The Ro Bro
-- EXCERPT: “Holy shit.” Britney, the assistant, looks up at me with an incredulous expression of ‘what the fuck.’ “She’s a… a…” I volunteer a noun. “A bitch?” “Yeah!” Britney laughs this word out with gusto. And I’m laughing too, but then I look over at Cordy, and she’s… not. “What did she mean by that?” That question is directed to Britney, not me. And immediately I feel cut out of the conversation. What did she mean by that? Translation--Did Raylen Star just caution me, Cordy, about handing over my ARC to SS’s brother, Steve, because she was insinuating they, she, he might steal my words? That is exactly what Leslie fuckin’ Munch just did. I had a good thing going with this girl. She and I were having a moment. And even though Britney kinda busted in on us, Britney wasn’t obtrusive. I was winning her over. Which is important. As the number one romance writer in the world, I wholly and completely understand that the new love interest must befriend the BFF. And fine. Maybe ‘new love interest’ is a premature title for me? We were still on introductions. We hadn’t made any concrete declarations of intent or anything, but we were on our way. We were getting there. Would’ve gotten there if fuckin’ Leslie hadn’t showed up. And now, as I watch Cordy and Britney exchange a look and in the next moment watch, in real time, as Cordy’s eyes drop down to the book gripped firmly in my hands, I have to tuck down a moment of rage. Two minutes. Two. Minutes. That’s all it took for Leslie to ruin the good thing I was building with this lovely creature who might be the only person in the room who can write a run-on sentence with such skill, and emotion, and… and… and moxie that one does not even understand that she, lovely Cordy, just wrote the world’s longest run-on sentence because they have been captivated—imprisoned, even—by her brilliant author voice. Cordy Serendipitous’s ability to string words together for the longest of sequences is what drew me to her in the first place. I love it. I love that she breaks all the rules. It’s so… so… fuckin’ courageous—especially in a world filled with people who want nothing more than the expected to jump out at them in a totally expected way, lest they have to stretch their minds a bit to find the hidden messages hiding just below the surface—that I, for once, did not feel like a completely isolated freak among those who fit in. At least as far as writing goes. And Leslie Munch has fucked that up with two words of caution. Be careful.
GIVEAWAY! Comments are closed.
|
Archives
May 2024
Categories
All
|