2. Contests: Two very huge and spectacular contests are taking place. (Wait. Now that I did this by numbers, my outline needs to move to letters. Hmmm. Should rethink this. But no.)
A. Elana Johnson is having a Pay It Forward Query Critique Contest. If you are writing your query, or you are like me and you have re-written it from scratch 19 times, then this is for you! Go check it out!!
B. Maggie Stiefvater's Linger Giveaway Contest - CANNOT wait for this book to come out!! Could possibly die before I get to read it. (Well, maybe not, but...)
3. I'm on Twitter. I don't know what that means. So much so that when I first started to post this the original sentence said and I quote, "I'm on Tweeter."
I do know that my little doohickey is #tiffanyaneal
And bear with me peeps. I am not technology stupid, but my blog is only a few weeks old, and moving to Twitter is a monumental leap.
*I interrupt this very important blog message with an update. ChristaCarol Jones is the one who MADE me join this, err, I mean suggested it would be a great networking tool. And as she just pointed out to me, it is not a number sign it is the at sign. See how much I know?? @tiffanyaneal (GEEZ)*
4. I've written the first chapter of my new MS...it is a middle grade written in 3rd person POV and my MC is a thirteen year old boy. *Channeling my inner 13 year old boy* Um. Wait. That's not possible. So, if any of you have inner 13 year old boys in you please send those vibes my way. Thanks in advance.
So, yeah, that's about all I got. I shall leave you with a teaser from the masterpiece better known as The Post-It Bandits (read here if you want to know how I got the story idea), the (semi) finished Chapter 1: Stupid Killer Broccoli. This is VERY new, so I am open to any suggestions, revisions, edits, and what-have-yous...just leave me a comment. Enjoy! :)
Cam exhaled deeply and pushed around the mystery meat plopped haphazardly on the plastic tray. He wasn’t hungry, but even if he was, he wouldn’t dare stick a piece of that ham…turkey…beef…whatever it was, into his mouth. He’d probably die a slow and painful death if he did.
Jabbing his fork into the soggy broccoli, he brought it up for closer inspection and let the quasi-vegetable hang down lifelessly. Before it could plunge down and hit the deadly meat, he threw it into his mouth. At that same moment, he was elbowed, causing the broccoli to tumble down his throat way faster than he had wanted it to. He started choking uncontrollably. Everyone in the cafeteria stopped, turned, and stared. This was definitely not the kind of attention he wanted.
“Dude. Sorry. That was totally an accident,” Bryan said as he threw his leg over the bench and sat down next to him. Jordan, who had just sat down across from Cam, tilted her head to the side and scrunched up her forehead.
“You gonna live?” she joked.
In between coughs and gasps for air, Cam was able to let a, “No big deal,” escape his mouth. Another fit of coughing went by before he said, “It just went down wrong.”
But the dang thing was lodged in the back of his throat and he seriously thought he was going to die. And there he’d been concerned about eating the meat. Stupid killer broccoli. Bryan slapped Cam hard on the back, dislodging the miniature tree from the back of his throat as he coughed as hard as he could.
The mighty green vegetable came sailing out of his mouth, flying at a ridiculous speed and splatted against Bree Meyers, the most popular girl in the 8th grade class. Crap.
Cam’s eyes nearly popped out of their sockets, and the sweat that had beaded up on his forehead from the near death experience slowly trickled down his face.
“Oh. Em. Gee!” Bree squealed as she peeled the half chewed, slobber-covered vegetable off of her cheek. “Who threw this at me?”
The whole entire cafeteria sat in the dead most silence it had ever been in the entire three years he had attended Jackson Middle School. Mouths were dropped open. Food remained half chewed. Eyes couldn’t decide whether to look at Bree or to look at Cam.
Cam’s mouth hung open in a stupor. Not good. Not good at all. His mind spun with a million words he could say to diffuse the situation, but the best he could come up with was, “Sorry.”
“Cal. Cam. Whatever your name is. I don’t care. You have just ruined my life! You are going to pay for this. Do you understand me?” she screamed.
At this point, Bree was standing shaking her fist at him acting like he had just thrown a chocolate pie in her face instead of an innocent, small piece of broccoli. Disgusting? Yes. Screaming that he’d ruined her life? Hardly. More like she’d just ruined his. And did anyone seem to care that he could have died on that piece of broccoli? Not at all.
She stormed out of the cafeteria, still silent in the wake of the monumental disaster that had just taken place. Slowly, people began to let their held breaths out and chatter started filling the open space again.
“Don’t dude me, Bryan,” Cam muttered.
“I mean, if you want to get technical, it’s really your fault. You were the one who not only bought that strange deformity of a vegetable, but then you actually put it in your mouth.” Bryan said.
Cam shot him an I’m-gonna-kill-you-if-you-say-one-more-word look to Bryan. In return, Bryan threw up his arms in defense.
“Alright. Fine. It was partially my fault. But who cares, anyway? We’re talking Bree Meyers. She doesn’t even know your name. Did you hear she called you Cal?”
Another death glare was shot at Bryan. Cam glanced over at Jordan, who raised her eyebrows and half-smiled at him.
“You have to admit it was kind of funny. The look on her face was priceless,” Jordan laughed.
Cam was beginning to wonder why he considered these two sorry excuses for human beings in front of him his friends. He knew he was just irritated at the whole situation, but these supposed friends had been around his entire life. They should know him better and know that this was not the right time to try to make him laugh. He needed some time to let the sting wear off before he could joke about it.
“Just relax, Cam. It’ll all blow over by the end of the day. Bree’s precious face isn’t mangled and her glamour posse probably already has her looking as fake as ever again.”
Cam pushed his tray away from him, less hungry than he was before. It wasn’t the fact that Bree said she was going to get him for what he did that was bothering him the most. What bothered him the most was the fact that his chances of making it into the popular crowd before the end of his 8th grade year had just moved from slim to non-existent. It didn’t seem likely, no matter how many times Jordan and Bryan said it, that this would be easily forgotten. By anybody. Especially them.