When you live the life of a hermit, communication skills generally become rather rudimentary. Mine usually ride the range of technology. I feel safe in the world of black and white blinking cursors. There, thingsare black and white. What I write is what I mean. If there is a suggestion of something deeper, it can be uncovered in the permanent pages. Face to face conversations, and (god forbid!) phone calls, make my life a living hell. Suddenly body language can tell a story that contrasts tone of voice. You can lose yourself not only in the juxtaposition of contradictions, but you may also lose the tried and true signs of attraction—signs which I recently sleuthed the Internet for. (A bit ridiculous? I was desperate. And I flirt like a broken faucet.)
I should have a button that says, “Don’t talk to me. I’m Awkward.” Someone better watch out.

Monday, June 18, 2012

Spoiler Alert: I am writing the Epilogue to a story unfinished.

To put the epilogue on a story that hasn't ever been written... Would that be considered a faux pas in the writing world? Readers will often skip to the end of a book to find out what happens to a struggling character (I know I am guilty of this!), but never before have I heard of an author who would willing ruin the end before the story even had a chance to begin.

Then again, I am no author, and any time I have attempted to write, the end has sprouted wings and soared--only briefly after I have defined my characters with names and family trees.

So, true to my colors, here comes the end:

I discovered the fate of Nolan. After being blown off with an imaginary girlfriend and forced to watch as a girl I called my friend forgot my name and became first the real thing, and then nothing, I have learned what it would have truly taken to woo this boy's heart: Six months, a few years of seniority, and a homegrown history.

The wedding is set to take place this fall.
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