*tiptoes*

*brushes off cobwebs*

So…how ya doin’?

Me? Yeah, not bad. You know, same old same old. I’ve been a little MIA.

Okaaaaaaaay.

I’ve been A LOT MIA.

But with good reason!

Here’s what I’ve been up to since the last time I checked in:

I went here

and drank lots of these

Then went to Annapolis to meet up with these AMAZING women for the weekend:

Ricki Schultz, Sara McClung, Cristin Terrill, and Lola Sharp (also pictured is our cray-cray server at PF Chang’s. Dude had some EARS too.)

and we did a lot of this

and I’ve been working on two projects which is making my mind do this

plus I need to get ready for this, which kicks off Tuesday and runs until Saturday (*dies*)

where I’ll be meeting up with more AMAZING writers and soaking in AMAZING workshops and itching to keep up with all the writing mojo that’s sure to accumulate when you’re surrounded by 2,000 writers who are all equally passionate about WORDS. It’ll be, yup—you guessed it—AMAZING.

So while I wrap my head around all the exciting things happening next week, you can catch me on Tumblr, where I’ve been posting pictures that remind me of my WIP.

Like this one (*sigh*)

Inspiration. It’s everywhere, peeps. EVERYWHERE. Now go forth and get you some!

Who am I?

What am I doing?

Is this really me?

What if I forget myself?

There’s no time.

Never enough time.

But wait.

I’m still breathing.

There’s always time.

To allow me

to be ME.

And so I opened up my laptop, clicked on a new Word doc, and just started typing. I still remember that first story. It was a paranormal romance, something about a bodyguard to the Muses, banished to the “real world” by Aphrodite who ends up falling in love with a mortal woman who also happens to be a descendant of Aphrodite. Yeah. Not very original and full of plot holes left to right. I stutter-started three times, each effort worth about 100 pages before I realized the problem was too deep to be salvaged. BUT. I loved every minute of it. The writing. The discovery. The creation. For the first time, in a very long time, I felt 100% in control.

I know some people say you should write to your audience, to let others in, to give back, to get out a message, to entertain. But I disagree with this a little. I think the more important thing to remember is you need to write for YOU. Satisfy yourself first before worrying about satisfying a reader. If you don’t love what’s on the page, how will anyone else?

Today is my birthday and I feel like this is a full circle type moment. I can look back over the past two years and see what roads I’ve taken, what words I’ve written, what characters I’ve created. For me. And today, while getting hit with all sorts of epiphanies, I heard a song that sums up everything about my current WIP that I’ve been missing. I have this album. It’s a beautiful, haunting album. I encourage you to give it a listen on iTunes or YouTube or go to the closest music store and check it out because there are so many songs on it that say everything I want to say in a much simpler, purer way.

And yeah, I don’t really have a point to this post…just wanted to say it’s a pretty amazing feeling when things feel like they’re clicking into place. Sometimes it doesn’t take much. Sometimes it only takes a whisper of a melody to remind you what you set out to do.

For those of you who don’t know her, Martina is one of the founders of Adventures in Children’s Publishing and tweets at @4KidLit. She is a non-fiction writer and editor in real-life, but young adult fiction is her passion. She likes nothing better than diving into magical new worlds, flawed characters, or manuscripts that need to be restructured. (<– Yeah, I can totally vouch for this!)

But what Martina also forgot to include in her bio *ahem* is that Adventures in Children’s Publishing hit their one-year blogiversary earlier this month, and since last March they’ve gained more than 1,000 followers and almost 175,000 hits to their site. That’s CRAZY AWESOME! Her and ACP co-founder, Marissa Graff, offer daily posts that not only provide writers with fantastic contests and critique opportunities, but also wonderful insight, resources, and inspiration. If you don’t already visit their blog, you’re missing out. So please give Martina a warm welcome!

An Idiot’s Guide to Social Networking (for Writers)

This whole social networking thing? Scary as hell. A year ago, I dipped my toes cautiously and fearfully, because I was already overwhelmed with work and family. Life. But the thing I quickly discovered was that getting online was the greatest thing I could have done for my writing. When the going got tough, writing-wise, being online in the company of other writers kept me going.

