook her head, trying to rid it of these thoughts. Jimmy could take care of himself, she was sure of that. They would find him. By next week, she told herself, he’d be sitting next to her again, folding up paper airplanes in his lap and grinning that sideways smile of his. He would be, because Ruthie couldn’t accept anything else.
“Get up! Ruthie! Noah! Get up right now!”
Ruthie opened her eyes to find her nose a fraction of an inch away from the cinder block wall. Noah had sprawled out while he slept, claiming most of the bed as his own and forcing Ruthie to huddle close to the wall. She sat up to see her mother at the foot of her bed.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
Her mother was already folding the blanket Noah had dragged along with him the night before. “You need to get up and get dressed now. We didn’t bring a clock down with us and you will be late for school if you don’t hurry. Noah! Get up!” Mrs. Halpert pulled the blanket off of Ruthie’s bed and Ruthie felt the cold of the shelter steal over her. Noah must have too because he curled into a tighter ball in the middle of the bed, either still asleep or doing a very good job of ignoring their mother. She nudged him as she climbed over him and stepped onto the cold cement floor. Standing in the middle of the shelter, Ruthie realised that she didn’t know what to do next.
“Mum, can I go to my room to get some clothes?”
“No time,” her mother said hurriedly. “Your father and I took some things from your rooms last week in case this happened. Look in one of the boxes under the beds.”
Ruthie knelt down and peered under her bed. There were two boxes there. The first one was full of torches, tools, and other items they might need. She pushed that one back and pulled out the second one, which was full of clothes. She removed a set for Noah and tossed them on the bed as she searched for her own clothes. Her heart sank as she saw the frocks lying on the bottom of the box.
“Mum!” she cried, seeing the old worn fabric. “I can’t wear any of these!”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Ruthie,” her mother scolded. “I got them from your room.”
“Did you get them from the bottom drawer of my wardrobe?”
Mrs. Halpert was busy looking for something on one of the shelves. “Yes, I did. Why?”
“Those were to go to Annabel!” Ruthie said, naming her thirteen year old cousin. “They don’t fit me anymore!”
“Ruthie, we don’t have time for you to go up to your room to change,” her mother said impatiently. “Annabel’s not that much smaller than you, I’m sure they’ll be fine. Now please, get changed. Noah! Up now!”
As her little brother finally started to rise, Ruthie selected the biggest blouse and skirt she could find. She pulled them on and tried to adjust them as best she could. The skirt was a tad too short and the blouse pulled a little at her chest, but it was the best she could get at the moment.
“All right, your father’s got your school books,” Mrs. Halpert said when Noah was finally up and dressed. “Now hurry, or you really will be late. Go on, go.”
Ruthie and her brother each took their books from their father and exited the shelter, heading in the direction of school. As the pair made their way down the street, Ruthie continued to tug at the hem of her skirt – this was going to be a bother all day, she knew.
School was ten blocks away and Ruthie knew they were running very, very late. They would be lucky to arrive before the bell. She hurried a still – sleepy Noah down the street as fast as she could.
When they arrived at the school, the first thing Ruthie noticed was the energy in the air. While people were clustered in their usual groups, the conversations were hushed and the air seemed thick with anxiety. The air raid had put everyone on tenterhooks. Every now and then, a student would glance up at the sky nervously as though expecting a bomb to fall at any moment.
Ruthie looked around for her two best friends and spotted them standing by the entrance. After making sure Noah was headed in the direction of the lower school, Ruthie rushed over to them.
“You’re late,” Nora Savidge pointed out as Ruthie took her place next to her friends.
“We haven’t got a clock in our shelter yet,” Ruthie said. “We got up so late that I had to wear this old uniform that my mum had brought down – and she got it out of a box to hand down to my cousin!”
Annie Payson giggled as she straightened her own blazer. “I thought it looked a bit different today. Look, the patch still has the old crest on it. Make sure to avoid Mrs. Zaeler today – she’ll give you a demerit if she sees that.”
Ruthie groaned. “It isn’t even my fault!” Deciding she would worry about that later, she looked around at her fellow students, all talking intently. “Is everyone talking about the air raid last night?”
“Of course,” said Annie. “It was the scariest thing that’s ever happened! I didn’t sleep a wink all night; I thought our shelter would be hit any minute.”
“I was worried that a bomb would go off twenty streets over and the resulting wind would blow our shelter over,” Nora remarked wryly. “I think my dad just propped two pieces of metal against each other and put a door in front of them.”
