Nathan Bransford has another contest running on his blog to celebrate the publication of The Secret Year by Jennifer Hubbard.
Entrants have to write a diary entry or a letter of 500 words in length or less, written in the voice of a teenager. And post it in the comments of the blog post about the contest.
I posted an extract from something I wrote once for a writing exercise. Luckily I already had something because typing is not my friend at the moment.
Just for fun, here it is:
Oh God. On the way to class today, Kayla said, like it was no big deal “By the way, I'm refusing to sit with you in English class ever again until you sit next to Jack at least once. You have to talk to him eventually. Sitting beside him in class is a safe way to start.”
“That's a brilliant plan,” I said, “but there's one thing you forgot.”
“I won't do it.”
“I thought you'd say that. Hence the blackmail.”
I was about to protest but she went “Quick, here he comes! He's gone in on his own. Go! And don't think too much!”
Jack was sitting hunched over his book, wearing a navy hoodie and jeans, and he had on that wooden bead necklace thing he wears sometimes. I could see it creeping out of his collar at the back of his neck.
I coughed to get his attention, which didn't work. This is because no one is ever surprised when someone coughs, so they never look around.
“Hi, Jack. Do you mind if I sit down? Am I disturbing you?” I said, nodding at the book.
“Edie, hi, sit down, no.”
Yes, that is actually word-for-word what he said.
“Did you have a good weekend?” he asked me. He definitely started the weekend conversation, which may or may not imply he gives a passing crap about what I did.
“Grand. Went into town, that's about it. How was yours?”
“Good. I was at a party on Saturday in a mate's gaff.”
At this point, my brain was doing this:
Oh my God he was at a party - I'll bet there were girls there. He probably got off with someone. I bet he's supposed to call her at lunchtime today. Maybe if I can get him to have lunch with me he won't get a chance to call her - or at least he'll fuck up the call because I'll be there and it'll put her off. I bet the bitch is blonde and thinner than me. I've never even been to a party because I didn't have any friends where I used to live and my mates here are so not the partying kind. And it's not that I don't like my new friends but I feel crap about them all of a sudden, I wish they were different. How am I going to meet the kind of people who have house parties so I can go to their parties and then mention them casually to Jack?
But I held it together on the outside and talked to him about what he was reading – it was The Great Gatsby so I could bluff about it.
I feel bad that when Jack mentioned that he'd been to a party, I had such disloyal thoughts about my new friends, especially since Kayla was the only reason Jack and I were even speaking. It's not like I was serious, though. Well, not for very long.