Okay...first the breaking news....
We had a snow day yesteday!
Yeah, big deal, right? My Christmas break was extended one more day. It is a big deal because I was able to finish my manuscript edits!!! I wrote like a mad woman and sent the book off around 9:30 last night. Here's to hoping Lina likes the changes and we can start subbing soon!
In other news...
Nathan Bransford is having a Teen Diary Contest to celebrate the future release of his client’s book The Secret Year. The rules are simple…you may enter one 500 word or less diary post by a teenager. My main character, Kate, keeps a blog diary, so I thought I’d take one of the deleted scenes from my book and give it some new life by entering it into Nathan’s contest.
I’m posting two of Kate’s entries, although I’m only allowed to enter one. This is where you come in. What entry should I go with? Which do you like best? Please share your view in my comments. I only have until tomorrow to enter!
I rolled his name around on my tongue like a candy.
Sticking it in the corner of my mouth to preserve its sweet stickiness.
His name left a taste in my mouth, a whisper on my lips, a thin thread floating around my head and evaporating
into the air.
It was unnerving what the mere thought of this name could do.
The name of a boy I had hardly really talked to until last night.
The name of a boy who other girls laid claim to, his name existing on their shiny strawberry glossed lips as they laughed along with him.
The name of a boy who might not ever know anything besides just my name.
Who might never know who I am besides my name.
But maybe I could change that.
I could find a way to make sure Jack Blane remembered my name as long as I knew his.
People came and went to the door of our house every day and I had never paid any attention.
The paper boy missed the door each morning, usually leaving the rolled up paper in our bushes somewhere, a treasure hunt each morning for my dad in his ratty bathrobe and bare feet.
The mailman slid letters through our mail slot, leaving envelopes, bills and glossy pamphlets scattered all over the cool tiles of our house.
The meter reader knocked once a month, asking to be let into the garage so he could read the amount of energy we had consumed.
Packages were delivered, flyers for lawn care services were stuck in our door handles and cookies were sold by green suited Girl Scouts.
People coming to the door were normal to us, an interruption usually forgotten a few minutes later.
At least, it was normal until Brett left for Iraq.
Then, suddenly the door that had once seemed so mundane and normal now seemed to hold a sense of dread. Every knock, every footstep coming up our walk or shadow behind the curtain became a question of uncertainty, a messenger of fear.
Every stranger elicited an unspoken question in our mind, a pause in our day, our breaths, and our hearts…putting everything on hold until we opened the door and expelled our breath in a long slow sigh of relief.
Until the one day when our breaths didn’t come back, the day when the shadow warped behind the glass of our front door caused me to fall to my knees, gasping for a breath I could not catch.*
*This is a deleted scene. I promise it does not ruin my book at all. The plot is different now, so don’t go thinking you know what is going to happen!