Who, Me? An Unofficial Official #PitchWars Mentee Bio

I should not be doing this. I should be frantically cleaning my apartment because my landlord is showing it to someone this afternoon while I'm at work since I'm moving this month. I feel like Loki's I DO WHAT I WANT gif his highly appropriate here, and, you know, maybe one of these days I'll teach myself how to put gifs in my blog text. Pictures I can do.

PitchWars is back! Yay! If you're not sure what PitchWars is, go here and see the lovely Brenda Drake (she has the details).

So who I am, besides a clearly Wandering Sagittarius? Weeell....I'm a performance grade asphalt binder technician for a construction company in Central New York. I work with the stuff that make roads and can use my BA in chemistry on a daily basis. Pretty much. So, my life is kind of like this.

Maybe not that extreme. More like this, really.

My coffee has clearly worn off. But this happens when you work 40-60 hours a week.

Righteo. Some cool things about me.

1) I'm Part Cow
Yes, you read that right. I'm part cow. I found out in March 2013 that I was born with an ASD - atrium septal defect - in which the hole between the top two chambers of your heart don't close when you're born. My cardiologist wasn't comfortable with the size of the hole (huge, apparently, and we later learned that huge meant size of a half dollar) and sent me to another cardiologist who was going to put an artificial patch in. Well, when he looked at the size of the hole, not only was it huge, there also wasn't enough on the one side of the heart wall for it to anchor to.

About a year ago (August 29, 2013) I underwent open heart surgery at the age of 23. They put a patch made of cow (they usually use pig, but I have cow) over the hole, wired my sternum back together, and my cousins dubbed me "The Iron Cowheart Lady" when they gave me an Iron Man arc reactor t-shirt while I was recovering in the cardiac step-down unit.

2) I've Always Been a Writer
When I was six I thought writing a book was taking a published book and transcribing it into a notebook. Now that I'm significantly older, I know that's called plagiarism, and I've since then started really working with my overactive imagination and ideas. As a result I've finished five novels - two of which belong in a series - and three of which I'm seriously querying to find an agent/get published. This includes my PitchWars entry, FROST, which is a retold fusion of Jack Frost and The Pied Piper set in a small town in the New York Adirondack Mountains. What's pretty cool is that FROST didn't start off as a novel, it started as a dramatic text I wrote for a class I took in 2010 while studying abroad in Wales. 

Though I still haven't managed to finish that ten composition book monstrosity I started my first year of high school, I did decide to start to rewrite it. There's something really fulfilling about reconnecting with the first set of characters you ever worked with.

3) A Dead Poet's Practical Magic
I'm a movie junkie. I have an ever-expanding crate of them, a years-old Netflix subscription, and can basically quote you certain films line by line. My favorites are by far Dead Poets Society and Practical Magic. My current favorite TV love is the BBC's The Musketeers, though I am a lover of all things geek, including various series of Star Trek and shows like Stargate: SG-1, The Big Bang Theory, Stargate: Atlantis. Superhero movies? Love those, too. My BFF came to visit a couple weeks ago and brought me mini action figures of Data and Riker. I squealed loud enough to wake the entire neighborhood at 1 am.

A Few More Random Fun Facts
- I can't have pets in my apartment, so I consider Henry the Houseplant my pet.
- My writing tends to have either alternating POV's or multiple POV's.
- I am not the world's biggest fan of first person POV, though there are some exceptions - like Kenneth Oppel's Matt Cruise series (which is phenomenal).
- I put together 750-piece puzzles in my spare time.

That's pretty much me in a nutshell. I'm also a hot mess of crazy most days, but nobody needs to know that. Thanks very much for stopping by, and good luck to all my fellow mentees, who's fantastic bios can be found right here. Go check them out!

The Haul and Wait

Monday, December 2, 2013 was the submission day for the fabulous Brenda Drake's PitchWars. (To find out more information on what PitchWars is, feel free to click the link - it'll take you to her blog and she can explain things a hell of a lot better than I can at the moment.)

Bottom line, if you have a finished manuscript that you're ready to query with, you apply for a mentor. They'll read your query and your sample pages - sometimes even ask for more - and then they'll give you feedback on why they did or didn't accept it on December 11. I know that's only five days away, but it's going to feel more like a month away, really.

I'm not very good at waiting.

The last time I entered a contest like this was during my semester from hell (I think) and I entered Sage, and I totally botched my applications, in all honesty. It was awful. Last year I chose not to enter, because I didn't have anything that I really, really thought would be worth it.

