Here's what's happening in my writing world. I'm currently working on a teenage witch series. I'm still super excited about it, which is good because I plan on writing about five of them. But I'm not super excited about my first line. And first lines are important. So, here's the first bit. If you can think of a better first line, I'd love to hear it. The first three chapters in all their unedited glory can be found here.work-in-progress-share
Rage
is like that. It builds up inside of you, like pressure in a teapot, until
finally when the steam is so hot, so big, you let go—because really, there
isn’t another choice. And everyone lets go differently. Some use body language—tight
lips, a simple eye-roll. Some make noise and throw things against the wall.
Others swear and name call. A few actually become violent, and throw punches or
people.
Some
of us burn stuff.
Although,
not always intentionally.
It
happened in Biology when Troy, the kid that liked to chew paper, blinked at me
through his Stephen Hawking glasses and told me that he would be honored to go
the dance with me. If it had just been Troy, I wouldn’t have been so mad, but
Troy was the final paper-chewer that blew my cool—literally. Earlier that day,
I’d learned that I had supposedly also asked Harrison, the kid that wore a
Justin Bieber button on the lapel of school blazer, and Frankel, the lead
singer of the Wanna-be Lounge Lizards, a band that serenaded the Hartly
cafeteria every Friday. Three dates to Homecoming. I didn’t even want one.
And
so when I found out Melissa Blankley was to blame, I blew it. Literally. And
everything caught fire.
Don’t
ask me how. Nothing like that had ever happened to me before.
And
because it was so frightening, I hope that nothing ever happens like that
again.