“Your dad is a teacher,” Ruthie pointed out. “It’s not like he has ever had to do it before.”
Nora opened her mouth to respond, but before she could say anything, the bell rang and the students began to rush into the building, still chattering about what had happened the night before.
As Ruthie took her seat in the classroom, she noticed that the seat beside hers was empty. At first, she didn’t think much of it- it was not unusual for its occupant, Jimmy Henderson, to be too busy plying a prank to make it to class on time. But his seat was still empty when her teacher, Miss Whittaker, called the class to order.
“Class,” Miss Whittaker said, standing in front of her desk as her students took their seats again. “Miss Burns has an announcement she would like to make. Please give her your full attention.” Ruthie’s teacher stepped aside to give the school’s wide – girthed deputy headmistress the floor. The form rose and waited. Miss Burns was silent for a moment as she surveyed the students, her lips pursed and her stern eyebrows pinched together.
“You may be seated,” she said distractedly. “I am afraid I have some bad news, children,” she began. “As you must all be aware, we have been having air raid drills here at school for the past few months in case the building is attacked. Last night’s air raid gave you a taste of what could happen during school hours, and I do not doubt that many of you were frightened. In any emergency situation, some unfortunate things can come about, and I regret to inform you that such a thing happened during last night’s raid.”
The class was confused. While many of them had been anxious during the air raid, it was over now. What after effects could have a part in their lives?
“Several buildings were destroyed by the bombs that fell, one of them being the flats on Wannamaker Street. The Henderson family was a resident of this building.”
There were a few soft gasps as the class turned as one to stare at Jimmy’s empty desk. A heaviness seemed to fall over the room as the principal’s words sunk in.
“What happened to them, Miss Burns?” a girl named Evelyn asked softly. It was a mark of the seriousness of the situation that Miss Burns did not reprimand Evelyn for neglecting to raise her hand.
“I regret to say that, though Mr. and Mrs. Henderson and their youngest child were found unharmed, the authorities were unable to located James and his brother Arthur.”
“But they’re just… I don’t know, lost or something, right?” said a boy named Roger. “Maybe they ran to get help and couldn’t find their way home in the dark.”
Miss Burns’ mouth grew tight. “We can only hope that is the case, Mr. Jennings. There are people looking for the boys as well as a few others that have also gone missing, and you can be sure that if they are indeed still alive, they will be found.” With that, Miss Burns nodded to Miss Whittaker and left the room. But she did not take with her the grim silence that had fallen over the students as soon as she said the words “still alive”. Ruthie glanced again at Jimmy’s empty seat. She couldn’t seem to wrap her mind around the idea that someone she knew might really be gone forever. Could it be that this boy, this noisy, wise – cracking fourteen year old, had already reached the end of his life the night before? Was his body lying in wait of the search party? Or might he be gone completely, never to be found by anyone at all?
Ruthie shook her head, trying to rid it of these thoughts. Jimmy could take care of himself, she was sure of that. They would find him. By next week, she told herself, he’d be sitting next to her again, folding up paper airplanes in his lap and grinning that sideways smile of his. He would be, because Ruthie couldn’t accept anything else.
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
WIP Wednesday
I'm going to do something today that I don't think I've ever really done on this blog before- give you my current "final" copy of something. Though there is still a lot of work to be done on the following snippet, it's part of draft three of Remembrance, which, as of yesterday afternoon is the final product until I get my edits back.
Speaking of edits, since sending out my current draft of the novel to my friend, I haven't been able to stop thinking about it. I'm nervous. Really, really nervous. Because I know that he'll tell me whether it's good or not. And while I want that- ahhhh!
So anyway, enough of my rambling. Here's today WIP.
For two weeks, life went on as usual, which struck Ruthie as absurd. How could they all manage to forget what had begun just days before? How could they forget that every second, their lives were at risk?
She wondered, and yet she did it, too. She talked and laughed with Nora and Annie. She teased her brother. She complained about small things like homework and chores when people were making much greater sacrifices not so far away. And when she swore she saw Jimmy in the library and the soda shop and grocer’s, she told herself that it was just her imagination and looked in the other direction.
