I'm sure y'all have guessed what a visual writer I am—while music engages all of my senses, having something visual as a touchstone can really help me illustrate the finer points. (Like last week and the lipstick cases) Other times, however, it serves as the jumping off point for something completely unexpected.

Which brings me to today's Tuesday Teaser

The images:




The teaser, from Between Here & Gone

"Why Las Vegas?"

"Because that's where she always goes first." He spared me a glance as he shifted and accelerated past a large produce truck, the speed and deftness of the move making my breath catch as effectively as the alien landscape that unfurled before us as we broke free of the shadow of the truck. A seemingly endless sweep interrupted only by the occasional gnarled scrubby tree and washed in shades of gold and brown, this desert struck me with the same sense of unease as the urban jungle of New York. Extraordinary, but not particularly comfortable or welcoming.

In a matter of moments, the snorting, backfiring truck was reduced to a dot in the sideview mirror, leaving us alone on the highway with only the growl of the car's engine and the rush of the wind as accompaniment. Both more than adequate excuses for avoiding further conversation which I would have expected Jack to take advantage of. But he surprised me, sending another sidelong glance my direction, accompanied by a soft, resigned laugh.

"The wheels in that head of yours—they're going fast and furious, aren't they?"

"I—" I ground my teeth as I looked away, aggravated at the continued transparency I couldn't seem to help around this man and terrified of what I might reveal. I resolutely focused my attention on the scenery and the surprisingly abundant wildlife, from the lizards lazily watching from the side of the road to long-eared rabbits dashing alongside the car as if challenging it to a race. Above us, a lone bird flew, its wingspan majestic as it soared gracefully through the gilt-edged sky. Fascinated, I watched, catching a flash of red feathers as it suddenly tucked its wings against its side and dove in a terrifying blur toward the desert floor. A moment later, it swooped back into view with a triumphant cry, hapless prey squirming futilely within the grasp of its claws. Feeling an eerie sense of kinship with the victim, I shuddered and returned my attention to Jack, who wore an enigmatic half-smile as if he knew precisely what was going through my mind.
"I have to admit, it's fascinating to watch the wheels turn. I wonder if maybe that's why I don't offer everything up right off the bat."

Giving up, I snapped, "I suspect it's more that you're not accustomed to being held accountable to anyone else."

"Not true. Although I can see where you might think that."

"Really?" I crossed my arms, aware that I no doubt looked—and sounded—like a petulant little girl. "When was the last time anyone called you on the carpet? For anything?"

"Well, unless it's a liquor-induced hallucination, I seem to recall you doing a fairly admirable job of holding me accountable for my idiocy. Telling me how much I was going to regret my actions." With the road a straight, unbroken ribbon ahead of us, he was able to turn and face me, head on, one questioning eyebrow raised.

Because this story is just demanding every damned thing from me. And I know it seems a little off kilter in places, but believe me, it works.

Cast Your Fate to the Wind- Vince Guaraldi Trio
So Much in Love- The Tymes
Sunday Will Never Be the Same- Spanky and Our Gang
How Can I Be Sure- The Rascals
Hold Me, Thrill Me, Kiss Me- Mel Carter
Anyone Who Had a Heart- Dusty Springfield
Walk Away Renee- The Left Banke
Bus Stop- The Hollies
Wouldn't it Be Nice- The Beach Boys
Daydream Believer- The Monkees
You've Lost That Lovin' Feeling- The Righteous Brothers
In My Life- The Beatles
Get Together- The Youngbloods
House of the Rising Sun- The Animals
You Don't Have to Say You Love Me- Dusty Springfield

This one evolved in an interesting sort of manner. While the story takes place primarily in 1965, some of these recordings are from a year or two later. It had more to do with the "feel" of what I was going for here. As such, I actually stuck to era-specific recordings rather than any remakes. And yes, Dusty is the only repeat artist in the bunch-- that may change as the playlist evolves over time. It's funny though, I can't seem to make a playlist for this story without a Dusty chart. It's like she's the patron saint of this story.

So.

Damned.

Tired.