This time I offered up Matt & Topher like proverbial lambs. I've had some success with them in pitch contests on twitter, and I've gotten plenty of rejections with them doing e-queries, so I'm really curious to see how they'll do. It will also be an opportunity to find out what I need to work on - because there's always something that can be improved - and that advice will prove valuable even if, ultimately, the boys and I go nowhere but back to the drawing board.

In the mean time, so I don't freak myself out totally while waiting and obsessively checking the Pitch Wars hashtag, I work at the hotel (for a rather funny picture from Wednesday, check out my Instagram feed for the chalk outline from the kitchen) and I work on getting a little further in Frost, my re-working of Jack Frost that I started three years ago. In other words, I keep busy so I won't go nuts. So far it's working. Hopefully the next five days will go much the same.

Happy Friday and have a good weekend.

Throwback Thursday

(Try to ignore the fact that I haven't posted in a week...)

Spring semester 2010. This is my friend J who lived across the hall and around the corner my sophomore year. Yes, the wall is most likely holding me upright. I'm not the most graceful person on the planet on solid ground, and even less so on skates. But it was fun, and that's all that counts.

I still ice skate at least once a winter.

Throwback Thursday

November/December 2010. It's the view from my room - ABN 3, 4F - at the University of Wales Trinity St. David Carmarthen campus. The empty space is from a car that had only recently left. Those who live in the UK aren't accustomed to driving in snow, whereas the New Yorker who was being a creeper and watching the mayhem as someone tried to leave their parking space and up the hill is used to it. (I told him to put his foot on the gas and not let up until he was on the flat past the hedge. He finally made it.)

This is also from the same time frame and was one of the cork boards on the wall of my room. I like to send and receive funny cards - getting mail is fun - and I pin them up after I get them so I can always have a quick chuckle if I need it. It became a tradition while I was at college that sort of died when everything went to hell my senior fall. 

There's so much about this picture. It's when I discovered the timer on my camera. The stack of books by the curtain were supplemental materials for my two papers due for Living in an Old Country: The History and Heritage of Wales. Newcastle Brown Ale (my absolute favorite beer and my preference) comes in cans (it's also a domestic instead of an import). My traveling orange winter hat is there, too. That hat has been everywhere since I first bought it in Belgium in 2008 while overseas to play soccer for a week. 

This was also the place where the idea for Jack and Mari was born, where I worked on Sage and made sporadic updates for Murphy and Me. 

I miss it and I can't wait to go back January of 2015 for graduate school. It won't be Wales, but ARU is only an hour from London, and Carmarthen is only another four hours by train.

To Those Who Wait

There is the idea that good news comes to those who wait. In a fit of brilliance last Thursday I totally forgot to check my email all day and the result was that, at roughly 9 pm that night, I had 18 new messages in my inbox.

One of them was a conditional acceptance letter to the University of Central Lancashire.

I only applied to three programs, and the one I've been conditionally accepted into is my second choice. Still, I ran through the house (as best one can with a still-healing sternum) and very excitedly told my parents because, well, I've been accepted to grad school!

It was unexpected. It's not that I have that low of an opinion of myself, it's just that my four years of undergrad were rough in places, and my GPA reflects that. I missed finishing with a 3.0 by .13, which, at the time didn't seem like a lot, but when you put it on an application along with your transcripts starts to feel like a chasm.

The other good news is that one of the other universities I applied to - University of Strathclyde, in Glasgow - wants an academic reference. I'm choosing to take this as a very good thing.

In the meantime, I will wait to hear from the other two, as well as the agent currently reading the rest of Two for the Rent. Good vibes and crossed fingers are much appreciated.

The Process

So last blog post, way back when (yeah, I'm good like that, eventually I'll know what the hell I'm doing) I hinted about something that I'd share...soon.

Classify this as soon.

There really hasn't been much available on the job front for me. Which is weird, because I have a bachelors degree in chemistry with a minor in theater. I'm still waiting to hear anything useful from Chicago - or anything at all, I'm not picky - and the other jobs that I've applied for through government agencies have been fails, too.

That being said, I applied for grad schools.

Three, so far, and all of them in the UK. I try not to think too hard about what it means for the future of American education when I can get a masters degree for between $16,000 and $25,000 in a year to fifteen months abroad where doing it in my own country would cost at least double that.

