Happy Holidays everyone. This is the only Blog Chain post for December. Shaun started us off and decided to embarrass us a little. Here’s his question:
What is the silliest thing from a book or short story you’ve written, and why? It can be a line or a paragraph or a whole page. Anything that you look back at and go, “Say what?”
Wow…this is a really hard one for me. Not because I haven’t written a ton of junk…trust me, I have. I just don’t keep any of it. Seriously, not one thing. I write stories or novels. Edit or delete them. Period.
And my writing exercises that I do in between projects – yeah, I don’t keep those either.
So this post made me search….and search….and search.
And after days and days (since December 1st actually), I finally found something to post. So, here it is…completely unedited, just as it looked the day I wrote it last May (part of a daily writing thing I was committed to at the time). It has no title, and is just, well, trash-can bound…
I read the email again, staring at the screen in disbelief. She was leaving. In two weeks. I closed her email, only to open it within moments, the words cutting into me as I read them for the millionth time.
Jannie – Can you believe it? They want me. They really want me. For the cover. I have to leave next week.
This is really it. I’m finally going to make it! Everything we always talked about. Gosh, I can’t even think straight. Call me, ‘kay.
My eyes blurred the words, willing it to all be a mistake. Desperate to believe that she wouldn’t leave.
But I knew she had to. And I couldn’t blame here. I would do the same in her shoes.
Aisha was a special girl. She had exotic features, at least that’s what the agency said. Dark wavy hair that fell to her shoulders and piercing blue, almond-shaped eyes. Unnatural. Special.
The agency couldn’t wait to book her on jobs, even if she had no experience. They said her Special looks would make up for the time photographers would have to spend with her. Funny thing is, Aisha never thought of herself as Special. That was part of her charm. She thought she could make her dreams happen if she just worked hard enough.
I knew different.
And so did every agent we ever met.
Like Aisha, I wanted a shot at a cover too. Except I wasn’t anything special. Sure I had the height. And the right build. But I looked just like every other six-foot, skinny, blond-haired, blue-eyed wannabe model. Every, Single. One.
Nothing special. Not like Aisha.
So I shouldn’t have been surprised at the email. I mean, we both went to the casting call. I saw how they looked at her, clamored over her book, took extra pictures. I knew she would get this job.
And her career would sky-rocket.
My heart pounded in my chest, fear consuming me as I stared at her email again. Her news wasn’t unexpected. I planned for it. Waited for the day when she would get her big break. Leave. And yet, now that the day was here – now that she knew she’d make it to the big leagues – I panicked.
Aisha met on a casting call four months ago. We both needed each other then, for moral support and advice. Since then, we built our books together, sought agents together, and even went on a few jobs together. We shared the same dream.
To be a covergirl.
Truthfully, I always needed her more than she needed me. Oh, she would say otherwise – say that we were well matched, that she needed me too. But, I knew the truth. I knew that I needed her the way I needed air.
And I knew she would make it. That she was Special.
And I wasn’t.
Now that she would grace the cover of Sport’s Illustrated, our paths would change. She wouldn’t need me at anymore. Not that she ever needed me at all. Her new world wouldn’t welcome me.
I would be alone. My dreams, broken.
And that scared me even more than her leaving.
Well, there you go…don’t say I didn’t warn you! For another look at our “purple prose” writing adventures, check out the amazing, self proclaimed Princess of Da Purple Prose Kat (who posted yesterday), and Sarah who posts tomorrow!
Have a great holiday everyone.