No, I'm not doing NaNo this year, not officially, but something about the frenzied writing atmosphere of the month of November (not to mention the marginally cooler weather) has finally got my ass in gear. I've been writing more steadily than I have in weeksmonths, really. So the story is well and truly on the backside, which is a relief, frankly. Even more of a relief is the fact that I finally saw glimmers of what the rest of the story arc looks like and was able to sit down and outline the rest of the story. I won't lie, I was terrified— this is easily the latest in a WIP that I've stopped to do this. Usually, I get going on a story, write about five or six chapters, get to know the story, the language, the characters, then I sit down and write a chapter by chapter outline of how the rest of the story is going to go. This is extremely valuable for me because I'm a fairly consistent writer in terms of chapter length and it helps give me a rough idea of final word count, which, considering how wordy I can be (quit laughing, dubious_virtue), is an important marker for me. I mean, ultimately, I'm gonna write the story how it comes out, but something about having that little counter/marker in my head helps.


Anyhow...

Eighteen chapters and 65K into this bastard, and I finally knew how the rest of this was going to shake down. I don't know if it's because I knew the basic arc of the beginning, or probably more likely, that I had no freakin' clue until this far in because it kept taking left turns to Albuquerque, but I finally got it outlined. The good news is, it should fit within my 100K limit (thank God, because I was beginning to really worry). Of course, it took yet another left turn to Albuquerque, but at this point, I might have been concerned if it hadn't—worried that I was missing something. As it turned out, the left turn is a huge thing, solving a mystery that's plagued me since nearly the beginning. *note to character: next time, wouldja let me in on your issues just a wee bit earlier?*

So now, I have shiny new scenes and ten pages of handwritten outline with which to gird my loins for the homestretch. My hand hurts like a mother and I'm mainlining ibuprofen, but I have this as reward:



And my favorite new bit from the MS:

"Shh…"

My heart stuttered, then began racing again. "What?"

A crooked grin lifted one corner of his mouth as one eye opened to stare at me blearily. Lifting one finger to his lips, he whispered, "Be vewwy vewwy quiet. I'm hunting wabbits."

"Be vewwy vewwy quiet. I'm hunting wabbits."

Startled, I jerked my head around, noticing for the first time the flickering screen of the large console television with the Saturday morning cartoons playing, Elmer Fudd and Bugs Bunny engaging in their endless chases and attempts to best each other.

Releasing a long breath, I turned back to Jack. "I would never have taken you for a Bugs Bunny fan, Jack."

"Why not? Their drama's never ending and one's an eternal fool." Chuckling, Jack raised the bottle of Wild Turkey to his lips and took a healthy slug of the 101 proof without a single wince. Then again, how could he possibly feel anything, I noted, taking in the empty bottle lying on the floor by the bed. At least this one was still reasonably full.

You wrote 1500 words and tamed a beast of a chapter yesterday.

Yay.

But now you're being utterly chickenshit about opening the file and looking at what you wrote, especially since the last couple hundred words happened well after midnight and could be in Esperanto for all you know.

Oh puh-leeze. Get over it, Miss Thing. Pull up your big girl panties and get on with it, k? We'll tell you if it sucks. And tell you what— if you suck it up and read the chapter, we'll send you pretty boys like this one.



Okay, perhaps that's a bit unrealistic in that, "how on earth would we ship him?" sort of way, but we can at least send you pictures of pretty boys as inspiration, right? Like this one:



Or this one:



So there you go. Pretty men to look at and you know, it's really not going to be that bad. You always think it is and it never is. And don't go being all self-deprecating and saying "worse" because you know that's not true either. It may not be perfect, but it's at least there and can be improved on and gives you a jumping off point for the next segment.

It's progress, doofus. So get on with it.

When I was speculating on my possible insanity and trying to purge myself of a passage that was driving me bananas?

Relax, I've actually moved on... sort of. But at the same time, that passage still wasn't right. My lovely critique partner, dubious_virtue had pointed out a small thing that pulled her out of the sequence of events (and of course, she was right) and while I dutifully marked it and moved on... sort of, I still couldn't shake the feeling it wasn't quite right.

