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Wednesday, April 25, 2012

Submitted for Your (Dis) Approval

So after writing that last entry, I figure why not go for it.  So, I'm putting it out there, and looking for some feedback, I suppose.   This is, what I hope will be the beginning of my novel.  I'd like the working title to be "Real Werewolves Have Chest Hair" but I'm wondering if that will fly with an agent.  Anyway, for better or for worse, here it is.     Please, if you are reading and would be so kind, let me know what you think.
If you're not sure what to say, here are some questions to answer.
1.  Did it hold your interest?
2. Does the main character seem/likable ?
3. Does reading this make you want to know what happens next?
Thanks in advance!

Here it is-have at it. :P



Good Morning, Dad, Good Morning, Warren”. In some distant, quiet, part of my brain I hear them both answer, “Good morning!” It kills me hearing them so cheery but if they are where I believe they are, I suppose that makes sense.
You need to understand one thing about me right off the bat. (Cue the eerie music). I talk to dead people. No, I don't see them, like that creepy little kid in “The Sixth Sense “ or that stick woman with the surgically enhanced boobs in “The Ghost Whisperer” I talk to them. Some of the time they talk back, most of the time, they just listen. Sometimes, when they feel like it, they pay me a visit and strike up a conversation.
I talk to my dad, who's been gone for seven years now. I still miss him like he passed yesterday. He and I were close, and he, well, he got me, like only a few of my friends now, do.
Warren is Warren Zevon, the brilliant musician who was taken by cancer much too early. I used to listen to him in high school and college, and recently started listening to him again, discovering that he wrote some profound, and almost beautifully painful songs. I'm reading his biography right now, and the more I learn about him the more I'm sure that he and I would have been friends (and possibly more) if we'd run into each other . Maybe I'll get to talk to him in the Next Life, that is, if I survive this one.

Now that you know that, I'll introduce myself formally. I'm Sydney Wallace, 42, aspiring journalist, writer, and former publicist for Mr. Peter Sampson, the famous Broadway actor. If you haven't been living under a rock, you'll recognize the name immediately, if not, trust, me you're better off. I say 'former publicist ' because I just left my job a week ago and am now frantically searching for something new, so that I can continue to pay my rent and eat. Fortunately I saved some of my paycheck so I can make it for two months, maybe three if I eat Ramen noodles for breakfast, lunch and dinner. It also gives me time to work on the novel I've been trying to write for two years now. At least that's what I tell myself those days I don't job hurt, but stare at the blank page on my laptop and curse that blinking cursor that whines “you don't give me enough to do”.
No, a writer's life is not an easy one, but, seeing as I've been writing stories and little poems since I was seven years old, and making them up for as long as I can remember it's kind of hard to stop now. Even though my mother nags, “find a real job, one with stability and a nice 401K plan that will see you through your golden years.” What she doesn't say is that if I had a job like that I'd be more likely to find an acceptable man with money so I wouldn't have to work, and who would support me in my golden years. Ugh. That's her idea of a wonderful life, not mine.
It's not that I wouldn't like to have someone to share my life with, a companion, a friend, a guaranteed date for big events and holidays, but I seem to have a tendency to fall for the unavailable whether they are fledgling sociopaths, (I almost married that one), already married, or dead. (I've told you about the dead one already.). I'm pretty sure that marriage is out of the picture for now, and I've been trying to muffle the ticking of my biological clock with about twelve pillows. Some times that works, other days, not so much. I've basically accepted.that I will be alone, and the more I stay that way,the more I realize that there aren't many men who could put up with most of my more, well let's just call them eccentricities.
So, that's where I am right now. It's not perfect, but it's a damned sight better than where I was a week ago.



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