I’ve read a lot of posts that talk about social networking as a time suck. I believe it can be, but I also think it’s an incomparable gift. Writing posts on craft helps keep me focused on craft. It keeps me reading posts on technique, concept, structure, voice, character…. It gives me insight into how other writers learn. It shows me what they are getting out of the same posts or books I am reading, and the subtle differences of what they picked up versus what I learned points me down paths I might not otherwise have followed.

With social networking as with anything else, I get out of it what I put into it. And then some. That’s the trick to it.

So here’s my nugget of truth for the day. If you go in worrying about what social networking is going to do for you, you’re going to miss out. Because that isn’t the right question. What are you going to give to other writers? Other readers? What can you put out there?

The moment you do that, you get back a hundred-fold.

One of the first things I did on the blog was a query-letter critique feature. Our very first participant was Clara Kensie. And the concept in her query was phenomenal. She and I exchanged manuscripts, and then she introduced me to other writers in her critique group, which, long story short, led me to a writer named Cambria Dillon. Who had another phenomenal manuscript. And taught me so much about voice and writing that I couldn’t have gotten from a book.

You collect people when you expand your writing journey online. These people support you, prop you up, build your craft, shore up your failing confidence. They inspire you to be better, braver. They commiserate with you when you fall on your face, and they give you the opportunity to celebrate when awesome things happen. They let you know there is awesome out there.

Awesome like Cam signing with Vickie Motter.

So, congrats, Cam. And congrats, Vickie.

I’m so thankful to be here celebrating with you!

Thank you, Martina! For your kind words, honest insight, and also for reminding us that social networking isn’t just about ME ME ME but also about US US US. The writing community wouldn’t be a ‘community’ without recognizing we’re not in this alone. If we don’t give back, we’ll stunt growth — and not just someone else’s, but ours. Anyway…enough of me getting all sentimental and Hallmark-y. You probably want to know who won from yesterday, yes?

The winner of a query letter critique from Kristine Asselin AND a signed copy of The Summoning by Kelley Armstrong is:

Alison Miller!!!

And in honor of today’s guest, here are the awesome giveaways for Thursday:

A 30-PAGE CRITIQUE (!) by Martina Boone

AND

A copy of Radiant Shadows by Melissa Marr

The rules:

1. You must be a follower of this blog.
2. If you want to be eligible to win this prize pack, please stop by Adventures in Children’s Publishing and follow them too!
3. Complete the entry form below to enter. You can earn extra points for blogging about this contest (include a link in the Comments) or tweeting a link back to this post (@reply me on Twitter — @CambriaDillon — and make sure to leave your Twitter user name in the Comments).

Today’s giveaway will run until 10pm EST tonight and the winner will be announced in tomorrow’s post. All other entrants will be added to the drawing for the Grand Prize Pack on Friday. Unfortunately, I have to limit the contest to US residents only. Sorry international folk!

Don’t forget to stop by tomorrow to enter my final giveaway. And in case you forgot…here are the fabulous prizes one more time:

GRAND PRIZE PACK: FRIDAY (3/25)

A premium membership to QueryTracker

A copy of Save the Cat by Blake Snyder

A copy of Fragile Eternity by Melissa Marr

A query letter critique by me

A five-page critique by Vickie Motter, Agent Extraordinaire from Andrea Hurst Literary Management

GOOD LUCK to everyone who enters!

Carolina Valdez Miller writes YA Paranormal. Usually in the middle of the night. She also reviews kid lit for the Bookanistas. She’s represented by Vickie Motter of Andrea Hurst Literary Management.

Thank you so much for participating in my week of giveaways, Carol! Lots of people may already know you from your blog and/or from The Bookanistas. But for our new followers, tell us a little bit about the book you pitched to your agent, Vickie Motter of Andrea Hurst Literary Management.

Thanks so much for having me, Cambria! So excited to be your AGENT-SISTER!!

