Life of a writer

I have neglected my blog and feel horrible about it. My time has been consumed with writing and getting my novel finished. I’m also happy that I put a new character in my novel. Her name is Jacqueline which was my mother’s name. Poor Jacqueline who is only 14 finds haunting stories from the attic about her grandma and mother. Now my novel is in the editing stage. I have started on a prequel.

Elizabeth wonders...why her.

As I looked at Mom, I hoped she could see I ached inside. “He loved me and cared.”
I left my plate of food on the table and ran to my bedroom. Mom screamed at me as I ran.
“Elizabeth, please come back in here. We need to finish talking.”
I couldn’t go back in the kitchen, I collapsed on my bed, which was the start of a down hill spiral of unbelief that Paul would say those sentences to my mother. Miserable would be one of only many words that described the way I felt. Paul didn’t want to see me or tell me he had been at my home. To hear those words he said to my mother made me wonder if he loved me, cared about me or just used me. I couldn’t understand why Paul didn’t tell me on the phone the night I talked to him. He was able to escape the looks of those who knew what we did together was wrong, morally. I had learned to deal with stares because of my vision problem, but this was unbearable, because, I knew it was a mistake that could have been avoided.
My bedroom walls served as a barrier against those I felt had control of my life. Often that first week I stayed in my room. I heard the door bell ring several times, but today when the door bell rang it gave me hope, because of the familiar voices I heard through my bedroom wall. Mom knocked faintly on my bedroom door and then spoke loud enough so I could hear her. “Elizabeth I would like you to come out and see our visitors.”

Do Teenagers often feel like their parents are against them?

Elizabeth felt lied to when her mother told her she was going to the doctors, but instead took her to a mental hospital. Here part of a scene of what happened to Elizabeth.

I started to speak with more determination. “Mom, you can’t leave me here?”
I noticed my father as he walked away with his hand planted firmly on his head. He wanted to hug me I knew it, but he seemed upset with my mother and walked out the double doors that we entered through.
Mom looked up at me one last time. “I need to leave now, Elizabeth, and you will be fine here. Later, Dad and I will bring down some clothes for you.”
The nurse stopped my mother as she started to push herself with the use of her feet to roll her wheel chair forward.
“Oh, Mrs. Bell, Elizabeth won’t be able to have any items until after the twenty- four hour suicide watch. We will call you and let you know when those twenty- four hours are up.”
I cupped my hands together around my mouth and yelled, I didn’t care who heard me. “Mom, please, I beg you, don’t leave me here. I want to go home with you and Dad.”

I Love Living Life. I Am Happy.

Most teenagers feel to weak to cope with life. How powerful his words are. So many youth wonder if they can ever endure the trials they have. He is one amazing speaker.

Why do teenagers lie?

I took a deep breath and let it out. “Mom I could have been pregnant, but I’m not.”
Mom backed away from table and screamed so loud I thought the roof was going cave in on us. “What do you mean you could have been pregnant?”
My brother came yelling as he entered into the kitchen from his bedroom him and his wife were renting from my parents. He yelled so loud the neighbors had to think someone was being killed. “Is every thing okay?” I began to cry with tears that made me feel like I was becoming a puddle of water. My mother looked at my brother and said, “Elizabeth could have been pregnant.” I told everyone the story of going for the pregnancy test. My mom yelled out over and over. “What… what. That boy Paul has a lot to answer to me.” I sat with a relief of knowing I got one lie out of the way. Even though I knew it made look weak to have done what I did with Paul.

PLEASE ENJOY READING A PIECE OF A SCENE...I'M WORKING ON.
I had never visited him in San Lois Obispo, California. I was afraid to ask if I could come visit him. I thought maybe if I was attractive like my cousins, Katrina, Greta and Johanna I would have had the opportunity like they had. I dreamed of the adventures I would have of being at his home. I had often pictured myself on his front porch, with binoculars while I looked out over the ocean and could hear the sounds of the spectacular waves as they hit the shore. My Grandfather’s stories of how phenomenal the sunset looked over the ocean made me speculate if I would ever see it. His camera was always strapped around his neck, as if it was a part of his body. I saw him take several pictures and I knew I would never see them once developed. I felt a barrier between my Grandpa and me. I couldn’t seem to figure out what caused it. Maybe it was the words that my Grandmother had spoken of. Then I knew it couldn’t have been, because he won’t speak to my Grandmother. Maybe he thought we were trash compared to my aunt’s family. But, when I thought of Paul and how much he loved me, I began to feel valuable.

Teenagers today seemed to believe that parents can’t know the answer to anything. I ponder this as I write about Elizabeth who is a teenager who did turn to her parents for answers to questions she had no answer for. One thing Elizabeth did struggle with was expressing the pain she had with holding back her physical desires to be with her boyfriend. Secrets between her and her boyfriend served as a bond that brought more of a barrier between her parents and her. I wonder how many girls and boys keep those secrets from there parents?

Why questions...

How do teenagers value themselves? Who do they turn to for support and love? How many young girls think that a boyfriend is the answer to their problems? Does the color of a teenager’s hair, eyes or body shape influence their popularity at school?

Only one of the millions of reasons I'm writing my novel.

I have felt a strong desire to finish this revising of my book. My goal is to touch someone’s life. It is hard to write with therapies, dinner, laundry and busing everyone places. Somehow, I know with prayer and faith I will find time to write and finish this book it’s been waiting to be published for nine years now.
I have been wondering why young teenagers feel a need to have a girlfriend or boyfriend. I guess it’s to hold on to something that is missing.
This is one reason I'm writing my novel. Teenagers need to taste all types of gum before making a choice of which one is their favorite. I wish, oh how I wish, I didn’t have a study boyfriend in high school. It was a pivotal moment that has caused a lasting affect on my life! After 28 years it still haunts me.

Been sick... but thinking about book.

On New Years Eve my daughter was sharing the story of my book with a friend as we sat around the Kitchen table. I was thrilled to see her expressions with each scene she shared. I have not written in my book since before Christmas, but ideas and stories I need to write about keep coming to mind.
I'm sick and feel horrible. Sad part is I can't take anything for the cold with having Glaucoma.