Have you ever looked *really* closely at the keypad of a lap top you’ve owned for more than three years? *shudders* Don’t. Look. Between. The keys.
So, today I thought I’d reflect on all my past writings. Aside from short stories and songs (hein?!), I started writing in fifth grade. The first book was composed of short chapters written during daily free write – actually this took me into sixth grade. And when I was done, I had my own retelling of Anne of Green Gables, only mine was set in Nova Scotia. O_O Right.
The next book that I remembered was set in New Mexico and included a girl who’d been orphaned after the death of her parents. She was at this point old enough to move to a new state on her own – and I remember this was during the whole plastic encased Airwalks and Mickey Mouse brand craze of the early nineties —music abruptly stops—
Can we take a moment here to talk about Airwalks?! Um. Sweet Jesus but they ruined junior high. Does it tell you anything that I can find plenty of postings around the internet where people are relaying that they had those stupid purple plastic shoes but I can not find a SINGLE. PICTURE. Because Jesus God these things… I feel like the whole first half of the nineties was so freakin’ painful and offensive. Nothing in history could be considered worse. There. I said it. Plus those other Airwalks that boys wore until they curled up in the front and also were horribly fat and unbecoming and they made everyone’s legs look like ice cream cones and they seemingly only came in various shades of poop and the laces never seemed to live very long and inevitably everyone looked homeless? GOD.
Okay, so back to the super strange book I wrote about a place called Mesa, New Mexico. I’m really about to bear my soul here, too, because there’s a reason I discarded this book. The group of people who lived in the building with our girl – whose name I don’t know anymore – were named Micah, Elijah, Synthia and something starting with an A. Yep. You heard me right. And I have no idea who these kids were. They clearly weren’t in dorms or attending college but apparently hordes of maybe-teenagers-but-also-maybe-twentyish-year-olds-written-by-a-preteen live in really cool buildings together and also don’t work. So anyway, it turned out to be somewhat supernatural. Her aunt – who had somehow had a hand in her parents’ death? – was possessed and stalking her. Usually in the rain. O_O And also, there was a reservation… and some spirituality revolving around her Native family. That’s right. Her grandfather lives on the reservation. Anyway, it was horrible. Really miss certain scenes – as I remember them which is probably not anything CLOSE to what they truly were.
And then there was a book set in some small town in Ireland about a girl who expatriated frequently because it was easier for her dad to send her to boarding schools in other countries than to spend any time with her. O_O Her best friend was a French-Canadian girl named Cari who accompanied her. They lived in a cottage off of the shop owned by their guardians who were friends of her father. Once again, there were at least two people in love with her – the guy she was with and the guy who was actually a self-involved douche but also a good guy maybe and Caresse is in love with him and oh yeah her full name is Caresse but then this older guy comes into the town which is also something of a uni-town to teach at the university. Oh but also, her boyfriend is African and Irish and is also like some sort of nobility. O_O And I still remember what his home looks like and I love it. And they take trips. The four of them. And the girls work in that shop….aaaaand the main girl’s name is Nadia! Right. This whole thing came about because I went through a slight obsession with names like Carrick and Regan and the like.
Which reminds me of the first play I wrote which was Reagan’s Life. It was basically three alternate realities revolving around the life of Reagan and her sister, her husband and her would-have-been. Have you noticed that there’s always love-octagons in my junior high/high school work? Yeah. So anyway, her “real” life is pretty depressing since her husband is emotionally and occasionally physically abusive. Anyway, at the end you realize she was dreaming of all these alternate realities because she’d just poisoned herself. O_O
I don’t have to tell you that all my main characters are Black girls of mixed descent, yeah? Good.
Okay, so after Nadia – which was never titled – I started working on Callisto’s Charm, all of which was written in college (that one and Nadia, I mean). Ten years later, I returned to this novel and – as you can see – it is being queried.
And next I began what would become the first act of Atlantis Submerged, which was called Drowning Anna. At the time it was a novella about a girl, Atlantis, whose sister died before she was born and they’re both gifted. It was/is magic realism, by the way. It’s set in a fictitious New England town called Athens – not that there aren’t really towns in various states with that name – and I do actually still love this one though it was written horribly at first. This carried through to the beginning of college, when I wrote the next two novellas (The Seeing Iris and The Enchanted). And at that point, I was also writing Icharus Flying, which evolved a bit before I realized it needs to be a graphic novel. The ones I’m not telling details about are still potentially going to be worked.
In college, I’d written a short story about a relationship in which I realized my boyfriend was “into” interracial relationships. As in, he felt cool for being in one and “imagine[d] dating a girl of every race”. Thanks, bruh. And it ended up being transposed into a screenplay, which we shot at UCSC and which I called, Love In The Age Of Technicolor. It lost its zeal in post-production but I have the footage and I don’t despair, if you know what I mean.
Towards the very end of college, I started Anagnorises, which is now titled The Momentary Light Afflictions, though my husband and I still refer to it as Anagnorises.
I guess the other stuff would be one act plays (Giving Up Goddess and Baker’s Daughter) and things that are still works in progress to this day. Which means I have stopped working on them for a long period of time but will still write them. And everything before Callisto’s Charm is just vulgar. My skin pimples just thinking about it. Not that every project hasn’t been cringe-inducing at some stage. But Lord. Those first books. I wish I had them just to embarrass myself on occasion – which is why I still have the computer from the beginning of college on the off chance that I can ever access it and find remnants. And LORD, the “poetry”. Man. I really do dislike poetry. Really. And not just mine, which can’t really be responsibly referred to as poetry anyway.
What were we talking about… oh, right, monkeys.