Eve teasing can lead to serious consequences and it is outrageous that it happens so frequently and many think its harmless fun.
Rather than meet you and let you know how he feels. The person who is ‘in love’ with you and knows you are interested, uses his best friend to either talk to you or to your BF. This to and fro through the jungle causes anticipation and frustration in equal measures.
Chapter 23 of Firstborn was written with the above in mind.
It’s a dumb question to ask if an absent mother can love? As dumb as the overused question “Does a tree falling in a wood make a sound if no one is there to hear it?” Of course it does. All those mothers separated from their children out of no choice of their own, love their children deeply whether their children know it or not. This chapter is dedicated to Selene Woods.
This chapter deals with the sacrifice a parent makes and the unconditional trust a son feels even though he really doesn’t know his parent well.
Pretences are dropped, leaving Avi further vulnerable. His instincts tell him not to trust anyone.
I did what the experts said, yet the track finished short of the station.
How did I manage that?
I thought I had learnt all the lessons to be learnt when I wrote the first draft of my first book.
Yet here…I am again…stuck!
This time I have written chapters without editing at all. That is a big tick according to the writing gurus.
“Fill the blank canvases but don’t edit them.”
“Chuck the words on the page and don’t look back.”
Great advice until I found I was 35 thousand words short. Somehow, I had written the whole novel and reached the end of the book after just writing 45000 words – last time I wrote 85,000 words.
I sat down, head in hands, full of despair. Things got worse I didn’t even pick up the lid of the laptop. Dejected, at one in the morning, my iPhone lit up. The purple pod cast section had a a lovely red dot. My eyes widened when I saw the words ‘What if my words suck?’ The pod cast beauty, was a pod cast from Story Grid.
I won’t lie and say it made me jump out of my bed to write because anyone who knows me will know I’m lying. I am not separable from my duvet once I am comfortable. Anyhow, listening to the pod cast I realised I had written the action but none of the ‘fat’. I had a lean story which fulfilled its genre expectations and the criteria of a second book in a trilogy series but I forgot about the inner genre of the antagonist and the mentor. Oh ‘Fat’ I love thee. Smooch!
My deadline to finish the first draft is fast approaching. I only have twelve and a half days left but I think I can do it… scrub that…I will do it!
I have picked up a sleeper and am putting the track down. I haven’t yet got to the station. The whistles of the steam train with the number and letters 30APR on its face, is fast approaching Will I make it? I don’t know.
Hark! Can I hear cheering? Is that you waving me on with kind words…I hope so. If it is you then thank you.
My first kiss (luckily from my true love) was the exclamation after the build up of small moments of awareness, heart flutters, vulnerability and reduction of space and separation. It set a chain of chemical reactions and my journey many years later still continues.
Be patient and it will come just not in the first few pages…
First imagine that a girl is conceived
Next understand that the place where she is born
The probability of
length of her life or even conception.
In chapter 16 Avi finds out why Meeru is the only girl born in Major’s family.
For the last five days I have not turned the page on the calendar on my kitchen wall.
“Go On!” taunts the black duck on the page tired of posing in the rippled waters.
Dauntless I had crusaded so far. I followed what Juliet Mushens advice in her book and took my time crafting my query letter and synopsis to reflect the heart of my work. Heck! I have five different versions based on different agents’ requirements.
In little writing on the 31st of March there is a little scribble. It says POSITIVE THINKING!!
Who was the idiot who wrote the note? Me.
I read POSTIVE THINKING ALOUD and notice a change in temperature and then a silhouette of an agent lodges in my mind, followed by words.
“Agents are book-loving people with tall piles of transcripts from authors (of course the piles don’t exist they are now lists in an inbox tray on a mailing system, I think quietly). Agents want to partner with writers. For that to happen they have to believe in you and your work and when that happens they will stop at nothing to see it gets published. An agent will become your fan and coach. Someone who through there clever guidance will machete through the jungle to the prize a well marketed published book.”
Spookily, my hands hover over the calendar.
Am I Alone in feeling daunted, anxious and mystified? Of course not – I am one of many, thousands maybe even millions.
How do I stop myself from being overcome? The answer is
I am a CRUSADER.
I must keep focus on my burning desire to reach readers with my story.
Hawk eyed I continue to look for all unexpected opportunities that might lead me to an agent.
Talent is required but so is persistence and luck. Who makes the luck? I do.
I will send my story to five more agents this week.
My hands no longer hover over the calendar and instead turn the page.
I’m sure I hear a jubilant quack!
The black duck is replaced by a sunrise silhouette. Was that a message or just a coincidence?
My lucky self says it is an omen of success. I punch the air and then realise I have to skip the first line of the month entirely and start from day six… Below I see my X on the 28th.
Before my eyebrows can furrow I remember the new agents I will send my submission to. I punch the air again.
Will I wait beyond April? Who knows? Fifteen chapters of ‘Firstborn’ are already in cyberspace for free on WATTPAD therefore self publishing might be the new direction I take.
One thing I have learnt from writing this blog is that I have no time to be despondent and anxious. Instead, on my calendar I am reminded. that my crusader self has a London Book Fair to march to in exactly six days. Onwards and upwards! Remember Rome wasn’t built in a day!