As much as everyone managed to return to their normal lives, however, there were reminders of the losses that had already been suffered all over the city. The buildings that had been hit were still in shambles. Ruthie overheard someone on the street say it could take months to clean up the wreckage, and that was only if no other buildings fell victim to the Germans. The air raid drills were constant and could happen at any moment. People were now using the underground as a make - shift shelter and sometimes, the people waiting down there had to sleep in the station overnight. Each time she walked home or to school or to the store or the cinema, Ruthie prayed that she would not have to run down to the tube station and take cover.
There were also the posters. Since the bombing, missing persons posters had gone up all over the city, tied to telephone poles and tree trunks, pinned to bulletin boards. Some had even been shoved through the Halperts’ mail slot so that when one of the family entered, they would see someone’s black and white photograph staring up at them from the floor. Ruthie always studied these blurry pictures closely. If she saw one of these people on the streets, she wanted to be able to recognize them. She did not know what she would do if this did happen one day – certainly shouting, “I found you!” or chasing after them would do no one any good. But this was a dilemma she had not yet faced. Though she tried to look at every face she passed, none of them matched those lost people in the pictures. She looked especially hard for Jimmy and Arthur Henderson. Her heart hurt every time she passed one of their flyers, with “HAVE YOU SEEN THESE CHILDREN?” written in large letters above the brothers’ smiling school photographs.
It was the pictures themselves that made the posters so upsetting. While the word ‘missing’ reminded one that that person was no longer at school or at work or sitting at the dinner table with their family, Ruthie was haunted by the grins, smirks, and shy smiles that looked out at her from the paper. When she looked at those faces, she remembered that these were past events – this person, this parent, child, brother, aunt, might not be smiling like that anymore. Whenever these thoughts came over Ruthie, she could not help picturing those people with scared expressions. What must they be feeling now? Or were they not feeling at all?
Speaking of edits, since sending out my current draft of the novel to my friend, I haven't been able to stop thinking about it. I'm nervous. Really, really nervous. Because I know that he'll tell me whether it's good or not. And while I want that- ahhhh!
So anyway, enough of my rambling. Here's today WIP.
For two weeks, life went on as usual, which struck Ruthie as absurd. How could they all manage to forget what had begun just days before? How could they forget that every second, their lives were at risk?
She wondered, and yet she did it, too. She talked and laughed with Nora and Annie. She teased her brother. She complained about small things like homework and chores when people were making much greater sacrifices not so far away. And when she swore she saw Jimmy in the library and the soda shop and grocer’s, she told herself that it was just her imagination and looked in the other direction.
As much as everyone managed to return to their normal lives, however, there were reminders of the losses that had already been suffered all over the city. The buildings that had been hit were still in shambles. Ruthie overheard someone on the street say it could take months to clean up the wreckage, and that was only if no other buildings fell victim to the Germans. The air raid drills were constant and could happen at any moment. People were now using the underground as a make - shift shelter and sometimes, the people waiting down there had to sleep in the station overnight. Each time she walked home or to school or to the store or the cinema, Ruthie prayed that she would not have to run down to the tube station and take cover.
There were also the posters. Since the bombing, missing persons posters had gone up all over the city, tied to telephone poles and tree trunks, pinned to bulletin boards. Some had even been shoved through the Halperts’ mail slot so that when one of the family entered, they would see someone’s black and white photograph staring up at them from the floor. Ruthie always studied these blurry pictures closely. If she saw one of these people on the streets, she wanted to be able to recognize them. She did not know what she would do if this did happen one day – certainly shouting, “I found you!” or chasing after them would do no one any good. But this was a dilemma she had not yet faced. Though she tried to look at every face she passed, none of them matched those lost people in the pictures. She looked especially hard for Jimmy and Arthur Henderson. Her heart hurt every time she passed one of their flyers, with “HAVE YOU SEEN THESE CHILDREN?” written in large letters above the brothers’ smiling school photographs.
It was the pictures themselves that made the posters so upsetting. While the word ‘missing’ reminded one that that person was no longer at school or at work or sitting at the dinner table with their family, Ruthie was haunted by the grins, smirks, and shy smiles that looked out at her from the paper. When she looked at those faces, she remembered that these were past events – this person, this parent, child, brother, aunt, might not be smiling like that anymore. Whenever these thoughts came over Ruthie, she could not help picturing those people with scared expressions. What must they be feeling now? Or were they not feeling at all?
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
WIP Wednesday
Some more Remembrance for you!
Fifteen minutes later, Ruthie and Annie stood alone in front of the cinema. A quick check inside told them that Nora was most definitely not there.