So, this just continues as an exercise and example of how a scene evolves (and the perfectionist Virgo lizard brain works). Mind you, I don't ever give craft classes or presume to tell anyone my way is the way it has to be done, but I just thought it would be fun for people to see how things change.

And to keep record of the crazies for when the Cabana Boys in white coats come visiting.

( The scene, reworked... again )

I'm really, really, really going to leave it alone now. I think.

Okay, I am going to freaking purge myself of this goddamned passage on which I've spent the last three hours. Because if I post it here, then it's out there. And once it's out there, I can't take it back, right? Unless y'all tell me it sucks. Because you will, right? Tell me if it sucks? And then, I can fix it. I hope.

Y'know, it's quite possible I'm insane.

Oy.

Anyhow, fly little passage, be free!

He turned, slowly navigating the steep narrow path through a thickly wooded ravine that despite the well-tended gravel driveway, maintained a sense of undisturbed mystery.

"Jack, you don't think this is some kind of joke, do you?"

"It would hardly be the first time." He slowed further, pulling his sunglasses off in order to better see through the sudden twilight.

No… I did not like the way this felt. My heart raced, my breath catching in rapid shallow gasps at the sensation of forging through darkness with no idea what lay on the other side. My fingernails dug into the edges of the seat as I fought the memories.

And just as I was about to suggest that we leave, that we get out rather than continue further into the nerve-wracking darkness, the trees broke into a clearing flooded with light, the path widening into a perfectly oval drive crowned with the most perfect house I had ever seen. Or rather, less house than fantasy. Spans of glass and natural wood planks with mossy green trim giving the overall impression that the building had emerged one segment at a time from the earth on which it sat until nature decreed it done. Behind the house the Pacific stretched in wild, vivid contrast, white-capped waves sweeping in before suddenly disappearing with a crash and hiss, the occasional fine mist springing up over the cliff's edge, sparkling against the burnt orange horizon.

It was a scene out of a fairy tale.

So. Anyone who semi-regularly reads here knows that my latest adult MS, Between Here & Gone has been giving me fits.

To put it mildly.

It's been a series of fits and starts and missteps the likes of which I've never experienced with any other manuscript. You'd think it was because I hadn't thought it out completely, but thing is, I had. I had my storyline, arc, characters, the conclusion, everything I need to get going.

I thought.

Originally, this story was to be a dual first person POV between two women, Natalia and Eva, very similar of background, but with wildly differing life's experiences leading them to become very different individuals, at least on the surface. Their lives intersect and boom-- you have story of discovery. Each woman learns from the other.

I thought.

I started with Natalia. And kept going. And kept going. Every time I thought it was time to insert Eva's POV, it just didn't seem like the right point in the story until finally, I realized, I wasn't hearing Eva's voice. At all. Her story, compared to Natalia's was simpler, her voice not as compelling as a narrative character. I simply never heard her as a POV character. Okay, fine. I figured she still had a role-- I needed her as a foil for Natalia, someone to play off of, a mirror of sorts in the "But for the grace of timing and the gods, go I" sort of way.

I thought.

When Eva finally did show up there were two issues. One, I had already acknowledged-- that it was far too late in the story to introduce her as a narrative character. It was the second issue that would potentially prove more problematic-- she's an incredibly potent character. A little Eva goes a long, long way. Oy. Seriously... oy.

And I realized, those scenes I had amorphously plotted out that had the two of them interacting? Yeah. Weren't going to work. They were going to have to be scrapped because they didn't advance the story forward and didn't even work well as bridge scenes, setting up the rest of the story arc. (Unlike some authors, I think bridge scenes can be important-- they serve as both transitions and to provide a breather for the reader-- a calm before the story, if you will.) Eva is still important as a mirror for Natalia, but this can be accomplished by having her appear in two ways--physically, in small doses and through the experiences of the other characters. Her other purpose, as a catalytic character is effectively achieved in the same way-- small doses of actual screen time combined with the understanding/learning of other characters' experiences with her. Perhaps more importantly for this story, Eva becomes a more sympathetic character with a bit of a scrim between her and Natalia and by extension, the reader. You're allowed to see more of the woman behind the façade if you're not experiencing her directly-- that's how potent Eva is. Or I could just be a massive wimp and not have the chops to write her directly in such a manner that the reader can sympathize with her. It's not that she's two-dimensional, which is what I'm sure this sounds like, it's just that she's so in-your-face, she's the kind of person you need distance from in order to see the complete person clearly. I know this syndrome well-- it's why I live hundreds of miles from my family. Seriously.