As for my book, I can’t say too much about it yet. But I can tell you it’s a YA Paranormal set in Chicago. It’s about a sixteen year old runaway who encounters someone she didn’t expect to meet or fall in love with. He’s the only person who could really help her, while she’s pretty much the only person who could help him, and yet is unwilling to do so, because to help him could kill him.

Oooh…love, suspense, runaways! Sounds fantastic! How did you come up with the idea for it?

The same way I get a lot of my ideas–just at the brink of falling asleep, a little thought popped into my head, sort of like a dream, but…it wasn’t. More like when you let your imagination run wild, knowing it’s not real. Can’t say what that pseudo-dream was yet, but the next day, I saw a boy on a moped with a girl riding behind him, squeezing her arms around his waist, her cheek pressed to his back. They were both wearing sweatshirts with hoods over their heads. I put the pseudo-dream together with that image on the moped, and my book baby was conceived.

I love that – real life inspiration meets pseudo-dream inspiration! What was your writing timeline for this book like?

It was my Nano project for 2009. I wrote it in just under 4 weeks. My first edit was finished in December 2009. And then in the New Year I sent it out to select betas. It’s been a really long process, gone through a lot of revisions and requests, left to sit for a bit while I worked on another project, and then it went through one mega-mondo revision at the end of 2010. When Vickie requested it, I changed one final plot element, so it saw yet another revision in the days before I sent it to her. Honestly, I have to wonder if any book of mine is ever done. I’m a bit of a perfectionist, and I’ll keep reworking my book babies until someone tells me to just stop already.

I hear you on that! Every time I read my manuscript, I want to change something! So you have one of those rare stories where you pitched to an agent in person and she requested your manuscript and eventually signed you! Since you’ve attended several conferences and—in my eyes—are basically a Conference-goer Expert, what are your top five tips for writers attending their first one?

Ha! I don’t know about expert. I have been to quite a few, but honestly, each one has terrified me. But if I were to try and offer 5 tips? Hmm…I’ll give it a shot.

• HAVE CONFIDENCE. And if you don’t? Fake it. Even if you’re quaking inside, ready to vomit at the first glimpse of an agent/editor, kick those shoulders back, paint a smile on your face, and have a firm grip when you shake someone’s hand. I mean, it’s okay to let your nerves show. Just try no to stutter and stumble or become ultra mousy when an agent/editor asks you a question. Just do the best you can. Remember these two things: 1. You have a book you love and believe in and 2. Agents/editors are people, too, doing the exact same thing you’re doing: trying to publish a kicking awesome book.

• BE PREPARED. To meet people and make friends and be social. Come with business cards and a smile. Bring your first chapter (I did have an agent ask me for some pages on the spot once), but not much more than that. And have an elevator pitch ready and rehearsed. It’s not the end of the world if you don’t, but you don’t want to miss out on a potential opportunity.

• DON’T BE A TOOL. Don’t hit up agents or editors in the bathroom or when they’re clearly not looking to be pitched to. This includes at the dinner table while they’re eating. Wait until after dessert, and then let them ask you what your book is about. They know why you’re there—they’re there for the same reason as you.

• RESEARCH YOUR CONFERENCES. Conferences are really great for networking and pitching opportunities, but some are better than others. It’s important you choose conferences that are right for what you want. So be sure to talk to people who have gone to a conference you’re considering. See what you can find with a Google search, too. Choose wisely.

• MAKE FRIENDS. Conferences present a really unique opportunity to commune with other people who get you. You may have a really strong support system at home, but even so, few non-writers will want to sit and talk about writing and publishing for hours on end. After the fifth consecutive hour of discussing trends in YA, your spouse will likely want to tape your lips shut. Also, I’ve met some truly amazing people at conferences, people I know I will be friends with for years to come. So don’t just network; befriend others, and then follow up after the conference.

AWESOME tips! So that begs the question – how do you balance conferences, blogging, family, and writing? What’s a typical “Carolina Day?”

