So, when I started
writing this blog I intended to put lots of bits of my writing up. I
haven't really done that yet. So here's a couple of pieces from the
archives. They're from my first NaNo novel, A Fairytale Tomorrow,
which is currently (and will probably remain) abandoned. I've rambled
on here before about why not everything you write has to be destined
for publication, and about the benefits of writing for practice, but
there are a couple of other reasons why this book is shelved:
It was my first
novel, so it is essentially jam packed of every single YA lit
stereotype and trope you can think of.
Basically
everything in it is ripped off from my time at high school, and I
really haven't tried to change names/incidents all that much. (The
main characters are all completely imagined, though.)
I could continue
rewriting and editing it, but I'm happy to leave it as is and
continue with my other works in progress. I learnt a lot from
writing it though.
I have one physical
copy of the book – or what it was like at one stage anyway –
thanks to CreateSpace, a NaNoWriMo sponsor. Here it is:
(Cover adapted from a
photo by D Sharon Pruitt.)
It's currently at
Barnaby's house, where it may or may not be read. I mention this in
case I ever forget where it is. I'll be able to read back over my
blog and go 'Oh, right, that's where it is. Gee, it's been ten years,
I should try and track that down.'
Anyway! Onto some
excerpts. I've tried to pick ones that are not so much a rip off from
SOHS. The first one, in case it's not obvious, is the first section
from a paragraph where the Year Tens go to camp. (As we did at, uh,
SOHS.)
'I can't, for the life of me, imagine why the school
thinks it's a good idea to go on camp in the middle of winter', Mandy grumbled
as Ms Tyler's form class waited to board the bus.
Caitlin was hopping from foot to foot, trying to
keep herself warm. 'It's cheaper this time of year. And the school is a real
cheapskate.'
'Aw, come on, where's your sense of adventure?' Adam
asked the pair.
'I left it at home, along with my iPod, centrally
heated house, and nice food', Mandy retorted. 'None of it's coming to camp with
me.'
'Aw, it'll be fun guys', Ben put in. The group
stared at him – it really wasn't a Ben
thing to say. 'Well, not exactly fun, but better than school', he clarified.
'Alright, class! Excuse me, everyone in my form
class, please make sure you have put your bags by the back of the bus and line
up to get on, please. Let's see ... line up in order of birthdays.'
'Why?' Gabe inquired.
'To spark communication, of course! Come on, or
we'll never get to camp.'
'We'd get to camp a whole lot faster if she'd let us
line up however we wanted', Caitlin muttered to Rory. 'Save me a seat?'
'If there're two seats together by the time I get
on', Rory promised. Luckily for them, there were.
The bus had barely pulled out from the school when
Ms Tyler suggested a singalong. 'How about some Westlife?' she asked. The
students groaned, but one group of boys did start up a round of Row, Row, Row
Your Boat.
Row, row, row your boat
Gently down the stream
Toss your teacher overboard!
Listen to her scream!
Ms Tyler didn't think it was nearly as hilarious as
the boys themselves did, and they wound up with detentions. That was the only
punishment she ever gave anyone, although being in her class was a harsh
punishment in itself.
'Hard luck, ay, going off to camp with Ms Tyler and
Mr Healy, the most insane teachers this side of the planet. Probably more
insane than any teachers on the other side of the planet, too.' Caitlin stared
at the teacher, currently writing detention slips.
'It's about as good luck as getting Mr Healy as our
form teacher in Year Nine, and then Ms Tyler in Year Ten', Rory responded.
Though Mr Healy didn't make his classes play stupid games, he would get crazy
ideas and see them through to the end. He'd thought it would be good to put all
the desks in a large block in the middle of the classroom, and the students sit
around the edges. They'd been incredibly squished, but the setup had remained
all year. Another time he'd decided to play a week-long game where one team had
to do whatever the other team made them do, regardless. There'd been a few
complaints after that, and a couple of students had transferred out of his
class. Terri McClashen had even changed schools.
Right now, Mr Healy was ordering all the students to
get off the bus so they could go on a bushwalk. The sky was a very dark grey,
and looked like it would pour down at any moment. The teacher wasn't put off at
all, telling the students that if they didn't want to get caught in the rain,
they would have to hurry around the track.
'Psst, Rory. Let's line up at the back, then only
walk in for a couple of hundred metres, then get back on the bus', Mandy
whispered. Ben was beside her, nodding.
'Okay', Rory said tentatively. She didn't want to
get in trouble, but she really didn't want to go on a bushwalk either. They
couldn't even start to put their plan in action, though, as Ms Tyler decided
she would bring up the rear. The three students suddenly decided that they'd
rather walk in the middle of the pack. 'Good thing too – this bush is near where
part of Lord of the Rings was shot. She'd be lecturing us the whole way if we
were at the back', Mandy remarked.
