Nina

One of the most startling realities of the situation was, when investigated more closely, there really wasn’t anything so special about Nina. To pin her up against a board and dissect her features piece by piece, like the anatomizing of a rare species of butterfly, would reveal a number of human qualities: blond hair that frizzes against either side of her scalp, a pale complexion whose pinkish pallidity makes her lips difficult to distinguish from the rest of her face, and an average height that is often disguised by moderately-heeled ankle boots. Overall, as a creature evaluated behind an objective barrier that excludes all remnants of human inclinations, she was really quite ordinary. However, remove, the boundary (if such a thing could ever exist), and the complications of emotion interfere with the picture.

Firstly, she was the “new girl”. I’m sure that regardless of stature or aesthetics, being the fresh face in a sea of uninteresting people whose particularities have long since melded into unrecognized and commonplace features can only serve you well. However, it wasn’t only this new sense of arrival that drew our eyes to her like hungry moths to a luminous flame; it was also her command of attention.

She had no shyness–not even a drop of self-consciousness–in her warm-blooded body. She was bold and unapologetic. She would laugh loudly at inappropriate jokes, a spew of giggles that unraveled in spurts of endearing raspiness and high-pitched chortles. If she didn’t like the way someone was acting, she’d roll her eyes and say, “For the love of God.” Taken aback by her confidence, anybody would stop mid-sentence, with eyes widened with sudden awareness of self that was inextinguishable. Nina’s legs sprawled, uninhibited, underneath the desk. Boys whose legs usually sat, wide-kneed and unapologetic, suddenly drew in with timidity. Nina had a possession of authority, but seemed completely unaware of it.

Because of this, her name spread around the lips of everyone and anyone who had met her. Sometimes, it would be a mere topic of conversation, you’ll never believe what Nina said today, and was typically met with a falsetto spew of laughter that rang with slight envy and amazement at whatever they had found amusing in her that day. Other times, it would be coiled in hushed conversation, whose content would remain behind drawn curtains, did you hear what Nina did, and bore the jealousy of girls who can’t stand to see someone else’s confidence illuminate the lack of their own.

I watched her carefully, myself. Fortunate enough to have classes with her, I had a healthy spread of time in which I could indulge the corner of my curious eye with observation. I was startled when she entered class, in shirts whose hems hung just above her stomach. I studied her closely for signs of self-consciousness of the line of pale skin that banded her waist like the sun-bleached ring that appears on stones collected from the beach. I was confounded by the fact that she didn’t seem to hide herself. Her body lied languorously in her desk, limbs sprawling, hair spread across her shoulders. She wasn’t like the other girls whose clothing hung around their bodies–revealing a glimpse of a thin shoulder here, a peep of exposed waistline there–whose arms probed their stomachs nervously and gently pulled folds of their clothing out from their frame as they spoke. When Nina raised her hand, she didn’t bring one hand to her waist and one arm up, halfway, hovering. She thrust her arm all the way up in the air and if her hand wasn’t noticed promptly enough, she just spoke.

I watched her with awe as she gnawed on the rim of water bottle. I smiled to myself when she swore loudly when the teacher moved to collect last night’s homework and how nobody seemed to care. Not even the teachers penalized her, so hypnotized by her confidence were they: just like the rest of us. Amazing. I watched her with a gleaming mixture of pride, you can do it, and amazement, how do you do it, and a sliver of hope that toyed in the back of my mind, I wish I could do it.

A little something something

Inspired my experience in middle/elementary school. Middle school girls may not be physical fighters, but they are the meanest back-stabbing letter-writing people on the planet. I thought this would be a funny take on it 🙂

 

The Formal Correspondence of Two Fierce Arch Rivals

 

Dear Evelyn,
You look like a monkey and you PB & J breath smells worse.
Go eat your bug-infested sandwiches somewhere else than my lunch table next time.
Yours falsely,
Elizabeth

 

Dear Elizabeth,
Glad you had to write me a note to get your threats and insults out. It’s good for the heart to journal. But anyway, I wouldn’t eat at your lunch table if you paid me a billion dollars. So back off.
Yours hatefully,
Evie (people stopped calling me Evelyn in the third grade)

Dear “Evie” AKA Evelyn,
You are kidding yourself. I’m getting a hunch from those out-of-style purple corduroys that you’d take any money someone tried to give you. So don’t try that one.
Insincerely,
Elizabeth

 

Dear Elizabeth,
Those out-of-style purple corduroys you’re so busy hating on are actually from my mom’s clothing store. And you wouldn’t go so low as dissing someone’s mom, would you?
All the worst wishes,
Evie
p.s. Jacob Cooper said that he hated you in the locker room yesterday