Oh man, I just don’t sleep. I get at best five hours of sleep a night, but usually four. It’s not healthy, and I’ve probably shrunk my lifespan, but I’m really crazy driven. I devote as much time as I can to my family, but I also rely on them to help pick up the slack. I usually take care of blogging related work all day long and then I write at night until I can’t keep my eyes open any more. I’ve also learned how to step over toys on the floor and turn a blind eye to the permanent marker on the carpet for as long as humanly possible. Clearly, I’m no June Cleaver. But I’m okay with that. She could never have been a writer. Thank God my family and friends are so supportive. I take care of the essentials, hang with the family, and write, write, write.

If there was one book you were forced to read over and over until the world ended, what book would that be and why?

Hm, tough question. Probably LOVE YOU FOREVER because it’s one of the best books ever written. It makes me cry every time, and I’m hoping one of these days I’ll be able to read it without sobbing.

Ah, a tearjerker. I must say I do love me a good literary cry every once in a while. Okay, and now for some Mad Libs – Writer’s Edition! List the first words that pop into your head:

Noun: Pillow Lust

Place: Scribble Cave

Plural Noun: TBRs

Shape: Blob

Adverb: Gollumly

Past Tense Verb: Carolfied

Adjective: Truthy

Thanks a ton, Cambria! So excited to be able to celebrate your representation with you. It’s an honor to be interviewed by you.

Aww! Thanks and right back at ya! And now here are Carol’s words MADLIBBED:

Once upon a time there was a Pillow Lust who went to Scribble Cave for a conference. One day, she met up with a bunch of TBRs to see the sites. But Ghirardelli Blob was nothing compared to meeting a gollumly agent who Carolfied her story! And so the agent and the Pillow Lust became truthy friends and business partners as they embarked on a journey toward publication. The End.

Thanks Carol for ROCKING such a great interview!

And before I forget, here’s the winner of Prize Pack #1: A 5-page critique by Ricki Schultz and Something, Maybe by Elizabeth Scott:

Monica Mansfield!!!

And in honor of today’s guest, here are the awesome giveaways for Tuesday:

A -page critique by Carolina Valdez Miller, fellow Agent Sister!

AND

A signed copy of Feed by M.T. Anderson

The rules:

1. You must be a follower of this blog.
2. If you want to be eligible to win this prize pack, please stop by Carol’s blog and follow her too!
3. Complete the entry form below to enter. You can earn extra points for blogging about this contest (include a link in the Comments) or tweeting a link back to this post (@reply me on Twitter — @CambriaDillon — and make sure to leave your Twitter user name in the Comments).

Today’s giveaway will run until 10pm EST tonight and the winner will be announced in tomorrow’s post. All other entrants will be added to the drawing for the Grand Prize Pack on Friday. Unfortunately, I have to limit the contest to US residents only. Sorry international folk!

Don’t forget to stop by each day this week for more great interviews and chances to win these fabulous prizes:

PRIZE PACK #3: WEDNESDAY (3/23)

A query letter critique by Kristine Asselin, fellow Agent-Sister!

AND

A signed copy of The Summoning by Kelley Armstrong

PRIZE PACK #4: THURSDAY (3/24)

A 30-page critique by Martina Boone, of Adventures in Children’s Publishing!

AND

A  copy of Radiant Shadows by Melissa Marr

GRAND PRIZE PACK: FRIDAY (3/25)

A premium membership to QueryTracker

A copy of Save the Cat by Blake Snyder

A copy of Fragile Eternity by Melissa Marr

A query letter critique by me

A five-page critique by Vickie Motter, Agent Extraordinaire from Andrea Hurst Literary Management

GOOD LUCK!

• Attended SCBWI NY for the first time — The content of the breakout sessions was so-so, but I hung with wonderful people, and listened to keynotes by the ever-inspirational Lois Lowry, R.L. Stine, Jane Yolen, and Mark Teague. I even had a sentimental moment when I had keepsake books autographed for my daughter. I hope she loves them as much as I do.
• Writing the first draft of my new contemporary YA (told in dual narratives), tentatively titled GRIP
• Writing short stories to submit to online journals and literary publications so I can build up my cred and earn a little $ on the side
• Dealing with a 2 1/2-year-old who is DEFINITELY acting her age Every. Second. Of. The. Day
• Grinning from ear-to-ear about AWESOME news I can’t share yet

So that’s what I’ve been doing. Yeah. It may not seem like a lot, but Toddler Trouble is giving me a run for my money.

