Did you think I disappeared? I've gone almost two weeks without blogging. I've never gone so long without posting something. But the thing is, I've racked my brain for something and come up with nothing. And who wants to read about nothing? Not me.
Tonight I rewrote the beginning of a book that existed for 9,000 words before my current WIP won. Really, I wrote both books side-by-side to give both an equal chance, but Pieces of Moon won. Some days I ask why.
I'm posting my new beginning so we can play a game called Name That Real-Life Event. We all know that our own lives influence our fiction. So what is fiction?
And what is fact?
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Every teenage girl has an ugly-face day once in awhile. So said Claryse my first day of high school--after I woke up with my nose too long and my eyes too close together. "No matter how pretty you are, Emmaline, some mornings you will wake up, look in the mirror, and not like your face. And that's as sure as meatloaf on Friday nights."
But this morning was more than an ugly-face day. I stumbled into the wood-paneled bathroom my sister and I shared with a five year-old tornado, took one look in our streaky mirror, and screamed.
And since I was the first one up, I screamed again,
The door whipped open, and Claryse stood in the hall with one bunny slipper raised over her head. Her little rosebud mouth dropped open as the slipper plopped to the floor. "Why is your face blue, Emmaline?"
I picked up our little brother's Very Berry Toothpaste and turned on my sister. "Why do you think my face is blue?"
Claryse snatched the tube from my hand and groaned. "You were supposed to use regular old, dye-free toothpaste."
I snatched it back and hard, but I really wanted to fling it at her perfect dye-free face. "You forgot that detail when you shared your pimple cure-all with me last night."
Claryse pinched her lips together, leaned over, and gingerly lifted her slipper off the ground. "Well," she said, turning back to her bedroom. "Your pimples are gone so it looks like it worked."
I held back another scream because three screams in one morning might be too many. My pimples were gone, but Freshman Council elections were that day. And nobody was going to elect a Smurf.