'Ah, students!' Mr Healy called from where he was
striding out ahead of the pack. 'Isn't the smell of the bush fantastic? It's so
invigorating, so life-enhancing!'
'So stinky', Ben said, drawing laughs from both
girls. Adam and Caitlin, who for some reason actually enjoyed physical
activity, were walking further ahead.
'Aaand here comes the rain.' Rory muttered, as it
began to spit.
'Oh no, rain! I'll save you, princess' Ben said,
picking Rory up and carrying her forward a few paces, before dropping her
unceremoniously on the ground. 'Or not. That's hard work. I'm not cut out for
carrying anything heavier than my backpack.'
Rory dusted off her clothes, and tried to pretend
his comment didn't sting. She was heavy? She knew she wasn't thin, but she was
actually heavy?
'Come on, Ror, let's go, it's starting to pour down
now!' Mandy was right. The grey clouds had burst open, spilling buckets of water.
I would have to be wearing a white shirt right now,
wouldn't I, Rory thought, chastising herself, and wishing she could stab Ben's
eyeballs out – they were, for some reason, fixated on her chest.
The classes trudged along the path as quickly as
they could, sighing in relief when the busses came into view once again. 'Okay,
back on the busses everyone. Wasn't that fun? Just another hour until we get to
camp, where the fun will continue', Mr Healy told the students.
The group looked like drowned rats as they climbed
back onto their busses. 'Now we have to sit in wet clothes for an hour. I can't
wait to tell my Mum she was wrong, camp wasn't safe, and I got hypothermia'
Rory said to Caitlin. Caitlin was silent. 'What?'
'Maybe you should try and have a good time, Rory. If
you think you're going to hate camp, you will, and you'll be miserable the
whole time.'
Rory slumped back in her seat. 'Whatever.' She
closed her eyes and pretended to sleep the rest of the way to camp.
This segment comes from
a chapter where our hero and her brother Max find themselves staying
at the next door neighbour's house while their mother is out of town
for work. Rory's pretty unimpressed – the Hunter family includes:
Adam, who is in
her year at school. She has a bit of a crush on him, and he recently
asked her former best friend to the school social instead of her.
Dean, Adam's older
brother, who's a bit horrible really.
Ian, Adam's
younger brother and Max's best friend. He's okay, actually. He and
Max share a mutual interest in dinosaur games.
She found Mrs Hunter in the kitchen stirring a big
pot of porridge. 'Can I help?' she offered, not really wanting to, but wanting
to be polite.
Mrs Hunter sounded surprised. 'Oh! Rory dear, you're
up very early! Not like my lot. If you could grab the toast when it pops, then
put some more in the toaster, that would be wonderful.'
Toast and porridge for breakfast? Rory was
surprised. How did people eat that much? Although, she supposed, there were an
awful lot of boys in the Hunter family. Mrs Hunter didn't stop there, however.
Once she had taken the porridge off the stove she went to the pantry and began
pulling out boxes of cereal, which she placed on the table next to a selection
of plates and bowls, and knives and spoons. Rory took the last of the toast out
of the four slice toaster and put it on a plate, which she put on the table.
Mrs Hunter hurried over to the pantry and took out an assortment of spreads
which she put on the table as well. 'Sit down, sit down dear. Eat up.'
Rory felt a bit funny being the only one sitting at
the table. 'Aren't you going to join me?'
'In a minute, I'll just finish making everyone's
lunches.'
Rory wondered who 'everyone' was. She always had to
make her own lunches. But if she was only making a lunch for Ian, the youngest,
then she wouldn't have said 'everyone'. Anyway, she took a slice of toast and
spread some butter and Marmite on it, and took a bite.
'Take more than that, Rory. Have some porridge, or
some cereal. Breakfast's the most important meal of the day, after all. Oh, and
what can I get you to drink? Orange juice, tea, hot chocolate?'
'Orange juice is fine, thanks,' Rory said, still
thinking that this was way too much food for breakfast.
Max and Ian were the next ones down, and they slid
happily into their seats. 'Oh boy,' Max said, looking at the food and
immediately helping himself to some of everything.
'Max, be polite,' Rory admonished quietly. He paid
her no heed. Ian, too, had taken some of everything. So Rory guessed that that
must be okay – and it certainly seemed to keep Mrs Hunter happy, as she made
cups of hot chocolate for the boys.
Dean was next down, sidling in beside Rory, who
stiffened visibly. 'Sup Red' he greeted.
Well, Red was better than 'Ginga' in any case.
'Did you get your Calculus homework finished last
night?' his mother asked him.
'YES, Mum, don't nag,' he replied, rudely.
'Alright, dear. It's on your own head if you don't
get university entrance.'