“Maybe she went home,” Annie proposed. “She might have thought we left and did the same.”
“Yes, you could be right,” Ruthie said, even though she didn’t believe it. Nora would not have left if she didn’t know her friends were safe. Where could she be?
Annie was keeping a remarkably cool head, given the situation. “Why don’t we go to her house and check? Then we can make sure she’s not waiting at one of our houses.”
Ruthie agreed and they set off. The cinema was not far from Annie and Nora’s street and soon they were knocking on the Savidge’s front door. Nora’s mother answered, opening the door to let the girls step into the foyer.
“Ruthie, Annie, what a nice surprise. Nora’s not here, I’m afraid. Wasn’t she meeting you two at the pictures?”
Ruthie’s heart sank at Mrs. Savidge’s light tone. Obviously she didn’t know what was going on – how could she?
“Are you girls all right? You look worried. Your families are all right aren’t they?”
They rushed to assure her that their families were well, but then both hesitated. Finally, Annie spoke up. “So… Nora hasn’t come back here during the last hour?”
Mrs. Savidge looked between her daughter’s friends. “No, she said the film wouldn’t be over until about half past five and that you girls might get a fizzy drink afterwards.” She saw the girls exchange glances. “Why? Did she leave the cinema and not come back?”
“No,” Ruthie said. “We had an air raid drill in the middle of the film and we all got separated. When we came up from the basement, we couldn’t find Nora.”
Mrs. Savidge had begun to look panicked. “Philip?” she called behind her. “Philip!”
Nora’s fourteen year old brother appeared at the top of the stairs. “What’s wrong, Mum?”
“Have you seen your sister since this morning?” Her voice was begging her son to say yes.
But Philip shook his head. “Sorry, Mum. I haven’t seen her since I left for practice this morning.”
“Oh, God…” Mrs. Savidge cried. “Where could she be?”
Ruthie tried to reassure her. “We haven’t checked our houses yet – she could still be at one of ours. We’ll ring you as soon as we know. Promise.”
Five minutes later, Ruthie hurried up the steps to her own house. “Nora!” she shouted as soon as she got in the door.
Her mother poked her head out of the front room. “Ruthie! Why are you shouting in the house?”
“I’m looking for Nora. Is she here? Please tell me she’s here,” Ruthie said without stopping for a breath, looking around and hoping that her friend would appear.
“No, she’s not here. What is the matter?” Mrs. Halpert now came fully out into the foyer, looking concerned.
“We had – there was an air raid drill at the cinema and we couldn’t find Nora afterwards. I have to call Annie. No, I have to call Mrs. Savidge. Phone – where is the phone?”
“It hasn’t moved from the kitchen, Ruthie. Now, sit down and calmly tell me -”
But Ruthie wasn’t feeling calm at all and she certainly was not going to sit down. She dashed to the phone in the kitchen and snatched up the receiver. For a second, she could not remember the Savidge’s number and her fingers fluttered nervously over the dial. Finally, she recalled it and spun it in. With each whir of the disk, she whispered, “Please... please… please…”
Mrs. Savidge picked up before the first ring had finished. “Ruthie?”
“It’s me, Mrs. Savidge. Have you heard from Annie?”
“Yes.” The woman’s voice grew tighter. “Nora wasn’t there. Is she – is she at your house?”
She didn’t want to say it. Her word was the final one and she didn’t want to give it. But she had to. “No, Mrs. Savidge,” she said, her heart heavy. “She’s not here.”
Nora’s mother let out a little moan on the other end of the line. “Where could she be?”
“Is there anywhere she might have gone?” Ruthie asked. “Could she have forgotten something at school yesterday and gone back to get it?”
“I don’t – I don’t think she did,” Mrs. Savidge said, and Ruthie could tell she was on the verge of tears “I – I have to go now, Ruthie. Thank you for your help.” She hurriedly hung up the phone.
Ruthie stood in the kitchen with the receiver pressed to her ear for a full minute after Mrs. Savidge had hung up, as if she were hoping she could change what she had just said. Only when Mrs. Halpert entered the room and gently took the receiver from her daughter’s hand did Ruthie sit down in one of the chairs at the table.
Mrs. Halpert pulled out the chair next to it and sat down as well. “Ruthie, what’s going on? Tell me.”
It took a moment for Ruthie to find her words. “Nora is… she’s missing.”
