I’ve decided to start sharing pieces of my book here. I think it’ll encourage me to keep going to know that I can share my progress somewhere. Feedback welcome. I also decided on a tentative title:
“Happy Birthday, Grayson!” Lila chirps as I sit down in the empty chair next to her.
“Happy Birthday, sweetie,” Lila’s mom echoes as her dad bellows, “Today’s the big day, eh Grayson? Are you nervous?”
“No, not really,” I lie. “Whatever my Career is, I’m going to be great at it!” I feign confidence by repeating my mom’s words with gusto.
“Of course you are!” Lila’s dad assures me with a smile and a wink.
“It’s true, G,” Lila adds quietly as she pats my arm.
“Well what’s for breakfast, folks?” I ask the table, changing the subject.
After a few minutes of chit-chat, I leave the Woods to their breakfast, pick up my tray, and join my family at our usual table. Sadly, the ol’ changing the subject trick does not work here.
“Top three guesses,” my dad demands.
“Dad, I don’t want to guess!” I tell him for the hundredth time. “If I guess wrong I’ll only be disappointed.”
“Suit yourself, but it doesn’t hurt to dream,” he responds with a wink, as he’s done one hundred times before.
I roll my eyes and my mom, sensing I’d rather not talk about it, turns the attention toward Samson. “How about you, Samson?” she asks brightly. “What Career do you think you might like to receive when you’re Grayson’s age?”
Samson mumbles his usual response, “Don’t know, don’t care.”
My mom offers her usual response – ignoring Samson’s bad attitude and ruffling his hair – and tells him, “Oh, Samson, you’re so smart and caring you’re bound to be Nourishment Service.”
Samson grimaces and says, “Gross, mom! I don’t want to be in charge of stupid plants and the boring food we eat.” Personally I don’t see where she gets “smart” or “caring,” but I agree with Samson. Nourishment Services would be a pretty boring Career. Not wanting to publicly side with my snotty little brother, I silently hope my Career involves responsibilities more exciting than watching plants grow.
(You should probably know that in the five minutes after I hit “Publish,” I edited this small passage about eight times. Apparently I am as particular about my fiction as I am careless about my usual stuff.)