I blame Teen Wolf, personally.
Something about that cheesy show hooked me halfway through season 1, and I’ve been binge-watching on Amazon Prime ever since. Given that I don’t have that much time to write to begin with, my pace has slowed to a crawl over the last few weeks.
But in reality, it’s not really Teen Wolf’s fault. Teen Wolf is just an excuse for falling into that whiny, non-writing space that occasionally gets the better of me. I’ve been bouncing back the last few days, but progress on Anika’s story is still slow. Give me another week and I’m sure I’ll find my rhythm again.
Anyway, here’s a little excerpt from the first chapter:
Dutch waits til Mama looks away, mouths “pig” one last time as if I needed one final reminder of her opinion of me. I answer with a mighty eye roll like a good younger sister and turn back to my plate. Truthfully, I can’t stand to look at Dutch. At fourteen, two years older than me, she’s everything I’d like to be but am not.
She’s pretty, for starters, and she does it without even trying. Her hair isn’t as kinky and frizzy as mine, and it cascades over her shoulders in artful waves, perfectly framing her round, tawny face and high cheekbones.
In the DNA Power Ball Lottery, Dutch won long and lanky and elegant; I won Godzilla.
“PJ! Gerry!” Mama calls, my younger brothers’ names booming through the kitchen loud enough to make my ears ring. “Y’all get in here and eat!”
Y’all get in here and eat. They are the only words that bind my family together. In dal bhat and cornbread, we were the same; in all other ways, different.