Mrs. Halpert was silent as she took this in. Then she said, “Are you sure?” Ruthie gestured toward the telephone, indicating that was what the call had been about.
“Oh, Ruthie,” Mrs. Halpert said, and stood from her chair to embrace her daughter. But Ruthie stood up, too, fending her off.
“I need to find her.”
“Ruthie…” her mother warned.
“No, I have to,” Ruthie said, pacing around in tight circles. “This is not just any missing person, Mum, this is Nora. How can you not understand that?”
“I do understand it, Ruthie, believe me, I do. But I will not having you putting yourself in danger to find her. If Nora has been taken by someone, do you think they will spare you if you get in their way? They won’t, and I will not allow you to put yourself in that situation.”
“Mum -”
“No! And if you try to do anything of the sort, I will make sure you can’t. Your father or I will escort you to school and back and you will not be allowed out of the house. Do you understand me? I am completely serious.” Ruthie was silent. “Ruth Ann, answer me!”
She did not answer her. Instead, she turned on her heel and ran upstairs to her room, slamming the door behind her in frustration. It was not her mother she was angry with, really – she knew that she had a reason for telling her what she had. She was not even frustrated with herself, for if she could search this very instant, she would. It was aggravation with the situation that was making her feel like this – trapped, desperate, short of breath. The trouble was that there was nothing she could do. She had no idea where to go or what to do even if she were allowed to search. She didn’t know if Nora was close or far away – by now, it could be either one. Had she been taken in by someone kind enough to help a girl alone, or was she even now fighting for her life? It was driving her mad not to know what was happening. She wished it were her instead of Nora that had been taken – then, at least she would know what was going on.
Fifteen minutes later, Ruthie and Annie stood alone in front of the cinema. A quick check inside told them that Nora was most definitely not there.
“Maybe she went home,” Annie proposed. “She might have thought we left and did the same.”
“Yes, you could be right,” Ruthie said, even though she didn’t believe it. Nora would not have left if she didn’t know her friends were safe. Where could she be?
Annie was keeping a remarkably cool head, given the situation. “Why don’t we go to her house and check? Then we can make sure she’s not waiting at one of our houses.”
Ruthie agreed and they set off. The cinema was not far from Annie and Nora’s street and soon they were knocking on the Savidge’s front door. Nora’s mother answered, opening the door to let the girls step into the foyer.
“Ruthie, Annie, what a nice surprise. Nora’s not here, I’m afraid. Wasn’t she meeting you two at the pictures?”
Ruthie’s heart sank at Mrs. Savidge’s light tone. Obviously she didn’t know what was going on – how could she?
“Are you girls all right? You look worried. Your families are all right aren’t they?”
They rushed to assure her that their families were well, but then both hesitated. Finally, Annie spoke up. “So… Nora hasn’t come back here during the last hour?”
Mrs. Savidge looked between her daughter’s friends. “No, she said the film wouldn’t be over until about half past five and that you girls might get a fizzy drink afterwards.” She saw the girls exchange glances. “Why? Did she leave the cinema and not come back?”
“No,” Ruthie said. “We had an air raid drill in the middle of the film and we all got separated. When we came up from the basement, we couldn’t find Nora.”
Mrs. Savidge had begun to look panicked. “Philip?” she called behind her. “Philip!”
Nora’s fourteen year old brother appeared at the top of the stairs. “What’s wrong, Mum?”
“Have you seen your sister since this morning?” Her voice was begging her son to say yes.
But Philip shook his head. “Sorry, Mum. I haven’t seen her since I left for practice this morning.”
“Oh, God…” Mrs. Savidge cried. “Where could she be?”
Ruthie tried to reassure her. “We haven’t checked our houses yet – she could still be at one of ours. We’ll ring you as soon as we know. Promise.”
Five minutes later, Ruthie hurried up the steps to her own house. “Nora!” she shouted as soon as she got in the door.
Her mother poked her head out of the front room. “Ruthie! Why are you shouting in the house?”
“I’m looking for Nora. Is she here? Please tell me she’s here,” Ruthie said without stopping for a breath, looking around and hoping that her friend would appear.
“No, she’s not here. What is the matter?” Mrs. Halpert now came fully out into the foyer, looking concerned.
“We had – there was an air raid drill at the cinema and we couldn’t find Nora afterwards. I have to call Annie. No, I have to call Mrs. Savidge. Phone – where is the phone?”