Here are some pics from SCBWI to tide you over. I only had my iPhone, so some of these I borrowed from Martina Boone and Carol Barreyre.

Enjoy!

Me and Cici Ramirez on the train to NYC!

Me and Carol Barreyre listening to R.L. Stine

Dinner out at SCBWI NY

Me, Marissa, and Cici at dinner

Ara Burkland & Martina

Carol & Debra Rossi

R.L. Stine's keynote!

A genius at work, signing

Please adopt me, Bob?

THE Lois Lowry. Literary Brilliance in the flesh. (Notice the half-eaten piece of chocolate to the left? A true writer.)

My daughter's fave book signed by Jane Yolen & Mark Teague!

In the meantime, I’ve got a new part-time job. Every Tuesday, you can find me over at Adventures in Children’s Publishing talking about craft and dishing out homework with Martina and Marissa. Today there’s a great post up on the RENNS sensory system and an especially sensory-laden photo meant to inspire your, uh, senses. And there *may* be a giveaway…but you won’t know unless you head over.

Tomorrow, I’ll post more about what I’ve been up to…it’s a doozy.

I have NEWS! And it needs my undivided attention! I won’t go into specifics except to say that if there was ever an incentive to finish the spit-polish on my MS, it’s this.

Which brings me to my Two Week Goal. I’m giving myself two weeks — 14 days/336 hours/20,160 minutes — to REVISE and QUERY. Why two weeks? Well, I’m almost there. All I need is a little push, a reasonable deadline (that I can be accountable for), to get me closer to the next step. But there’s always a bit of a risk when you’re about to send out that first batch of queries. What if *gasp* you think it’s ready but it’s really not? For me, that means my MS runs the risk of fatal Too-Soon-itis. And we all know how that goes.

So let me take you on a little journey to illustrate how querying too soon is like taking a trip to the ER:

• You make the obvious decision to go to the hospital because you have a broken arm/volatile stomach/third eye/no eye/other grotesque injury.

• You see a sign on the hospital door that says STOP! FALLING BRICKS ABOVE!

• You shrug because it’s a HOSPITAL and you’re SICK and no bricks are falling on your head. Stupid sign.

• You check in with the gum-smacking receptionist and take a seat in the germ-infested waiting area.

• You realize how bad waiting is going to suck because all you want to do is get through Triage and see a dang doctor for your broken arm/volatile stomach/third eye/no eye/other grotesque injury. But you’re stuck waiting it out in an area that’s too small, too packed, and too smelly for comfort.

• To pass the time until someone calls out your name, you decide to: read a magazine/suck at Sudoku/moan/cry for your Momma/play Hangman without the paper or pencil/plant your ass at the reception desk and tap your finger on the counter until someone pays attention to you. (I don’t suggest this last option because chances are good the guard standing by the sliding glass door is bored out of his mind and is itching–ITCHING–to throw a sucker to the curb.)

• FINALLY your name is called (and with minimal butchering of your last name) after just ten hours of waiting!

• You drag your tired and cranky and now-smelly body to Registration where you give every pertinent detail of your life and promise your first-born child/cat/dog/cupcake to a woman who eyes the small-hand on the clock like she’s getting paid to do that instead of processing your info.

• You wait again.

• Twenty-one hours later and a nurse with a glowing halo above her head and a parade of silky white doves following her every step, calls you back.

• You say a silent prayer and hope it’s really you she’s talking to.

• You gleefully tell the ER Doctor (who’s none too pleased at having drawn the short straw) all about your broken arm/volatile stomach/third eye/no eye/other grotesque injury. No detail is too small to leave out. This is your LIFE we’re talking about here.

• ER Doctor jabs you in parts you didn’t think you could get jabbed.

• After thirty seconds, she tells you your ailment was all in your head and if you just take this discharge sheet and follow the security guard outside, he’ll make sure you get to your car alright (and put you on the Never Allowed Back To The Hospital Again list).