The fact that Eva as a POV character has been so elusive throughout has revealed that this story is actually only Natalia's story-- her experiences, her growth, her journey, her ultimate destination, which ultimately had the effect of bringing other characters to the forefront-- a whole segment of Natalia's background revealed itself because of Eva's elusiveness, not to mention, a character who had been intended as a secondary rose to prominence and provided another angle to Natalia's story, further pushing Eva to the background.

So.

Do I have all the answers and a new storyline all tidily in place?

Oh hell no. This story has been less left turns to Albuquerque as it's been a traffic circle in Rome at rush hour. I'm attempting to go along for the ride, but I'm torn between hanging on for dear life and desperately wanting to hurl my lungs out all while trying to read the road signs and figuring out where I'm supposed to go.

I knew Eva was going to be trouble from the get go. I just didn't know how much. I just hope that by the end of it, I've made the right decisions in going along with the organic flow, rather than trying to force it into the tidy box I'd prepared for it.

This happens rarely, but every so often a bit of dialogue or scene snippet occurs to me out of sequence. Of course I write it down then save it until its turn appears. (Curse of the Linear Writer.)

Anyhow, this is a bit from a section that's going to be coming up soon, if I can get my stuck ass in gear and actually, you know, WRITE.

*ahem*

Our characters are about to embark on a cross-country road trip chasing after another character who's gone AWOL and who could be, if left to her own devices, a danger to herself.

( From Between Here & Gone )

Damn. Made myself weepy.

My plot bunny hath been boiled.

I'm seriously, seriously considering completely altering the direction of the plot for the final third of Between Here & Gone. It'll still end up in the same place, but the events leading up to one of the inciting incidents I think can be condensed because one of the players involved is, you know, insane and the crazy don't need much in the way of excuses to do their thing.

Oh HELL.

I may need to sit down with paper and pen and track this out, chart style. I think, if I can pull this off, it'll ultimately help move the story along and help me bring it in under 100K, which these days, is a valuable asset.

But nevertheless, I have a teaser. I really loved this passage.

( From Between Here & Gone )

Every time I think I can't do this story justice, I manage to write something that makes me think that maybe, just maybe, I can.

I am such a gigantic dweeb.

There I am, writing along, and I throw in an offhand reference to Revlon's Cherries in the Snow lipstick. Which leads to me googling to doublecheck, because I'm almost certain that Cherries in the Snow was around in 1964, but I want to make absolutely sure and I knew that Fire and Ice had been around, so I could always use that, but I really, really wanted to use Cherries in the Snow.

Which led to reading about how Dorian Leigh was the model for both ad campaigns and was indeed, considered the first supermodel, only eclipsed by her little sister, Suzy Parker, who became the face of Coco Chanel and downloading pictures of both because they're so striking and very evocative of Natalie and Eva, my female leads. Oh, and how Charles Revson really, really freakin' hated Estee Lauder.

And... two hours later, I have ascertained that yes, Cherries in the Snow was available in 1964.

I iz dorktastic.

::facepalms::

Oh, and for those who might be wondering...

Dorian/Natalie



Suzy/Eva

Chapter One, recently revised.











One

May 1959

"Talia, I'm going to be sick."

"Oh no. Otra vez? How can you even have anything left?"

But Carlito was already leaning against me, the harsh, dry rattle of his heaves contrasting with the cold wet sounds of the waves slapping against the sides of the boat. While he gagged and jack-knifed into my lap, I desperately groped for the bowl we'd tried to keep handy ever since we ran out of the Coca-Colas that we'd saved mostly for him and his delicate stomach.

