Friday 2 November 2012

I'm back!

I'm trying not to be a slacker but really, there's no excuse for being away for so long. Sorry, Lucy!! I keep meaning to sit down and write more of her story but my mind has been the wandering sort these past few months. But I've finally finished up chapter 1! Yay! Now on to chapter 2: Hello, Hellacom! I've already completed most of my chapter outline with what I'd like to accomplish during Lucy's first few days back in the working world! I'm excited to introduce some new characters, friends & foes, as well as a glimpse at the elusive CEO of Hellacom.

Glad to be back!

Chapter 1: The 66 day draught

*crunch crunch crumple*

Lucy slowly pried one eye open to see if she could spot the source of the ruckus that had woken her up. Nothing. The noise had stopped. She closed her eye again and attempted an ostrich style maneuver in the hope of drowning out any noise or sunlight. Or, anything really. Her head was pounding.

*crunch crunch crumple meow*

Apparently her pillows were not the best method of soundproofing. Squinting as though she had been thrust out into a bright sunny day, Lucy stumbled out of her tiny twin bed and steered her body in the general direction of the noise. Snowball. Whattabitch. Lucy's beloved (if oft loathed) obese cat had her melon head wedged into one of the canvas bags littered across the kitchen floor. Lucy struggled to remember who had left the bags there in the first place! As she snatched Snowball up off the floor she realized what had caught the cats attention. Groceries. Lots of them. Littered across the floor and countertop. Then she remembered.

Vodka
Jaggerbombs
More vodka
Beer with a tequila chaser

The mere thought of that last one sent a shudder through her body and had her stomach roiling. She snuggled her face into Snowball's fur & let out a whimper. "Snowy," she asked "Have you been eating olives?". She dropped the cat and snatched up the bag the cats head had been investigating. Expensive olives, procuitto, many kinds of cheese. All the fixings to whip up a gourmet 3am pizza, courtesy of the 24 hour grocer down the block. "They should just put a bar in next to the deli section." Lucy muttered, too terrified to think of her tab from last nights festivities.

She knew she was in trouble, money wise. All 3 of her credit cards were in danger of melting due to overuse, and her savings account had just the tiniest cushion left. Enough to cover next months rent and nothing else. Especially not late night bar crawls and midnight shopping. "What the hell was I thinking, Snowy??!" the cat had limited advice, opting to dive into the olives once again. Lucy left Snowball to her gourmet buffet and headed into the bathroom to splash some water on her face.

The water felt amazing on her skin. Lucy dabbed the tiniest amount of her favorite face cream and spread it sparingly across her face. Who knew when she would have enough disposable cash to splurge on another jar?! Suddenly a movement in the mirror caught her attention, followed by a muffled cough that caused Lucy to jump & drop her face cream into a million little pieces on the tile floor. Lucy growled and gingerly tiptoed throug the wreckage to pull the shower curtain aside. "Leroy!" she exclaimed "You scared the crap out of me!"

Leroy, who looked like death warmed over, gave her one of his patented lopsided stink-eye glares. He offered his hands to Lucy, "A little help, Sunshine?". Lucy sighed and hefted Leroy out of the tub where he had obviously made himself at home for the night. She eyed her favorite body pillow curved around the tub. So that's where it went! "You startled me, so you get to clean this up." Lucy stated "I'm going to see what I can salvage for breakfast. And you totally owe me a jar of.." "Pizza?" Leroy wondered, a hopeful gleam in his clear blue eyes. Lucy glared and stomped into the kitchen to take inventory.

Everything on the floor had been nibbled. The bags on the counter contained fancy crackers (still good), milk (now rancid), eggs (too risky), okra (what? Ew), fennel seeds (why?!), and 4 bags of thawed perogies (garbage). The heat pouring into the cramped one bedroom apartment had done a fabulous job of destroying the perishables. Leroy had obviously played with the thermostat again. Men! If he wasn't her very best friend in the whole world she would be done with him! So done!

She caught a glimpse of her scowling face in a reflection off the microwave. Damn! She looked beat. Who the hell would hire someone with the sallow complexion & puffy eyes she was sporting this morning? Just then Leroy skipped around the corner looking gorgeous. What is it with men? They can wake up looking like they got mauled by a rabid bear, have a quick shower and come out looking like the cover of GQ! Not fair. Leroy is a morning person, and today Lucy hated him a little bit for it. Still, she refused to be the only person in the apartment looking as surly & beat up as she currently did. Wordlessly, she thrust the garbage bag she had begun to fill with the spoiled food in Leroy's general direction. And he, wordlessly, picked up where she left off (because that's what best friends do).

Lucy shut herself in the bathroom and cranked the hot water on in the shower stall. As she undressed she examined her tired body. Eyes a little bloodshot but slowly becoming lucid. The smell of brewing coffee wafting under the door (good old Leroy!) was definitely putting the spark back into her peculiar russet eyes. Hair a fiery red, dull from exposure to last nights hairspray, second-hand smoke and sweaty impromptu dance party, hung limply down her back. Skin an even porcelain tone (and slowly returning to a human pallor) was dotted sporadically with patches of tiny freckles. Lips full and rounded, currently smeared in the remains of last nights lipstick. All of this on top of a petite frame with graceful hands and strong dancers legs. Lucy sighed to her reflection and gazed wistfully into the garbage can on the floor that contained the fragmented remains of her previous lifes extravagant ways. It wasn't long ago that she was living the high life.

66 days to be exact, though it certainly felt longer. Yes, 66 days since she had been unceremoniously booted out the door by the ad firm that had both made her & broken her. She had started at Grove Agencies as a temp 6 years ago and had worked her way up from the front desk all the way to a lovely office with real walls, 2 windows, and an assistant of her very own. The pay hadn't hurt either. Heaps of dirty ad money had passed through her fingers, each successful account (and subsequent bonus) affording her the highflying lifestyle most people only dream about.