Now it's just a waiting game, and most of you know how much I love waiting. Which isn't a whole hell of a lot. So keep your fingers crossed for me, if you remember. And this will probably make me feel like I've gotten into college all over again. Because, well, technically (hopefully!) I will be in college all over again.

And sometimes second chances are the best thing for a person.

Blind Leaping Faith

Trying to get a novel published is like taking one flying leap off the edge of a precipice without knowing where in the hell the bottom of the canyon is and whether someone will catch you or you'll crash and burn. You can see the end in sight - that nice display in B&N - but that's on the other side of the long dark tunnel, and there are many times when the light you see is actually an on-coming train in the form of a rejection.

Despite all of this happy happy stuff, which always feels more depressing for some reason, one just has to solider through and keep hoping for the best. There's contests along the way - enter your first 250 words, your first paragraph, your 35 word pitch (which is hard, by the way, to condense 95k worth of writing into one single sentence), and peruse twitter to see what's coming down the pipes next. Sometimes you get lucky. Sometimes you don't.

The point is that while it's not easy, nobody ever gets anywhere by giving up. So don't.

Don't give up.

Have faith that your writing is something someone, somewhere, is going to want to read, and subsequently love. Because, sometimes, at the end of the day, that's all you've got. Along with good friends to help you, too, and give you the boost you need.

Don't ask me where this post came from today, of all days, because I'm impressed I could finally make what's going through my head into something coherent that wasn't a new fiction chapter. Which reminds me that I need to get on that. Writing a series is kind of fun.

Happy Monday.

Hey Speed Racer

I have some exciting news. No, I didn't get a job or an internship that I've applied for (yet, though here's hoping) and I haven't managed to land an agent for Sage yet (though, here's hoping again), but I did manage to finish another novel.

Two for the Rent is a complete first draft at 94,876 words. I don't know which I'm prouder of, that I finished another novel or that I kept the sucker under 95K. It's a little bit of both now, and I'm still smiling, even though I finished it Saturday night. So, while I leave that to sort of cool off for a little while - until I can print it all out and get to it with red pen - I'm embarking on something I've toyed with but never really started.

A sequel.

Yes, there was always the intention to do a sequel to TftR, and, well, because I blame my fellow Sommies and the fact that Word Wars (pick a time, write for 10 minutes, and then share) are addicting, I started the sequel - Three for the City - on Sunday. And yes, because it seems to make life slightly easier, I have planned out some events for it, and it sits at nearly 7,000 words so far.

In other writing-related news, I sent out a query and first 10 pages to an open submission for New Adult. We'll see what happens there. Fingers crossed it's something good.

And I don't know whether to be perturbed or extra-proud of the fact that TftR was written in less than three months.

Yeah. I'll let you decide on that one. My sister has informed me, like normal, "It is what it is." And so it is.

What's even scarier is that it's been suggested that I start planning for, well...life. The different paths and different options I could explore, how I want to get there, and the steps in between. Which is scary as hell for someone who finds planning a bit of a struggle sometimes.

Happy Wednesday. Oh, and if you're interested, here's Two for the Rent and Three for the City.

Fascinating

I like to learn new things, and am, at times, utterly fascinated by this world. I like to know how to put thing together, how to take them apart, and how they work. The thing that both fascinates and terrifies me is my own human body.

Today I went in for an echocardiogram, which is, pretty much, an ultrasound of your heart. I got to see my own heart beating, watch it do its thing. Watch the valves open, watch how it worked. The scientist in me - which is a very large part of me, along with that damn innate curiosity that would put a cat to shame - absolutely loved it. The other part of me was leery of it, and found it kinda freaky.

I'm pretty sure I smothered that part of me out of existence for a little while. The woman doing my echo was really awesome, too, explaining to me what I was looking at. It was really, really nice of her. Might have helped that she knew I was a science geek, but I'm thinking she was the type of person to answer questions any of her patients asked about it.

But seriously. I saw my own heart beating today. It was one of the coolest - and freakiest - experiences of my life having to deal with my own body.

The other side of this was that I was also given a 30-day event monitor. My father has already joked that I'm "wired for sound" now. It has significantly less leads than my halter monitor from about a year ago, but I've already tried to accidentally rip one of my leads off. It'll take some getting used to, that much I know. We'll call it my new fashion accessory and leave it at that.