I was too late. He was losing what little remained, nothing but bile at this point, soaking through my skirt, hot and smelling acid and faintly, ridiculously, of maduros, perhaps ever so slightly rotting, but that was probably just a product of exhausted and overwrought imagination. Wistful memory of the meal served at home before we left, colluding with the future.

Nothing out of the ordinary.

Everything out of the ordinary.

( More... )

Between Here and Gone Copyright © 2009 Barbara Caridad Ferrer

Anyone interested in some of Between Here and Gone?

The wankers. (Teleflora, that is.)

Anyhoo...

Cabana Boys. Yes, aside from the parade of incredibly priced per thirty seconds advertising spots, there was a game. Actually, a really freakin' good one. The Steelers won. I was half rooting for the Cardinals because a) I like underdogs and b) I lived in Cleveland for ten years ('nuff said). But overall, I had no real pony in this race and I just wanted a good game and a good game I got. I mean, holy cats was that some finish or what?

So in honor of the Steelers, I give you our first Cabana Boy, the lovely, lovely, Troy Polamalu. He looked so cute after the game, just staring around, sort of stunned...



What's not to like, right?

And you know, in watching the ads that didn't enrage me, I found myself oddly charmed by the Witch Mountain remake/reboot. I didn't much care for the originals as a kid, but this one looks cute and bonus! Dwayne Johnson (The Rock). Not only is he hot like damn and whoa, he actually has pretty decent comic timing.



( Gimme more, gimme more! )

And did I mention I finished my #)$@#$@)#*(&#$(!! proposal, in part because of and in part in spite of these two:



Boys... what can you do, right?

Okay. Time to pull on my Big Girl Panties again and see if what I wrote during yesterday's jag is any good.

You guys are good for me.

Because after I pulled on the Big Girl Panties and opened the file. I started writing... and writing... and writing...

And this $@(#59@(&%*#@(&$ proposal is DONE!

Or at least, it's where I envisioned the proposal ending, on a really dandy hook, all major players introduced. Of course, it's ninety pages past where I thought it would originally end, but that's mostly Remy's fault. And Jack's.

Bastards.

But handsome ones.

Right Remy?



Jack?



Yeah, yeah... you're handsome pains in the arse is what you are. Both of you. Causing me all sorts of grief and good Lord, I must be beyond exhausted if I'm berating my imaginary characters.

Oy.

I need a shower. Then to watch boys in tight pants throw an oddly shaped ball around.

And ice cream.

And maybe a pony.

And then tomorrow, I get to go back to the beginning and retrofit the early chapters so they fall in line with the left turns the latter ones produced.

Question for the writer hivemind. After a late-night writing jag, are you afraid to go back and look at what you wrote the night before for fear it might suck or be in a foreign language?

Tell me I'm being an enormous chickenshit for being afraid to look at the file.

Then take me out back, slap me, and make me put my Big Girl Panties on.

So a couple of days ago, I posted on the MTV Books blog on how I'm a giant clod. Which of course, y'all know.

So what does this have to do with pretty or Teaser Tuesday? Not a lot, actually, other than the end result of my latest clod-escapades. Which was I wound up lopping off a chapter I'd been struggling with for four weeks from Between Here and Gone.

It's not because I didn't love the chapter-- OMG, I so did. Pretty, pretty chapter. Building tension and everything. But as I said over on the MTV Books blog, it was the wrong chapter. Which is why I'd been struggling with it for four weeks. Thirteen hundred words in four weeks, each one like being dragged over one of those tire guards in parking lots. You know, the ones that are supposed to keep you from going the wrong way?

(Can you tell I'm just a little disgusted?)

Seriously though-- the four weeks should've been my first clue. It has never taken me four weeks to write 1300 words. In fact, after I lopped off the chapter and started on a new chapter 13, I wrote 1300 words in two hours. (Another sign-- all those damned thirteens.)

Oy.

Anyhow, I thought I might post up my deleted chapter. If only because I liked it, dammit. But it wasn't the right chapter.