 

Dear Evelyn,
You’re mom works at a department store on Fourth Street, everybody knows that. And Jessie said that Ami overheard that Leah knew from Abigail that Jacob Cooper liked me. So there.
Forever not yours,
Elizabeth

 

Dear Elizabeth,
I actually wore khakis today, so I do not wear those pants everyday, thank you very much. And Abigail told Jessie that she heard from Emma that Jacob Cooper specifically told Sofie that he would never sit next to you on the bus in a million years.
Take care,  (of that zit on your forehead)
Evie. It’s Evie.

 

Story Book

WARNING: THIS IS A LONG BLOG POST. BUT PLEASE STICK WITH ME AND READ IT BECAUSE I PROMISE YOU IT IS WORTH IT.

Okay, so I started this book a long time ago and it begins in the natural format “blah blah blah was not a regular blah blah blah”. I was going to change that but I enjoyed the way it reflected the main character, Claritin (don’t judge, it goes with the character.) The main character is definitely on my favorite-character list that I have created.

Others on that list include Victoir, Azami, Acheron, Gabriel, and of course the beloved Rebecca Rosen. These are characters I hope you will get to know and love, too. (Or hate. Ha.)

This book was inspired by a dream. Here’s the plot: Guy goes on adventure chapter by chapter (in a story book). If he stumbles upon something that kinda-sort reveals what happens a few chapters ahead and he thinks too much about it, the happening occurs right then and there and screws up the story. So the ending comes out different. And all he’s trying to do is get through the story without any trouble….

Some background on Claritin Hubert. He is a funny kid. I absolutely love this character.  (In a way he reminds me of a snarky Peter Pan.) He loves reading and adventures and overall he is very old fashioned.  I think I intended this book to be set in the “olden days”, but I think I’d want to throw in something kind of crazy like cell phones. I’m weird like that.

Next, you hear a fragment about a girl named Metallica. OH jeez, I love her to death but I never did much character development. She was supposed to be this defiant, super cool girl that Claritin was gonna have a wee bit of a crush on. When I picked the name “Metallica”, I envisioned a teenage girl with short black hair, maybe in spikes or something kinda funky like that, with heavy eye liner and lots of  jewelry, fishnet arm warmers and crazy goth stuff like that. But no: I wanted Metallica to be a toned-down version of goth. Instead, I’m thinkin’ some crazy black hair, eye liner, maybe, but a regular jeans and a cut-up T-shirt. Leave a comment if you have some other visions for Metallica.

OK, now I’m sorry for putting you through that endless crap, FINALLY you can read the tiny bit that I’ve actually written. I need some inspiration dudes and I think that character development helped a lot. Later a character Alex comes into the story, maybe brother of Metallica, and I need some cool ideas for him so let me know if you have any ideas!

DRUM ROLL PLEASE:

Chapter 1: A wish, a deal, and a transformation

Ok, if you’re going to read this, you’re going to have to learn something right away.

Claritin Hubert was not a regular boy. Sure, he had regular brown hair and regular green eyes. Regular favorite subjects and regular favorite colors (blue and green.) Regular grades and regular favorite sports.

    But he was not a regular boy.

Why isn’t he regular? You’re asking. Get on with it, you’re complaining. Well shut up and listen because I’m going to tell you.

    See, Claritin made a wish. He made a wish that if he could get his dreams, he would do anything. Cuz ya know? He was bored. Really bored. Everyday he went to the same old school with the same old people. Learned the same old thing and ate the same old lunch. Went home to the same old house and had the same old dinner.
Sure, you’re thinking. Everyone gets bored. But why doesn’t he pack himself a different lunch? Or read a darn book?

Because Claritin (though he loved books) sought adventure. And nothing (and I mean nothing) would console him, even a good book. It’s true.
So Claritin’s dream was a life full of adventure. And one night, he stayed up late enough to see a meteor shower for some excitement.

“Make a wish,” urged his father, a husky-voiced man with a frank little debonair beard.
So Claritin obeyed. So he closed his eyes and wished on a very bright shooting star. (What’s his wish?) His wish was that someone would hear his wish: He would do anything in order to get his dream.
Well someone did  hear his wish. Someone called Metallica heard it. And she was ready to offer him a deal.

NOW: here’s your treat if you paid attention throughout the whole thing. Try this website out it you’re a writer: soyouwriter.swankivy.com.

Its so funny and it’s true ❤