• You drive  home, stare at the wall for a few days/weeks/months, then Eureeka! You realize maybe that ER Doctor was onto something. Maybe you just had a case of the Too-Soons and a good scour or ten in the shower was all you needed to bypass the ER waiting room in the first place.

Obviously, I’ve taken some liberties with this analogy. I mean c’mon — a third eye??? Regardless of how many orbital outlets someone does or doesn’t have, the point is that if you query too soon, your subconscious probably already knows this but you’ll most likely ignore it anyway and submit. And you know what? You might even get a request from Dream Agent’s assistant. Take that stupid subconscious! But if you queried too soon and are lucky enough to get past the slush reader, chances are pretty dang good you’ll get a big, fat “Not for me” from your Dream Agent. And when that happens, you’re pretty much SOL on querying that particular MS to Dream Agent again.

Why take the chance of ignoring sound advice when all you need is a rigorous scrub or two? Scrubbing is good, peeps. Use whatever you can — loofahs, that body wash with the exfoliating beads, good old-fashioned washcloth — just make sure you wash behind your ears and get between your toes. Your Dream Agent will thank you for it.

Photo Credit: Musical Burial by Official Twilamore

Small Fish, Big Pond

He had fisherman hands. Cracked. Hairy. And slippery enough to make it seem like his palms were really neoprene mitts in disguise. When he grabbed hold of my wrist, I remembered cringing at the contact.

“It’s easier if you don’t struggle.”

Somehow, I doubted this. I remembered all those stupid stories about females too naïve for their own good. Females who jumped at the chance to have a male smile at them and say something debonair like, “The boys in your school must go crazy when they see you.”

He didn’t say that to me. If he had, things might’ve turned out different. As it were, he yanked me over the dock and hissed a “stop thrashing, will ya?” as he pressed his fingers into the muscle between my neck and my shoulder. It stung and for one second, I froze and forgot to struggle.

My face kissed the sand when he tossed me. I expected softness, like the powdery stuff on the Gulf’s white beaches. But it wasn’t anything like that. It was gritty and mixed with what felt like leftover bits of the crumbling concrete pillar by the pier.

“Come on, I don’t want to hurt you,” he said.

And just like that, the only thing left behind was the impression my cheek had made in the sand.

* * *

The water frothed by my stomach. I expected it to be as cold as everything else. But it felt like sun-ripened water after nine in the morning.

The surf swept up again. This time, it washed over my stomach and splashed my chest and my face. It was only a matter of time before those waves owned me. I ground my teeth and tried rolling the other way, toward the gritty—dry—sand. But as soon as I wiggled my hips, the trench my body had dug opened up and swallowed me into a deeper, wetter, colder hole. The sand turned into hardening cement. I couldn’t feel my lower half.

When the next wave rushed over me, my body slipped out of its skin. But something wasn’t right. The familiar tingling sensations in my extremities—like a deep stretch after a long nap or the arousing zip of salt water pumping through my veins—was absent.

I blinked. Bubbles swarmed my face and it took me a moment before I truly realized how bad this situation was for me.

Liquid filled my lungs. Instinct took over and I fought to keep my head above the surface, to guide my arms through the water and kick my legs in propulsion. But red seeped out of my limbs.

I stopped moving.

No. There were no limbs. Not anymore. I remembered now. He’d cut them off, thrown them into the ocean like worm guts or broken lures. And he’d left me here to die, to drown in my blood and in the unfulfilled dream of being something other than me.

© 2010 Cambria Dillon

(Author’s Note: So apparently when I see iPods on the sand, I think about torture and drowning. Sorry Steve Jobs. And because I think my concept is a little more subtle this week, I’ll clarify here: the narrator in my story was a fish. The guy was someone fishing who caught her and didn’t think the little swimmer he hooked had any big aspirations…but she did. She wanted to be anything but a fish. So there you go. Catch and release, peeps. Catch and release. )

*Don’t forget to check out other stories from YAFF Muse participants:

RM Gilbert
Min Buchanan
Rebekah Purdy
Traci Kenworth
Vanessa Barger

Around the Streetmarket by Plamen Stoev

Black Summer Rain

“That black looks hot on your feet.” Gavin smiles at me. It’s the sort of smile he uses when he wants something.

