IWSG Blog Hop:
Every month, the Insecure Writers Support Group poses an optional question that members can answer in their blog posts. Special thanks to Alex Cavanaugh for founding IWSG, and to this month’s helpful blog hop co-hosts: Erika Beebe, Pat Garcia, Tonja Drecker, Sadira Stone, and Cathrina Constantine.
Every month, the Insecure Writers Support Group poses an optional question that members can answer in their blog posts. Special thanks to Alex Cavanaugh for founding IWSG, and to this month’s helpful blog hop co-hosts: Erika Beebe, Pat Garcia, Tonja Drecker, Sadira Stone, and Cathrina Constantine.
This month's blog topic:
Have your readers ever responded to your writing in a way that you didn't expect? If so, did it surprise you?
Have your readers ever responded to your writing in a way that you didn't expect? If so, did it surprise you?
This month is the anniversary of Pandemic's publication in 2014! One surprise, I suppose, is that people have continued to enjoy reading about a fictional pandemic even as we actually lived through one.
In honor of my debut novel's anniversary, I'm sharing a deleted scene. At one point in my writing process, this was Pandemic’s opening. It shows a glimpse of Lil’s friendships before the outbreak.
Five months earlier:
Lockers slammed as the usual Friday afternoon joy filled the school. Kayla and Megs walked down the hallway in front of me. I caught up, slipped between them, and linked my arms through theirs.
“Hey, Lil,” Kayla said.
The loudspeaker interrupted with Mr. Fryman’s last announcements of the week. “Don’t forget that Monday is Spirit Day, so please show your school pride by wearing red and white,” he said. “Congratulations on donating over 200 pounds of non-perishable food for the Thanksgiving drive! This season, I’m thankful for all of you! Don’t forget, charity begins at home. And success is a journey, not a destination!”
“Principal Cliché is at it again,” Megs said. “Will he ever stop?”
“You can’t teach an old dog new tricks,” I said.
Megs laughed, but Kayla moved away from us and stood straighter, head up, chest out. At first I thought we’d annoyed her again. Then she did the head tilt, which meant an attractive guy had entered her orbit. As I glanced around for the usual suspects, I almost walked straight into the English teacher who helped me coordinate the food drive in between his debate team coaching.
“Hey, Mr. B,” Kayla said, all white-teeth smile.
“Happy Friday, ladies,” he said. “Liliana, let’s meet in the parking lot in five minutes. I have directions to the food pantry and—”
“Debate team practice on Tuesday?” Kayla interrupted. “I’ve been working on a new speech for Original Oratory, Myths about Love.”
“Sounds good. I can’t wait to hear it.”
She beamed after him as he continued toward his classroom, greeting students and making small talk as he went. Mr. B had convinced the other English teachers to exchange homework passes for food donations, which greatly increased our collection size.
“He’s like the school mayor,” I said.
“The mayor of hotness,” Kayla said. “That dark wavy hair, those brown eyes. Mr. B is bee-you-ti-ful.”
“Oh stop,” I said. “He’s at least thirty.”
“So?” Kayla said. “I’m mature for my age.” She’d spent all of last year crushing on him. It looked like our sophomore year would be more of the same.
“Gross.” Megs scowled. “And illegal.”
Kayla flipped her hair back, ready to argue.
“Are you nervous about the next debate?” I asked, hoping to derail their fight.
“No,” Kayla said. “I just envision people naked. I have a vivid imagination.”
I shook my head, leaving Megs to deal with her as I left to meet Mr. B.
Later, I would face evil in the form of a deadly virus. But I didn’t know then that evil could come in many forms. It could even masquerade as a caring teacher.
That afternoon would change everything.
Lockers slammed as the usual Friday afternoon joy filled the school. Kayla and Megs walked down the hallway in front of me. I caught up, slipped between them, and linked my arms through theirs.
“Hey, Lil,” Kayla said.
The loudspeaker interrupted with Mr. Fryman’s last announcements of the week. “Don’t forget that Monday is Spirit Day, so please show your school pride by wearing red and white,” he said. “Congratulations on donating over 200 pounds of non-perishable food for the Thanksgiving drive! This season, I’m thankful for all of you! Don’t forget, charity begins at home. And success is a journey, not a destination!”
“Principal Cliché is at it again,” Megs said. “Will he ever stop?”
“You can’t teach an old dog new tricks,” I said.
Megs laughed, but Kayla moved away from us and stood straighter, head up, chest out. At first I thought we’d annoyed her again. Then she did the head tilt, which meant an attractive guy had entered her orbit. As I glanced around for the usual suspects, I almost walked straight into the English teacher who helped me coordinate the food drive in between his debate team coaching.
“Hey, Mr. B,” Kayla said, all white-teeth smile.
“Happy Friday, ladies,” he said. “Liliana, let’s meet in the parking lot in five minutes. I have directions to the food pantry and—”
“Debate team practice on Tuesday?” Kayla interrupted. “I’ve been working on a new speech for Original Oratory, Myths about Love.”
“Sounds good. I can’t wait to hear it.”
She beamed after him as he continued toward his classroom, greeting students and making small talk as he went. Mr. B had convinced the other English teachers to exchange homework passes for food donations, which greatly increased our collection size.
“He’s like the school mayor,” I said.
“The mayor of hotness,” Kayla said. “That dark wavy hair, those brown eyes. Mr. B is bee-you-ti-ful.”
“Oh stop,” I said. “He’s at least thirty.”
“So?” Kayla said. “I’m mature for my age.” She’d spent all of last year crushing on him. It looked like our sophomore year would be more of the same.
“Gross.” Megs scowled. “And illegal.”
Kayla flipped her hair back, ready to argue.
“Are you nervous about the next debate?” I asked, hoping to derail their fight.
“No,” Kayla said. “I just envision people naked. I have a vivid imagination.”
I shook my head, leaving Megs to deal with her as I left to meet Mr. B.
Later, I would face evil in the form of a deadly virus. But I didn’t know then that evil could come in many forms. It could even masquerade as a caring teacher.
That afternoon would change everything.
This week's links:
An older post, but a good one about writer's envy. The Writer's Poison by Joelle Fraser.
A Word tech hack that I love: Create your own Text Expander.
Productivity and the art of doing nothing but thinking: How to boost your creativity with a 'non-time' secret used by Steve Jobs, Einstein, and other neuroscientists
An older post, but a good one about writer's envy. The Writer's Poison by Joelle Fraser.
A Word tech hack that I love: Create your own Text Expander.
Productivity and the art of doing nothing but thinking: How to boost your creativity with a 'non-time' secret used by Steve Jobs, Einstein, and other neuroscientists
One last thing: Agree or disagree?
According to Francine Jay, "Surfaces are not for storage. Rather, surfaces are for activity, and should be kept clear at all other times."
What do you think?
What do you think?
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