Cabin Fever

I think I'm getting Cabin Fever. And no, I'm not talking about the wine - though it's local, and delicious - but the fact that I've been mostly cooped up in the house since I moved back home after finally completing college. I had some sub jobs for a while, but it's going on two weeks since I last had one of those.

A few of my friends have suggested volunteering. I'm currently one of the on-call volunteers for my local library, and I have about one set day a month that I go in and volunteer for about two hours. It's really fun - I've already had my training night - and the library is one of those places that I love to hang out at between summer work shifts. Makes sense, considering how much I love to read and write.

Having all this time on my hands has been good for my writing, though. I've gotten at least 20,000 words written since I've come home, so my latest novel has really taken off much quicker than anything else I've written lately. I'm still sending out query letters for Sage, but nothing to the We love this and want to represent you NOW effect has come back my way. Here's hopin'.

I'm not sure if I told you all, but I applied for an internship for this summer. I'm really hoping I get it, and if I do get it, that means I'll be moving to New York City. Another way that I've been using this plethora of free time has been to look at rentals and apartments in the City. I think my best bet might be for something on Staten Island, and just looking at places to live has gotten me excited. But I can't move forward with that until I know about the internship, and I'm not going to hear about that until....I don't really know when, actually. It's one of those rolling with the punches, things.

Excess time on my hands means I have the urge to wander, too, though I'm not sure where I'd end up. Then again, I'm rather okay with that idea.

And, because I can't say the phrase Cabin Fever without thinking of The Muppet's Treasure Island and starting to sing that song, I'll leave you with this.

Back Again

I'm approximately four days late on this one, but didn't we already discuss the idea of better late than never?

Anyway. After a brief hiatus, The Sleepless Writers are back with a new look, new format, and new ideas. They have a collection of different writing styles and voices from across the US, Canada, and the UK. There's a little bit of something for everybody, whether you're a hardcore novelist or someone just looking to make your every day writing better. Come check us out and see what we have to offer.

You can follow on Twitter, tumblr, YouTube, and Facebook, too.

Better Late than Never

Seriously.

I know. It's been an interesting....well, closer to two months, probably.

Christmas was lovely. The whole holiday season was lovely, in general, except for when I nearly gave myself a panic attack really thinking the world was going to end according to the Mayans. As I'm still sitting here, breathing, and the sun keeps rising at the start of every day, clearly something was off in someone's calculations.

That and I kept trying to think about how they hadn't accounted for daylight savings and leap years and....yeah.

Anyway.

January saw me and my sister wandering through the streets of New York City. Festivities included the 12th Annual No Pants Subway Ride - we did not participate, in fact, we were damn confused when the people next to us on the platform started taking their pants off - a viewing of Avenue Q off Broadway, me wandering around for a media and entertainment day, and many visits to Starbucks and Times Square.

It was also where I got the idea for the next moment of brilliance. I applied to an internship with the Travel Team at The Huffington Post. They were one of the places we went to on media day, and it seemed to be a really good fit. So here's hoping.

I've also added another rejection to the pile for Sage.

That's where I'm at. Here's to a new year, and me crawling out of my blogging hibernation.

The End of the Road

I took my last college final last night beginning at seven. It wasn't an utter train wreck, but it was damn close, but it was okay. My headphones were in, at one point I was swearing profusely in my own head, and all I could think about afterward, walking through the parking lot to find my car and looking up at the clear sky was how good it felt to be done. How good it felt to accomplish this monumental thing. To come back from the semester from hell, take two repeater courses, and come out on the other end with something....worth it.

Today I packed up my little apartment that I have become quite fond of and headed for home after having met the requirements for a BA in chemistry with a minor in theater.

It has been a long, long road. One that has led me through numerous trials here on this side of the Atlantic, and four fantastic months in a foreign country. It led me through the semester from hell a year ago. It led me through more than just academic hell, too, but seriously, what doesn't kill you in some sense really does make you stronger. Which is damn difficult to realize when you're in the middle of it. Horrendously difficult.

But here, at the end...it really has been worth it.

Up, Up, and Away!

I cycled through a lot of titles since yesterday afternoon. Mostly to do with moving. Along with the occasional up or on tacked onto the end for good measure. It all conveyed the same kind of meaning and the feeling that one stage of life was over.

It kind of is.