Gucci suits
Louboutins
Creme de la Mere *sob*
The "It" bag for every season

Extravagant shopping sprees followed by lengthy spa rituals and private catered events (paid for by yours truly) for all of her closest friends. Which, in the end, turned out to be basically Leroy & Snowy, as everyone else had turned their backs on Lucy the moment Grove decided she was persona non grata.

Blacklisted by her former boss, mentor and lover, Trent Grove, Lucy had been deemed unemployable by any and all agencies who otherwise would have been happy to welcome an agent of her experience into the fold. But Trent's fury was immediate and swift from the moment he walked in on her with the marketing guy from her latest promo, joined together in a most unladylike way atop Groves immaculate granite boardroom table in the middle of the afternoon. It was very unlike her! She had never cheated before, had never even thought about it. But he had seduced her over long conversations about market share & trend growth, and had somehow made her believe that his fantasy of having his way with Lucy while wearing nothing but the overprice sneakers they were hocking was a great idea.

Sigh. Lucy still felt awful about it all. Shaking off her memories and melancholy, Lucy hopped in the stall for a long luxurious shower. She hadn't realized how much time had passed until Leroy barged in hollering about how she was depleting Manhattan's hot water supply. "And your phone rang. Seriously?? 'I think we're alone now' is your ringtone??! How am I still friends with you??"

I rolled my eyes at his mocking tone. "This from the guy who spent most of last night serenading people with early 90's boyband ballads? No judgy-judgy, my friend." Leroy stifled a giggle as the memory came back to him. "Oh you know that was nothing but fantastic" he smirked "Anyways, I let your phone go to voicemail. The id was something like 'Armageddon'...?"

"Amaddon??!" I screeched. "Gimme gimme gimme" I reached for the phone like a toddler grasping their favorite treat. A voicemail from them meant a possible paycheque for me!! I hurriedly pressed the buttons to retrieve my messages and finally heard what I had been waiting weeks to hear!

"Ms. Perr? This is Sheila from Amaddon Employment agency calling. We have a temp placement for you starting tomorrow at 8am if you'd like it. A large corporation, Hellacom, with the possibility of permanent work if you show some initiative. Be early, they like that. And just a tip; bring Rosie in HR some coffee tomorrow morning. Black."

I have a job! Yessss! The draught is over!!

Wednesday 14 December 2011

Climate Change

These days the climate is a pretty controversial subject. No one *really* knows what's happening; theories are flying, blah blah blah. The physical setting of Lucy's story is giving me trouble. Where should she live? Every book that truly sucks me in to the story is set in a very distinct location, somewhere that fits the protagonist perfectly! I know I've read a handful of books with severely mismatched locales, and it totally ruined the story for me. So I'm having some trouble deciding where her life should be.

She's definitely not a country girl. No small towns here! But is she meant for the "big city", a la New York? Certainly if I'm going to introduce a corporate conglomerate it will have to be based in a fairly sizable and business oriented city. Am I stuck with New York?

Wednesday 30 November 2011

Choose your own adventure

I read more than most, I think. And I read more than one book at a time. I truly enjoy getting lost in a good story, though I tend to gravitate towards the murder/mystery/love story genre. It's like candy, I can't get enough. When I think about what I want to build for Lucy, I hesitate when it comes to death. It's a strange thing to want to read another persons dealings with such morbid topics, but Lucy? I want to protect her. She's a shiny new toy and I don't want her world tarnished by dirty reality. I suppose it will come out naturally though. Someone will have to die. I just don't have it in me to keep them ALL alive.

Tuesday 29 November 2011

What's in a name?

A few years ago I found out that there was already someone out there in the world with my name that is a published author. Sonofabitch. Good for her! I'm proud that someone with my lovely name has experienced success in the writing world, something I've often thought about. The only thing that bothers me is that I cannot use my own name for writing, should I experience success. It strikes me that using your own name instead of a pseudonym is a shoutout to your parents, a thankful homage to their sacrifices during your upbringing. "See? MY child is a successful published author!" Bragging rights and such.

What are the other options at this point? Do you go with your middle name instead of your first? Do you make up a whole new persona? That could be fun but it certainly sounds like too much work! I have to use a fake persona at my day job (grateful-your-business-sales rep) and let me tell you, it is draining. So I think I'll stick with using my middle name should the need arise. I should probably google it just in case.

Monday 28 November 2011

It begins

I've often dreamed of being a published writer, as do millions of others around the world. When I was young I was an English wiz. It was incredibly easy for me to conjure short stories and poems at will. I won local writing competitions, district-wide short story prizes, and the like. I had the highest damn provincial test score for the English provincials in my graduating class. And yet I couldn't pick out a verb or a pronoun. I have no idea why, but the reason why a sentence was correct never stuck in my mind. If it was incorrect I could fix it for you, but I couldn't tell you how. It either was or it wasn't.

You'd think I would be one of those "journal people" but I never took to that practice. Never wanted to leave evidence I suppose. Because my journal would contain such scandalous information, obviously. Such a scandalous life I lead. Though I've never put it to paper, there is a story/character that has bounced around my brain for years. Her name is Lucy Perr and she is the product of a slightly gothic outlook on life, coupled with a sunny disposition. She is a little bit sci-fi love, a little bit everyday hero (because we always love to root for them). She is a fun, exciting person with regular problems (man, money, job, etc) who happens to step into the supernatural world. I'm not talking Twilight vampires here, people. No werewolves. No Harry Potter wizardry. Just the devil.

I'm going to build my story here, build the life of Lucy Perr. Perhaps someday I'll finish her story and attempt to publish. Who knows? But her story deserves to be told.