'I certainly hope you got your homework done,' Mr
Hunter added, arriving at the bottom of the stairs. 'You're not freeloading off
of us if you don't get into university.'
Dean rolled his eyes, and Rory found herself
wondering if the stories Adam had told them about Dean brewing beer in his
parents' basement without their knowledge was true. And speaking of Adam, the
last Hunter boy entered the dining room and, like his brothers and father, took
some of everything.
'Adam, where is your school tie?' his mother asked
him. Adam shrugged.
'Dunno. In my room somewhere.'
'You'll get in trouble at school without a tie,
won't you?'
Dean snickered. 'No, Mum, nobody cares if you're
wearing a tie or not.'
'But the Year Thirteen boys' trend of shaving their
legs so they can wear roman sandals like the girls is a bit disturbing' Adam
said, elbowing Dean. 'Eh Dean?'
'I TOLD you Squirt, it's good for swimming.'
'And your little legs just look lovely in your roman
sandals.'
'Adam, if you don't shut up right now I'll –' Dean stopped,
seeing his parents staring at him with pointed looks on their faces. 'Not do
anything,' he finished, turning his attention back to his breakfast.
Rory found out later that Mrs Hunter had, in fact,
made a lunch for everyone. Including two sandwiches, an apple, an orange, a
pack of peanuts, two biscuits, a muesli bar, and some cheese and crackers.
'Do you always get so much lunch?' she asked Adam on
the way to school. He looked at her.
'What do you mean?'
'There's so much food in our lunches! Is that
usual?'
'Yeah,' he told her oddly, as if he didn't
understand what she was saying. 'Yeah, that's how much we always get.'
'Oh, okay. It just seems like a lot, that's all.'
They had left the house at the same time, so it had
only made sense to walk to school together. But when they had arrived they'd
both sensed some awkwardness. 'Bye, then,' Rory said. 'See you back at your
place after school.'
'We could – yeah, see you then. Have a good day.'
AND NOW IT'S TIME
FOR AN ADELAIDE UPDATE.
I
have AirNZ tickets, a valid passport, and the Writers' Week program in
my hot little hand, so I'm going baby! It's pretty close now too –
only 26 days away. There are lots of exciting people presenting but
I'm most excited to see / hear / hopefully get autographs from
(because I am a fangirl) Justine Larbalestier and Scott Westerfeld.
Larbalestier is the author of the fabulous Liar, which I have
just reread and it messed with my head (in the best possible way)
just as much as it did the first time I read it. She also co-wrote
Team Human which is an excellent antidote to Twilight.
She also is really interesting to follow on Twitter. And she has
Tweeted me a couple of times! One time recently we were having a
discussion about writing fiction vs theses and I really had to stop
myself from going MY THESIS IS 2/3 ABOUT UGLIES, YOU KNOW THAT SERIES
YOUR HUSBAND WROTE?! I refrained from doing this because it is really
annoying if someone yells at you on Twitter, and also because that
may have lowered the tone of the conversation and I was enjoying
having a calm conversation with a real live awesome author, yo.
So yeah, Westerfeld was the subject of a great majority of my thesis.
He's also my favourite author. (His wife is a much more entertaining
tweeter, though.) It might be kind of neat to see him. I'll try to
stop myself from doing anything really stupid, like getting him to
autograph my thesis. (That was a momentary thought of madness.) I'm
considering taking my original copy of Uglies (I have two
copies of the series – a box set and a study set) which is full of
about 300 post it notes and has notes scribbled in ballpoint pen
throughout the book and seeing if I can get that signed. It would be
kind of neat, since that's the copy I've read and reread and slaved
over. We'll see. I could, of course, buy one of his books there (as
you should really support the Book Tent at the Festival, as it helps
keep the events free) but I figure they might not have that series
there and I'll probably be inspired to buy books from authors who I
go and listen to but have not read.
Until
next time.
Actually,
it's too hot to go to bed so here are some pictures of my copy of
Uglies, so you can see what I mean.
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My stack of the series, with post-its. |
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The colour code for the post-its, scrawled on the front page. Different colours for quotes, character, and theme. |
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There aren't chapter numbers, which makes referencing a pain when you're making notes and want to say something happened in a particular chapter, and need to look it up again later. So I went through and numbered them all. |
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Sometimes I didn't have a post-it handy, or wanted to note something about the text which did not fit one of the three characters. Here I very intelligently remark that Tally's river ride mirrors her discovery of life outside of society's mindset. (Does society even have a mindset?) |
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Anatomy of a thesis subject: We have post-it notes, with notes on them. We have underlining. We have notes written on the text itself. We probably have sweat and tear stains on the paper.
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A symbolic shot showing how the series and post-its and hard work all ended up in a pretty little thesis.
And after that little photo-taking exercise, I should really go to bed!
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