“It hasn’t moved from the kitchen, Ruthie. Now, sit down and calmly tell me -”
But Ruthie wasn’t feeling calm at all and she certainly was not going to sit down. She dashed to the phone in the kitchen and snatched up the receiver. For a second, she could not remember the Savidge’s number and her fingers fluttered nervously over the dial. Finally, she recalled it and spun it in. With each whir of the disk, she whispered, “Please... please… please…”
Mrs. Savidge picked up before the first ring had finished. “Ruthie?”
“It’s me, Mrs. Savidge. Have you heard from Annie?”
“Yes.” The woman’s voice grew tighter. “Nora wasn’t there. Is she – is she at your house?”
She didn’t want to say it. Her word was the final one and she didn’t want to give it. But she had to. “No, Mrs. Savidge,” she said, her heart heavy. “She’s not here.”
Nora’s mother let out a little moan on the other end of the line. “Where could she be?”
“Is there anywhere she might have gone?” Ruthie asked. “Could she have forgotten something at school yesterday and gone back to get it?”
“I don’t – I don’t think she did,” Mrs. Savidge said, and Ruthie could tell she was on the verge of tears “I – I have to go now, Ruthie. Thank you for your help.” She hurriedly hung up the phone.
Ruthie stood in the kitchen with the receiver pressed to her ear for a full minute after Mrs. Savidge had hung up, as if she were hoping she could change what she had just said. Only when Mrs. Halpert entered the room and gently took the receiver from her daughter’s hand did Ruthie sit down in one of the chairs at the table.
Mrs. Halpert pulled out the chair next to it and sat down as well. “Ruthie, what’s going on? Tell me.”
It took a moment for Ruthie to find her words. “Nora is… she’s missing.”
Mrs. Halpert was silent as she took this in. Then she said, “Are you sure?” Ruthie gestured toward the telephone, indicating that was what the call had been about.
“Oh, Ruthie,” Mrs. Halpert said, and stood from her chair to embrace her daughter. But Ruthie stood up, too, fending her off.
“I need to find her.”
“Ruthie…” her mother warned.
“No, I have to,” Ruthie said, pacing around in tight circles. “This is not just any missing person, Mum, this is Nora. How can you not understand that?”
“I do understand it, Ruthie, believe me, I do. But I will not having you putting yourself in danger to find her. If Nora has been taken by someone, do you think they will spare you if you get in their way? They won’t, and I will not allow you to put yourself in that situation.”
“Mum -”
“No! And if you try to do anything of the sort, I will make sure you can’t. Your father or I will escort you to school and back and you will not be allowed out of the house. Do you understand me? I am completely serious.” Ruthie was silent. “Ruth Ann, answer me!”
She did not answer her. Instead, she turned on her heel and ran upstairs to her room, slamming the door behind her in frustration. It was not her mother she was angry with, really – she knew that she had a reason for telling her what she had. She was not even frustrated with herself, for if she could search this very instant, she would. It was aggravation with the situation that was making her feel like this – trapped, desperate, short of breath. The trouble was that there was nothing she could do. She had no idea where to go or what to do even if she were allowed to search. She didn’t know if Nora was close or far away – by now, it could be either one. Had she been taken in by someone kind enough to help a girl alone, or was she even now fighting for her life? It was driving her mad not to know what was happening. She wished it were her instead of Nora that had been taken – then, at least she would know what was going on.
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
WIP Wednesday
That whoosh you just heard? That was my sigh of relief.
I got home from work and the gym around three o'clock yesterday and I was determined that I was going to sit down and work on my novel revisions. I was quite frustrated because I was itching to work on it, but a mixture of fear and writer's block (or perhaps fear-induced writer's block) was only allowing me to open the document and stare at the screen blankly. I proceeded to do this for about four hours until suddenly, something in my mind cleared.
I guess a big part of the problem was that I wanted to make BIG changes RIGHT THEN to the novel. And while I did start planning out what some of those big changes might be, I started out much smaller- fixing a word here, tweaking a delivery there. Getting back in touch with the characters I haven't written about since November.
After working at these small adjustments, finally som of the larger peices started to fall into place. My novel needs to be expanded in the worst way; I'm only realising now how much I only have the skeleton of the story. This is both good and bad, for reasons I think I'll save for another blog. For now, here's the first small snippet of my NaNo novel, Remembrance. This is one of the parts I've not touched yet; I have a post it in the margins that reads "MORE, MORE, MORE!" so I hope to soon be expanding on the points that are briefly mentioned.