You'd think I'd learn...

( Deleted CH 13 from Between Here and Gone )

Okay, first things first-- y'all just so completely overwhelmed me with the lovely response and comments on my excerpt yesterday that I went ahead and chose not one, but two winners. I don't think Gabriella has posted them yet at her blog, but I wanted to let the winners know since I can't stand keeping fun news to myself.

Yeah, I'm horrible at Christmas too.

Anyhow, my winners are mskat and tortoiseshell. (I really need a little .gif of Kermit doing his "YAAAAAAAY" flaily thing.)

Kat, I have your addy-- Tortoiseshell, email me at fashionista35@comcast.net with your snail mail addy and I will do my best to get these packages out ASAP.

In the meantime, please stop by Gabriella's blog and read her excerpt. I know how amazing it feels to get that validation that someone's reading your work and enjoying it. I can't even begin to express to you all how very much it meant. As I said in one of my comment responses, this story is so, so dear to me that it's almost terrifying to put it out there for large numbers of people to read. It's akin to standing on a street corner in your underwear. The Naked Cowboy I ain't, y'all. I don't even wear two piece bathing suits, you know?

Anyhow, thanks again!

And ION, I got myself a new little toy yesterday. I started working out again as part of my "Lose the thirty-five stress pounds I put on in the last eighteen months" program and while I love my 160GB iPod Classic like burning, it's just a little too bulky to tote around. (I know, I know...) Besides, it lives in my car most of the time and that temperamental German beast has issues if I'm constantly connecting and disconnecting the iPod. I know, I know... German engineering. What can you do?

Anyhow, I went yesterday and purchased a new iPod Nano. It's soooooo cute! He's 8GB and wee and adorable and purple and I named him Gambit.



Don't look at me like that-- purple's a pretty signature color for Gambit. I mean, just look at the trailer for the movie-- the color of the shirt Remy's wearing? Or this image?



And my Gambit figurine has got the purple body armor. So yeah, a purple Nano named Gambit is perfectly appropriate, chère. *g*

Provided, of course, that LJ doesn't blow up in the meantime. Because really, isn't that how it always goes?

And Margo Candela's winner is... (drumroll, please)

Sandra L. from Fullerton, CA!!

Congrats, Sandra!

In the meantime, since I have no upcoming books to promote *sob* I decided, in the New Year's spirit of the tour to post a chapter from my current baby, Between Here & Gone (AKA, the sixties story for regular blog followers), that takes place appropriately enough, on New Year's Eve. The rest is pretty much as it's been throughout the blog tour. At the end of the excerpt I'll ask a question, you answer in the comments section (and it doesn't matter if you're not a regular LJ user, you can still post an answer-- just make sure you sign your name so I have some idea who you are) and I'll pull a winner at random from the correct answers. And since I don't have an upcoming book to promote *sob* this is what I'll be giving away:



Yep, signed copies of both of my books, Adiós to My Old Life and It's Not About the Accent along with a nifty little backpack/bag thingie. And it's insulated! You can use it to carry lunch or the cat food or whatever!

So anyway...

Since the excerpt I'm posting is actually Chapter Five, a little set up: while the majority of this story is set in the United States during 1964-65, this chapter opens in Havana, Cuba, on New Year's Eve, 1958. Just before everything changed, especially for Natalia. Seventeen, a child of privilege, and as confident and deeply, impossibly in love as only a seventeen year-old girl can be.

Oh, and because I don't have a nifty cover, I'll share with you the graphic I made for inspiration, trying to get that elegant mid-sixties vibe:




Five

New Year's Eve 1958

"Oye, Nicolito, shh…"

"You worry too much, Natalia. No one's going to find us here."

"You really imagine we're the only ones with this idea?" I pushed at his dinner-jacketed chest, as if to put some respectable distance between us, but not really. Even though it wasn't cold, the damp breeze coming off the ocean reached even this secluded, banana tree-sheltered niche around the side of the Yacht Club and made me grateful for his body's warmth, especially as he pulled me closer, drawing my hands beneath his jacket until they rested against the smooth, strong length of his back.

