Writing this teen fiction has been an interesting process. The intimidation of the market looms, the editing of inconsistencies in the novel, the switching and shifting of words, lines, and non-sequitors. Trying to make things flow. Trying to be funny without trying to be funny. Trying to remember how to write Spanish characters, using an open source word processor instead of Word. In the end, whether I get published or not, whether a self published title gets any sales, or whether it all ends in some archive somewhere, my goal is to write a book I can be proud of. Something I can read to my kids (theoretically, of course). I used to write in middle school fun little stories because my imagination refused to be held in check. I wrote in college to be known and seen. I have written segments and excerpts of unfinished books over the years to prepare myself for fame and fortune. And now, I realize that I need to write for the same reason I wrote in middle school. Not for money, glory, or fame. Most of the stuff I wrote in middle school still remains hidden in a purple spiral notebook. I need to write because my imagination needs an outlet. I need to write so I can create a world I can enter, I can manipulate, I can create. A world that, even if I am the only reader, allows me to escape, even if it is just for those few moments while I sit at a Starbucks with headphones on streaming albums on Spotify from groups no one has heard.
While I am still editing, and will be editing more for the next few months, here is a taste from the book (Prologue). I will need to edit the Prologue again as well, so feel free to make comments, ask questions, or email me at rdelatorrepegueros@gmail.com if you want to make a suggestion! also follow me @rudythewriter on twitter! So, "without further Apu," here is the prologue!
Prologue to The Random Adventures of Random Hill High School
“I seriously
cannot believe this is happening!”
David Ramirez was
distraught. His brown eyes stared at a calender hanging lopsided
from a radio station magnet on the fridge in the kitchen. Under the
“Law Office of Jose Hernandez” advertisement that was typical of
most of the calendars used by those in David's neighborhood, was one
of the worst words anyone can say to a sixteen year old at Random
Hill.
September.
“I don't know what
you are talking about. I am suuuuuuuper excited!”
David's little
sister, Esmerelda, or Esme as every one who knew her called her, was
jumping around the kitchen with an apple that looked like it had lost
a battle to a vampire. Her light brown eyes shimmered brightly with
excitement.
“That's because
you're barely starting high school,” David interjected, turning
around to face his sister.
“You just wait.
You will learn to dread the first week of September.”
With a swift motion,
he slid his slender body onto a chair and leaned forward with his
pointy elbows on the kitchen table, which had a brown wooden fruit
bowl missing a member of its team. Esme slid her tiny figure into a
chair across from David, her straight black hair landing over her
face in the same motion. She swiped her hair back and leaned forward
to hear how David was once again, trying to slow down her excitement.
David leaned forward, wiped away a tiny fly that was circling around
his short wavy hair, and began to tell Esme about the high school
experience.
“The awkward first
day of school where you are trying to tell how easy your teachers
will be; the weird moments where you run into someone you dated for
two weeks; the sitting for one hour in a desk with a back made out of
the hardest material they could find; the six times you have to
introduce yourself with meaningless get to know me activities;
Seriously, does every teacher have to know what my favorite movie is
on the first day of school?”
Esmerelda rolled her
eyes. She slid out of her chair, took one last bite of the apple and
was about to put the core back on the kitchen table and skip out of
the kitchen when their mom came in.
“Esme, what have I
told you about leaving your apples on the table!” she said with a
stern, yet loving voice.
Esmerelda paused in
moment of guilt, then grabbed the apple and skipped towards the trash
can in the kitchen, slam dunked the apple, and skipped away off to
the living room to read a book. David got back out of the chair and
went back to staring at the calendar, and suddenly was completely
lost in thought.
“Are you waiting
for the jugo de naranja to cool down? I just put it in the fridge
an hour ago, so you are going to have to wait somewhere else.”
“No mom. I'm
thinking about what I want to do on Monday.”
“Your first day of
school? Don't you do what you always do on the first day? Get a
ride from Johnny, get into some trouble, and then you boys come back
here to talk and eat all my food?”
“We don't eat all
your food, Mom. Your daughter the apple monster eats most of it.”
“Maybe,” Davids
mom smiled, the kind of caring smile only a Mom could give. “But
still, what are you looking so worried about?”
David took his eyes
off the calendar and looked thoughtfully at his mom.
“Its just...I'm a
Junior this year. I only have 2 more years to make it. I have 2
more years to leave my legacy. 2 more years to do something so great
that they will name one of the hallways after me.”
David's mom paused
for a second, then went up to David and gave him a big hug, the kind
that Hispanic Mom's are genetically engineered to give that
automatically lead to comfort.
“David, you are
too young to be worrying about all that. Just do well in school and
your job at Bun Hut Burgers, have fun with your friends, and don't
get into any trouble. That's all I ask.”
David smiled.
“That's all?”
David's mom casually
released the hug, went to a small closet in the kitchen, grabbed a
broom and handed it to David.
“NOW that's all.”
