In the spirit of election day, I present to you, my friends, a choice. I am contemplating three different novels for my next writing endeavor. I have started all three, and would like you to vote on which one Ill do. Be warned, theres a very good chance I wont start the novel until National Novel Writing Month in November. Thanks, Brianas Fan Club! Option A: Mama wasn’t bad at cooking, not really, she was just bad at sitting still. One of my brothers or sisters would shout “Mama, look!” and she’d turn away from the stove to see a magic trick or help finish a new dress for a doll. Then she wouldn’t make it back to the kitchen until black smoke set off the shrill alarm warning her of the disaster her dinner had become. She would jump up and run back to the kitchen, serving us the charred remnants later that night. She always tried to look remorseful but we all knew she’d rather be sitting on the floor surrounded by building blocks than dicing and stirring. About the time I turned 12, I started watching the kitchen and, when she’d turn her attention to one of my siblings, I’d slide in behind her, taking up where she let off. It wasn’t much longer that I took over the cooking completely. My mother is the reason I’m a chef today. She’s also the reason my name is Willow. She wanted me to be tall and graceful, with long, slim limbs. I guess the joke’s on her for that one. Option B: It was the kind of heat that you could actually feel in the air. Melly stood in front of the fan, holding her hair off her neck, and looked forward to cooler days. She knew it would come and then it would turn cold. Too cold. She’d wrap up in two blankets and wait for warmer weather. Life was like that sometimes. She always felt like she was waiting for something – something that was sure to disappoint her. Option C: You aren’t supposed to meet the love of your life when your 16. Jenna knew that. Everyone knew that. Still, that summer she spent with Tommy Myers felt as much like love as anything she’d ever felt. So much that she was still thinking about it 10 years later. From the second she’d spotted him in front of the café, she’d known they would have something special. She walked right up to him, with the intention of introducing herself. As he turned to her, though, she’d lost her nerve and been unable to speak. He’d said to her “You look like you’re thirsty. You were coming up to ask what to order at this coffee shop, right? How about I treat you to my favorite?” He’d taken her elbow and guided her inside. They were inseparable from that moment until the day he’d left her life for good.
Posted on: Wed, 06 Aug 2014 04:14:00 +0000
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