Tomorrow is the last day of classes for my undergraduate career. The past year has been a long, long road, and when I account for the three full years before that, it's almost mind-boggling. And while the happy little voice in the back of my head is comparing what's going to happen after next Friday - when I move out of my little apartment - to taking a long walk off a short step in the dark, the larger part of my brain has already strapped on its helmet with a maniacal grin and a cheeky, bring it. Which leads me to my next, and probably most important conclusion.

I'm ready to move on. It's time. I'm ready for something different and new, and bonus points if it's exciting. I'm ready to tie up this chapter of my life and move on to the next part.

Which is why I can sit here, in a Starbucks about half an hour from campus for some downtime and a change of scenery while I work on labs and whatnot, and think back on what my nine semesters has been like. Those moments of sheer terror, in parts, from pre-season as a first year to all the medical mysteries my body decided to throw my way along with trying to survive four classes and two labs that first semester. Giving up a part of me I never thought I'd be able to part with the following summer, and then realizing it was okay to move on and try different things. Not playing soccer opened up a wide range of possibilities, and ultimately shoved me in the direction of going abroad to Wales. Which, a year later, I did. And I absolutely loved it. To the point where I'm contemplating going back for grad school, which, technically, would be pastry school.

Spring semester 2011 seemed to rock from end of the spectrum to the other. Oral surgery is never fun, and neither is losing a teammate that you've classified somewhere between friend and family. Nor was the tumultuous summer that followed. But I'm a firmer of what's meant to be is meant to be, and everything, eventually, works out. And it did. It just involved a basement-level GPA for fall, contingency plans for the spring, and realizing that a ninths semester was necessary.

Of course, having only one cup of coffee a day kind of sucks sometimes, but it works to keep everything in line and functioning properly, so I really can't argue with that.

And now here I am, in the fall of 2012 and looking back. I think I'm subconsciously trying to squeeze all the stuff I haven't managed to do - like get cited and robbed by campo while I wasn't there for fire violations, and parking tickets from the G-town police - in the last few weeks of my time here. And never fear, I've already paid my parking tickets.

Regardless of all of that, come this time next week while I prepare for my biochemistry final and hope to pull a rabbit from an unnamed body orifice - holy mixed metaphors, Batman, chalk it up to too much coffee and not enough sleep - I will be ready to move on. I'm not entirely sure what comes next, but I know that I'm ready for it. Whatever it is.

My lovely friends woke me up at two in the morning with confetti, silly string, and cupcakes on my 19th birthday. They were, and still are, amazing.

The summer after our first year, my best friend Em invited me to come stay with her for a week on Martha's Vineyard. It was the first time I had been swimming in the Atlantic Ocean, and her dad snapped this photo of us. Four plus years later, we still haven't let go of each other. I don't think we ever will.

Sophomore year. Sushi night. Moose imitations.

Fall of 2012, the semester in Wales. Behind me is Cadir Idris and the glacier-made lake. I proceeded to climb to the summit of Cadir Idris. My legs hated me for that when I finally got off the mountain totally about five hours later.

 

The first time I went on an Alternative Spring Break to Virginia. Loved it so much I went back the following year, and am planning to go again in some capacity. Perhaps they'll let me lead...?

Spring 2012, first time performing in the Vagina Monologues. A powerful night, and a lot of fun. And yes, you totally get over the fact you say "vagina" in front of a crowd of people about the fifth time you say it.

I'm not entirely sure where I'm going, and I'm more than okay with it. Wherever it winds up being, it's bound to be a fantastic journey.

Another Year

I didn't have a whole lot of time yesterday to do a whole lot contemplating on the fact I was turning twenty-three. Now that I can sit and really think, there's been a lot that's happened in a year. Having a dismal Fall semester a year ago, to digging myself out of a hole in the Spring, to having rather scary reactions to anxiety and too much stress - and too much caffeine - and then a summer of work, including into the fall. In between all that was finishing not one but two novels, and taking one further into a second draft, now working on a third. And now here, with two weeks of classes left in the semester and the thought that December will bring moving out of the little apartment and back home to wait four months to walk across the stage and get my degree....

It's been a hell of a year.

Hopefully, minus the medical aspects - meaning we'll be in good health - it'll be another hell of a year. 

Miss Demeanors

This week was hellaciously long, but so totally worth it. The four performances - including the open dress rehearsal - were amazing. Everything turned out so well and it was an incredibly strong show.

On the last day of tech rehearsal, the night before the open dress, I had a friend and fellow dancer use my phone to take a video of our performance. And that's what I want to share with you all.