For a bit of background, my main character Ruthie has gone into a house owned by a possibly crazy couple because she got a clue that her friend Nora was being kept there with a bunch of other kids. This turns out to be true and at this moment, Nora is acquainting Ruthie with the inner workings of the house.
Nora led Ruthie down a make – shift cinderblock hallway and to a doorless threshold. The room inside was small but not cramped, painted a soft yellow and trimmed with flowered wallpaper. Nora’s hairbrush and a wash basin sat on the small night table. Slippers were tucked neatly under the bed and a quilt lay across the end. The sight of these touches made Ruthie stop short in the doorway.
“Are you all right?” Nora asked, rushing to her side. “Ruthie? What’s the matter?”
Ruthie could just shake her head, leaning against the cold stone of the entrance.
“Ruthie, talk to me. Are you dizzy? Do you feel like you’re going to faint? Here, sit down.” Nora grabbed her arm and tried to pull her to the small ottoman in the corner. But Ruthie couldn’t move. Or, more accurately, she wouldn’t move. Seeing those homey things, those little Nora touches, showed her something she had not expected, something terrifying. She swallowed, trying to calm herself down.
“Nora,” she said slowly, dreading the answer. “When did you give up hope?”
“What?” her friend looked confused. “What are you talking about?”
“This room … it’s like you actually live here.”
“Well … I do. I mean, I sleep here, but – what do you mean?”
“You’ve settled here, Nora, do you realise that? When did you begin to think you might never go home again?” She hadn’t realised it when it was happening, but her volume had risen considerably.
Nora took her hand off of Ruthie’s arm like she had been burned. “Ruthie, you’re scaring me. I know waking up in that room like that was not fun, but you came here voluntarily – to help the rest of us who weren’t so lucky. What are you worried about? They take good care of us here. And if things go as you say, we could be leaving soon.”
Ruthie could have stomped her foot. “It’s not me I’m worried about, it’s you! You talk about Gloria like she’s a nutcase, but looking at this place, you may not be far behind. When did you start referring in your head to this room as ‘my room’?”
“Stop it!” Nora spat. Her concerned look had been replaced by a glare. “You don’t know what you’re talking about at all. You have no idea how things work here. You came here by choice – Danny and Suzanne told you what to expect. You have no clue what it’s like to find yourself trapped down here, realising too late that you were too stupid or naïve to save yourself or even suspect what was going on. You think we don’t try to get out of here every day? Sure, the Gradys feed us and clothe us, but we don’t leave this basement. I haven’t seen sunlight since the day we went to the cinema. I have three dresses. We’re all miserable down here, except for Gloria. We all want to get out, but we’ve tried everything. And after weeks of trying every single thing you can think of, you start to wonder if you’ll ever find a way. So I haven’t given up hope, Ruthie, but I’ve started to be realistic. This place is like an interminable prison, and unless you really can get all of us out of here, we just might be stuck down here for who knows how long. I’d love to hear any plan you have after being here for half an hour. Because when you’re here for weeks with no escape possibility in sight, you can’t help but start to think that you might never get out. It’s not like we want to believe it, but when it comes down to it, should we spend all our time crying about not being home? Or should we face the reality and realise that this could very well be it and try to make the best of it?”
Despite Nora’s speech, Ruthie was still dumbfounded. “So you’re just going to forget your parents and everything else and become Nora Grady, just like Gloria?”
“Stop it!” Nora said again, and now she was shouting. “You have no idea what you’re talking about!” She looked like she wanted to throw Ruthie out of the room and slam the door in her face, but that was not an option. Instead, she turned her back on Ruthie and busied herself rifling through her nightstand drawer. Ruthie was still frustrated by Nora’s ridiculous standpoint, but at the same time, she realised that she also didn’t have anyone else.
“Nora?” she ventured.
“Just go away,” came the hard reply.
I got home from work and the gym around three o'clock yesterday and I was determined that I was going to sit down and work on my novel revisions. I was quite frustrated because I was itching to work on it, but a mixture of fear and writer's block (or perhaps fear-induced writer's block) was only allowing me to open the document and stare at the screen blankly. I proceeded to do this for about four hours until suddenly, something in my mind cleared.
I guess a big part of the problem was that I wanted to make BIG changes RIGHT THEN to the novel. And while I did start planning out what some of those big changes might be, I started out much smaller- fixing a word here, tweaking a delivery there. Getting back in touch with the characters I haven't written about since November.
