What’s the title about?

5 05 2012

So you might be wondering about the name of this blog. Or you might not care. Well here’s the story and you can read it or not. When I was in my mid 20’s maybe 26, I ran into a boy I went to school with. I went to school with him forever. I remember him from 5th grade, but it may have been earlier than that, I just remember him teasing me about wearing a bra then. And I went to college with him. During that time 5th grade to 12th grade in particular we were always in the same homeroom b/c his last name ended in U and mind ended in V. So even if we didn’t have a class together we always saw each other. He was a nice guy, said hi. I invited him to a girl boy party because he was the lesser of most evils, meaning I was incredibly shy and had no romantic interest in him and he had none in me so he was safe and I wouldn’t have to go alone. Of course he had a girlfriend. He told me yes he’d go with me. She didn’t like that so he cancelled on me last minute. Of course she wouldn’t like that what was I stupid?? But I’d never had a boyfriend so I didn’t know how it would feel. So she was for ever known after that as Sally Butthole C. We said her last name out too, but I don’t want to write it out in case one of you three know her.

So, I went to said party alone. (Yes I’m getting to the title in a roundabout way). Everyone else was much more experienced than I when it came to boys. I was in 9th grade and had never been kissed. Never had a boyfriend, never slow danced with a guy etc. No, I have no idea what was wrong with me except I was extremely shy and I tended to like the same guy for a very long time. Jan T. from sixth grade through 9th grade. Little crushes in between were always ┬ástomped on when my “friend” S. would somehow become their girlfriend ahead of me. Then who wanted them after I’d heard the gory details? That little scenario carried on well into 10th grade.

So, back to the party. We played Post Office. I didn’t know about it so I thought Tom was going to whisper a secret in my ear. Instead he smacked the living shit out of my face so hard it left his handprint on my face! I cried! It hurt and I cried like any girl would do. I’m all dressed up in my Christmas dress and high heels, my date has dumped me and I get smacked in the face with the slap heard round the world. He did get in trouble. Big time. He apologized. I had previously thought we were friends. Apparently not. Needless to say the game was over. I don’t remember much after that but a bag of ice on my face and severe humiliation. To this day I have no idea why he slapped me so hard.

So back to Mr. U. after 9th grade he and Sally broke up as they were going to separate schools and again I saw him in homeroom. We graduated eventually and in college I saw him a lot more that first year as those of us that graduated together tended to stick together. Plus my college roommate was in love with his roommate. Again, there was never anything romantic between us. I couldn’t even say I know him very well at all. I do know that when he broke up with someone he never looked back because in high school he dated the same girl all the way through and when something happened between the two of them, they broke up and nothing would make him go back to her.

Cut to after college, been living on my own, working and I’m at the grocery store buying stuff to make my future husband which I didn’t know at the time something for dinner. I’m climbing into my jeep (yes I was a lot more fun back then) when I hear someone call my name. There is Mr. U. He comes over we hug and exchange information about what we’re doing now. That’s when he tells me. “You know, my mom always asked about you, said you always had the prettiest smile. That’s what she called you, the girl with the pretty smile.” I knew what he was saying. I always look like I’m smiling. Even if I feel like shit on the inside or I want to kill someone, I still look like I’m smiling. I can’t remember what I said to that. I’m sure I blushed that happens quite easily. We said goodbye and I haven’t seen him since. I don’t go to reunions. There are very few people I want to see from high school and one or two in particular that I absolutely don’t want to see, so I just don’t go.

But the name of this site has to do with what’s behind that pretty smile. What I hid all those years. It won’t be pretty and I’m not even sure I’ll have the courage to tell it. So….that’s it. That’s why I named it that. You can hang around if you want, but don’t pass my story along as I tell it and please don’t use it. It is mine and mine alone.

Thanks,

H.





On Writing

4 05 2012

I went to a book signing with YA authors on Tuesday. Beth Revis, Stephanie Perkins, Kiersten White and Megan Miranda. Their books run the gamut from Science Fiction to Contemporary to Supernatural. And I picked up some really interesting information about writing for YA. I think though, the most important thing I heard was from Stephanie Perkins. She said to become a better writer, you must become a better reader.
What? What is a better reader? She explained that when we react to something in a book, we should stop and figure out what it was that made us react.

So with that information in mind, I read my current book with that in mind. I tore that book apart. I picked it apart and yet, loved the heck out of it. But I found out what I didn’t like and what I did like about that book. So, now, I am going to be a better reader. I’m still going to enjoy what I read, but, I’ll be a much better informed writer. I’ll be looking with a more critical eye so that I can use what I like in my own writing. Because somewhere inside me, I just know, there is a story waiting to be told. And I am going to tell it. And you will read it.

BTW, how have you guys found this poor neglected site and why would you follow it? I haven’t written a thing here. But glad to have you.

H.