Can you find me? Hint: I'm mostly stage right, for those of you who know what that means.

And yes, my mother and my friends were suitably impressed at how well I can shake my rear end when called upon.

Miss Demeanors: Koshare 2012

Three months worth of work. Three performances. An event for the ages.

Jack of All Trades

College student. Writer. Potential professional baker. Science geek. Theater kid. Aunt. Daughter. Wandering Sagittarius. Dancer.

Dancer?

Back at the beginning of September, one of my FB statuses was that I was doing something so far out of my comfort zone it was practically on another planet, because a zip code didn't seem to cover an out step of this magnitude. My mother was appropriately skeptical when I told her, as was my sister, and I'm pretty sure some of my friends outright laughed when I said, rather brightly, I'm trying out for Koshare.

It was something I'd always wanted to since I saw my first show back in Fall 2008, but...didn't. Didn't in Fall 2009, was living in Wales in Fall 2010, and was absolutely batshit crazy a year ago in Fall 2011. Now it's Fall 2012, and guess who's name is in the program under the dance Miss Demeanors? Mine.

I've got no problems stepping out on stage and facing a packed audience and playing a different character with different words, mannerisms, and - the last time I was on stage - downright scary facial expressions. This is different. This is me, Molly Louise, only with a little bit of hip hop in my body, some heat in my cheeks, and the on-going thought process of don't let me screw this up. I got this.

I guess I hadn't really thought about the magnitude of what I was doing, and how far from the normal me it was until I read part of what my sister had put on FB when a mutual friend of ours had mentioned harassing me - in good fun, more or less - at the performance she's attending this weekend. My sister is always going to have my back, but there...I'll admit, I was rather speechless when I read this.

Just the fact that she is participating in Koshare, something so far outside her comfort zone, makes me incredibly proud of her. So, doing anything to embarrass her or take away from that accomplishment is the LAST thing I would do.

 Tonight is opening night. And this sometimes conflicting Jack of All Trades plans to bring the house down. Which, to be honest, reinforces that nice little phrase I attempt to live by.

Carpe diem.

Sophomore Spring I

It's been a while. And yes, they're back. Once again, this is for my lovely sister, Heather, and hope that Ollie and Murph will make you smile as much in their Sophomore Spring as they did during the Fall.

An hour car ride can go a few different ways, one of them being a fantastic chance to wrap a frayed mind around an almost unrealistic last week and a half. Wrap a frayed mind around the fact that the only grandfather I'd known was gone.

Piano music floated from the speaker on the passenger side. One of my favorite songs.

I heard there was a secret chord/that David played and it pleased the Lord/but you don't really care for music, do ya

Frickin' tears. Felt like this was all I'd been doing for days, and it was partially true. It was all most of us had been doing. Hard not to. Just kept wiping them away.

And I've seen your flag on the marble arch/love is not a victory march/it's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah

Don't keep seeing his smile. The big red van going around the corner. Him feeding the chickens. Learning to drive the riding lawn mower around the upper field. Leaving corn on the salt blocks for the deer. The smile on his face after successfully tying his ragged shoelaces and his equally ragged work boots. Don't remember he's the one who taught you..

Don't remember, and don't forget.

And the holy dark was moving to and every breath we drew was hallelujah

Damn it.

Don't see his smile coming down the hill the first time on a bicycle - no training wheels.

It's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah.

I smeared hot tears across my cheeks, not sure how the car stayed in its lane, and really not sure how the sign reading twenty-two miles to Geneva was comprehensible.

Damn it.

Hallelujah...


The room was cold. First order of business was heat, then Henry on his stand and...more or less getting all the stuff from the hallway into the corner single. Then back in the car and back home and...

Breathe. Breathe. Deep in. Deep out.

I sniffled, swallowing hard. Turned, looked, and froze, my ability to get a handle compromised by the body leaning against the door frame.

"Shit," I muttered, pushing back the too-long sleeves on my borrowed flannel shirt. Murph looked at me, hazel eyes unreadable.

"You gonna be around for a little while or is this a dump and run?" he asked.

I stuffed my hands in my pockets. "A - A dump and run."

"When's calling hours?" His voice was soft. Like he knew it wouldn't take much to break the cracks already there.

"Six to eight. Funeral's at eight." Son of a bitch. Don't poke me too hard, Murph. Not entirely sure I can handle it.

"Let me help you." He pushed off the door frame to stand in my personal space, one of his boots in either side of mine. "We'll make your bed before you go, yeah?"