“Not feet,” I say. “Toes.” I wiggle them to show him exactly what I mean. He plants his hands on the car’s hood on either side of me, and leans in, way in, until he fills my field of vision. “You’re going to make me spill polish all over your paint job if you don’t be careful.” Actually, it would get on the towel under my butt and not the paint job, but I give him a gentle nudge anyway.

“I don’t care,” he says, plucking the bottle from my fingers.

I’m not sure where he sets my Knocking On Death’s Door nail polish because he pushes me back until my spine kisses the curve of the hood. It was eighty-seven degrees at noon so the top of the car is warm—no, wait. Not warm. Warm is like apple pie after ten seconds in the microwave. The car is scorching and I wonder if my thin white shirt will melt off my body.

Gavin nuzzles my neck and angles his head so he can blow down my top, between my cleavage. He knows this drives me crazy.

“What do you want?” I ask, and my voice is a little breathy, a combo of the humidity and Gavin’s hard-on teasing the space between my legs.

There’s a naughty hint in his eye when he flicks his gaze at my mouth. It’s in the lazy way he blinks, like he’s trying to hypnotize me, and in the way his mouth puckers just a bit. I swallow hard because I know what he wants.

* * *

It’s one of those flash storms, the kind that catches you while you’re walking home from school or getting the mail or rolling a joint on the hood of your boyfriend’s car.

Gavin curses and grabs the rolling papers and baggie before he ducks toward his house. I laugh because summer rain is my favorite. Closing my eyes, I turn my head to the crying sky and open my mouth. Precipitation doesn’t taste as clean as it did when I was a little girl, but it’s not as bad as, say, drinking from the toilet.

My shirt is soaked through and I realize anyone who wanted to could look out their window and see my flimsy bra with the black stars as clear as if I wasn’t wearing anything.

The rain patters harder and it’s the only thing I let myself hear. Pure. Powerful. A shiatsu massage for your ear drums. When I turn, my breath hitches because Gavin’s an inch from my face. He holds an umbrella over his head, except one side dips at a forty-five-degree angle so a cascade of water pelts his shoulder. I don’t get why he bothers with it.

“Come inside,” he says. “I want to smoke before my parents get home.”

I glance at his car, then the street. When I turn back, he has a mixed expression on his face. I wink and say, “I have a better idea.”

* * *

I tell Gavin to slow down around the bend because I don’t want to burn myself. For once, he actually listens and we pass the street that takes you into the farmer’s market without any problem.

The rain has scared everyone off the road, so I place the lit joint between his lips and let my head fall back against the headrest. My eyelids flutter because it’s almost impossible to keep them open when so much smoke is trapped inside.

* * *

They say it wasn’t Gavin’s fault. That the driver coming from the opposite direction took his eyes off the road and didn’t see us in time. But that driver can’t really say anything, least of all the truth, and no one bothers to ask me.

I roll my eyes at an EMT whose face has turned a brilliant shade of albino. But she sees right through me like I’m not even there, like she doesn’t notice I’m plastered with rain. My star-spangled bra practically winks at every John, Dick, and Harry but no one gazes for more than a second. When a firefighter storms by, I wiggle my black-painted toes. But that gets zero reaction, too. And I find it odd no one asks where my shoes are or why we were driving in the first place.

If they did, I’d say, “Because summer rain is my favorite.” With drops so big they’ll wash you away.

© 2010 Cambria Dillon

(Author’s Note: The girl in the pic looks like a bit of a rebel, no? I mean, who runs barefoot in the rain? The street is just so…gross. Well, that small detail is what inspired me for this week’s story. It started with the simplest activity of painting toes and ended with a stoner-ghost. The mind works in mysterious ways!)

*Don’t forget to check out other stories from YAFF Muse participants:

RM Gilbert
Min Buchanan
Rebekah Purdy
Traci Kenworth
Vanessa Barger
Penny Randall

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