Happy Monday. Or, as I see it, a chance for a do-over. Last week pretty much sucked. I’m not a huge fan of that word, but it describes a week that I accomplished almost nothing, I fought with my husband, the dog irritated me and I failed at writing any significant masterpiece. It just seemed to be one big mess after another. SO… today, I start again.
I hate even calling it a novel at this point. It’s not very long…yet. But I have big aspirations for it. I’ve written many scenes/chapters but it isn’t coming together. I’m fighting my own low self-esteem and inner negative thoughts as I try to write it. It’s a young adult story based very loosely on my own childhood. Really, it takes someone like me, as a teenager, and she learns some of the lessons it took me almost forty years to learn. Do you know how hard that is to cram into a novel? Writing is hard. Here’s an excerpt for your perusal. I hope that I’ll get some good feedback from this (hint, hint).
Beth grabs my sleeve and drags me inside the office. My back breaks out in a heavy sweat—so much for pretending to be fearless. Suddenly, my hoodie is a bit too warm for comfort. She pulls me down to a crouching position with the rest of her outlaws. We duck-walk our way behind the administrator’s desk, seeking cover in case someone else walks by the glass-fronted office. There isn’t much space under the desk and it’s pretty dark without lights. I feel Jonah’s warm body press close to mine, seeking his portion of the space away from potential prying eyes. Despite being a fugitive now, I realize he smells pretty nice. Like he’s just taken a shower. It’s a soothing scent and I close my eyes for a moment wishing I was back in my warm, comfy bed.
Then I feel a hand on my thigh.
“HEY!” I yell.
“Shush!!” Beth hisses, “What the heck, Em? Are you trying to get us found out?”
“Someone had his hand on my thigh!” I hiss back, staring a hole at, or in the direction of Jonah.
“Sorry,” Adam says. I turn to glare in his general direction instead. “Just thought ‘if not now, when’ you know?” he says. Even in the dim light I can see his shoulders half shrug and a small smirk cross his features.
Beth slaps her hand on her forehead and says, “Really Adam? Get a grip. She’ll let you feel her up later. We need to get the test answers and get out of here.”
“What do you mean I’ll let him feel me… wait… what test answers?”
Beth is already crawling quickly across the office floor towards the main computer desk and I follow my “protector,” if only to get away from additional prying hands. There was a moment that I was flattered that it might be Jonah with his hand on my thigh. But even then, it would have been moving a bit too fast for me. Especially given our current situation. This was no time for shenanigans… other than the current shenanigans.
The floor feels gross against my palms. My germophobe tendencies suddenly kick into high gear.
“What do you think is on this floor, Beth?” I whisper, quickly forgetting the danger or my potential love interest, cringing instead at the thought of leftover puke residue, bits and pieces of someone’s Chinese take-out, or the dog poop someone carried in on their shoes grinding into the crevices of my outstretched hands.
Her fingers fly over the keyboard, typing in various words, trying to find the right password. Now the mystery residue from the floor is all over that keyboard too.
I fight a wave of nausea. This is probably why I’m not as adventurous as Beth.
So… whadda think? Comments please! You might make my week. 😉