"No, not the only ones, not by a long shot, Talia. Just the only ones with this idea who know of this particular spot." His hands caressed my shoulders, left bare by the strapless sweetheart bodice of my gown, his fingertips teasing along my collarbone in a way that trapped my breath and whatever protest might be forming, low in my throat. "Mira, have you ever known anyone to find our secret place? Even those crabs we liberated from the kitchen?"

"Okay, okay... you're right." A high-pitched giggle managed to escape around my quickening breaths, recalling how Nicolito and I, aged ten and seven, had decided in our childish indignation that the poor crabs needed their freedom, so we'd led a covert raid on the nearby kitchen, freeing a number of the beasts from their holding tanks before we'd been discovered and marched, defiant and unrepentant, back to our mothers. Luckily, the cost of a dozen crabs meant next to nothing to either of our families and rather than punished, we'd been petted and indulged for our ingenuity and especially for Nicolito's sense of fairness and justice and most especially, his initiative in executing such a plan. It would serve him well, the mamás and tías commented with satisfied nods as they sipped from their fragrant tacitos de café, when he grew up and became a lawyer and eventually, took over his family's vast business holdings.

Peeking through a nearby window, I imagined I could see the ghosts of our younger selves, slinking along the walls, pestering the staff as we'd been wont to do. Ten years on, we no longer lurked in the corners of the kitchen, hoping for one of the tolerant cooks or waitresses to give us a sweet pastelito or a bowl of fresh, hot mariquita chips before shooing us off, but rather huddled together in the cool,leafy alcove just outside our former haunt, discovered one blistering summer day around the same time we'd discovered that we liked each other as far more than childhood playmates and friends.

( Continued behind the cut )

Between Here and Gone Copyright © 2009 Barbara Caridad Ferrer

So, that's it and I truly hope you enjoyed it. This story is so, so special to me. It's another one of those stories of my heart. Anyhow, my trivia question for you:

What dream school did Nico give up in order to attend the University of London?

Remember, answer in the comments and if you're not an LJ member, answer anyway, just make sure to sign your name. I'll pull a winner at random and it'll be announced on tomorrow's blog stop, Gabriella Hewitt.

Thanks so much for stopping by!

Given that I posted the partial for Now or Never yesterday, it would seem like I'm a giant ego-whore if I posted something else today.

I mean, I am, but at least I'm aware of it and considering that I'm going to post my Chica Lit offering on Thursday, it could easily be considered overkill, y'know?

Something did occur to me about the Chica Lit post, though. I wonder why it didn't even occur to me to post something from SO SHE DANCES (AKA, the Carmen story)? Is it because I'm planning on redoing it anyway? Or is it something more? Is it still a little too raw for me to look at, given the circumstances surrounding the book?

It was funny—my sister read the entirety of that manuscript while she was visiting just before Christmas. She also read what I have of Between Here and Gone. She loved both. I know what you're thinking—she's my sister, of course she's going to love what I write.

Yeah, think again, Kemo.

My sister, and my husband too, for that matter, are two of the most critical, discriminating readers I've ever met in my life. For the longest time, I was petrified to allow either of them to look at any of my work for fear of what they'd say. Not that they'd be deliberately cruel, but knowing that this was something I wanted to do, not just because I loved it, but as a profession—and also knowing my high standards, that I'd hate for anything subpar to be floating around with my name on it, they wouldn't hold back, either, if they thought I needed to hear it.

I had to get criticism from perfect strangers—feel more well-versed and secure in my voice and style— before I could gird my loins enough to let those two near my work.

So yeah, when my sister says she loves it—when my husband says that he sees my work become deeper and closer to the L-word—I preen like a damned peacock showing off for the cute peahen in the yard.

Anyhow, given that my sister loved SO SHE DANCES as much as she did, it's kind of funny that it didn't even occur to me.

Going back to Chica Lit, today's contributor is New York Times Bestselling author, Alisa Valdes Rodriguez (The Dirty Girls Social Club) with the first chapter of a Young Adult novel, The Bug Girl.

Go, check it out.

I'll be here.