After working at these small adjustments, finally som of the larger peices started to fall into place. My novel needs to be expanded in the worst way; I'm only realising now how much I only have the skeleton of the story. This is both good and bad, for reasons I think I'll save for another blog. For now, here's the first small snippet of my NaNo novel, Remembrance. This is one of the parts I've not touched yet; I have a post it in the margins that reads "MORE, MORE, MORE!" so I hope to soon be expanding on the points that are briefly mentioned.
For a bit of background, my main character Ruthie has gone into a house owned by a possibly crazy couple because she got a clue that her friend Nora was being kept there with a bunch of other kids. This turns out to be true and at this moment, Nora is acquainting Ruthie with the inner workings of the house.
Nora led Ruthie down a make – shift cinderblock hallway and to a doorless threshold. The room inside was small but not cramped, painted a soft yellow and trimmed with flowered wallpaper. Nora’s hairbrush and a wash basin sat on the small night table. Slippers were tucked neatly under the bed and a quilt lay across the end. The sight of these touches made Ruthie stop short in the doorway.
“Are you all right?” Nora asked, rushing to her side. “Ruthie? What’s the matter?”
Ruthie could just shake her head, leaning against the cold stone of the entrance.
“Ruthie, talk to me. Are you dizzy? Do you feel like you’re going to faint? Here, sit down.” Nora grabbed her arm and tried to pull her to the small ottoman in the corner. But Ruthie couldn’t move. Or, more accurately, she wouldn’t move. Seeing those homey things, those little Nora touches, showed her something she had not expected, something terrifying. She swallowed, trying to calm herself down.
“Nora,” she said slowly, dreading the answer. “When did you give up hope?”
“What?” her friend looked confused. “What are you talking about?”
“This room … it’s like you actually live here.”
“Well … I do. I mean, I sleep here, but – what do you mean?”
“You’ve settled here, Nora, do you realise that? When did you begin to think you might never go home again?” She hadn’t realised it when it was happening, but her volume had risen considerably.
Nora took her hand off of Ruthie’s arm like she had been burned. “Ruthie, you’re scaring me. I know waking up in that room like that was not fun, but you came here voluntarily – to help the rest of us who weren’t so lucky. What are you worried about? They take good care of us here. And if things go as you say, we could be leaving soon.”
Ruthie could have stomped her foot. “It’s not me I’m worried about, it’s you! You talk about Gloria like she’s a nutcase, but looking at this place, you may not be far behind. When did you start referring in your head to this room as ‘my room’?”
“Stop it!” Nora spat. Her concerned look had been replaced by a glare. “You don’t know what you’re talking about at all. You have no idea how things work here. You came here by choice – Danny and Suzanne told you what to expect. You have no clue what it’s like to find yourself trapped down here, realising too late that you were too stupid or naïve to save yourself or even suspect what was going on. You think we don’t try to get out of here every day? Sure, the Gradys feed us and clothe us, but we don’t leave this basement. I haven’t seen sunlight since the day we went to the cinema. I have three dresses. We’re all miserable down here, except for Gloria. We all want to get out, but we’ve tried everything. And after weeks of trying every single thing you can think of, you start to wonder if you’ll ever find a way. So I haven’t given up hope, Ruthie, but I’ve started to be realistic. This place is like an interminable prison, and unless you really can get all of us out of here, we just might be stuck down here for who knows how long. I’d love to hear any plan you have after being here for half an hour. Because when you’re here for weeks with no escape possibility in sight, you can’t help but start to think that you might never get out. It’s not like we want to believe it, but when it comes down to it, should we spend all our time crying about not being home? Or should we face the reality and realise that this could very well be it and try to make the best of it?”
Despite Nora’s speech, Ruthie was still dumbfounded. “So you’re just going to forget your parents and everything else and become Nora Grady, just like Gloria?”
“Stop it!” Nora said again, and now she was shouting. “You have no idea what you’re talking about!” She looked like she wanted to throw Ruthie out of the room and slam the door in her face, but that was not an option. Instead, she turned her back on Ruthie and busied herself rifling through her nightstand drawer. Ruthie was still frustrated by Nora’s ridiculous standpoint, but at the same time, she realised that she also didn’t have anyone else.
“Nora?” she ventured.
“Just go away,” came the hard reply.
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