"I'm not sleeping in it until tomorrow night," I snorted, hands out of my pockets to do that damn self-hug around my middle. Touching Murph right now meant losing it epically. "I'm staying at the house tonight and driving up tomorrow morning."

He nodded. "Okay."

"I hate this," I whispered.

Murph moved first, pulling me to him to engulf me, holding me tight because he knew - he had to - that he was the only thing keeping me together right then. I wrapped my arms around his middle, fisting his t-shirt at the small of his back to ground myself.

If there was a way for me to crawl up into him and the love and safety and Murphy-ness of him, I would have done it. But this? Me grinding my forehead into his sternum in an effort not to soak his shirt with tears was working, too.

I don't know how long we stayed like that, but we had to separate because I had to get going. Murph helped me make my bed, and when we had that done we sat on it and just looked at the stuff I was going to - eventually - have to unpack. But it didn't matter. What did matter was his large hand, warm and safe, around my own cold one.

It was the way he'd said I love you loud and clear. And exactly what I needed.


"You look so pretty, Ollie," Grandma Boyd said, her old wrinkled fingers touching my cheek.

"Thanks, Gramma." My face had to be red and splotchy, considering I burst into tears even looking in the direction of the casket. So it was safer in the secluded area by the doorway to color with El. She was a little subdued, of course, who was happy in a freakin' funeral home?

Gramma Boyd tottered over to my cousins - Kip and Joe - who sat watching the memory slide show.

"Aunt Ollie?"

I opened the clear plastic bag with the crayons, thinking she was going to ask for another color. "Yeah, little one?"

"Why are there two Morephy's?"

O-kay. This was unexpected. And kind of like a punch to the gut. Murphy the cat was at El's house, and Murphy the boyfriend was in Geneva.

"There - Murph's at college, hunny." I looked at her serious blue eyes and turned to follow when she pointed. The two fairly large men in the doorway - in dark suits, too - looked an awful lot like Murph and Liam.

Holy shit. That was actually my boyfriend and his twin. In the doorway.

"Morephy?" El asked, looking between me and the boys.

"Yeah. Murphy." Great time for more waterworks as Murph came over, knelt to be level with El, and set about explaining that Liam was his brother. Liam sat next to me, watching his twin, and it was best for me to just process at my own pace the fact that they were even here.

"So, he's your brother?" El asked, looking between Liam and Murph.

"Yup. Just like your Aunt Ollie and your mom are sisters," Murph said, holding his hands out.

El nodded like a bobblehead.

"Everything okay?"

If Izzy felt unnerved about having two identical stares leveled at her, she didn't show it. She looked between the twins - much the same way El had - and settled on the warm body next to me being the right one. "Murphy?"

Liam chuckled, standing and holding his hand out. "Liam. William, actually, but Liam. Please."

Pretty sure my brain had stopped all higher functions. Quite possibly fallen into an alternate dimension. Maybe the Doctor's Tardis was parked out back.

"Well, I feel like an idiot," Izzy muttered.

"Everybody does it," Liam said with a smile. "We do it intentionally with our new teammates."

"Makes me feel a little better." Izzy sat down on the bench across the small space. "If you want to check in with mom and dad..."

Murph looked at me. "Probably should hi to your parents and thank them for the card." He smiled gently at El. "And thank you, El, for your card when I was sick."

El beamed.

He stood; I got to my feet and straightened my pant legs. It had been a while since I'd had to wear my dress pants - and heels - but it was a small inconvenience, all things considered.

Murph had found my parents, Izzy and Dean were with El and still coloring, Kip and Joe were sitting already, an empty chair between them for me, and Liam had just been waylaid by Gramma Boyd -

Shit.

I beat feet over, meeting Liam's eyes over the top of my grandmother's head.

"Olivia," Gramma Boyd said, "your boyfriend is a very handsome young man."

"Yes, yes he is." Murph was indeed adorable. "But this isn't Murphy. This is his brother, Liam."

"Oh." She seemed taken aback. "You're still a very handsome young man."

Liam went pink in the cheeks. "Thank you, ma'am."

I scrubbed my forehead. That's my grandmother. "Gramma, I think we should go sit down."

Liam looked for his brother while I led Gramma Boyd to her seat next to Aunt Janelle. The twins were somewhere in the third row, and I was between Joe and Kip with a death grip on a hand on either side of me. The open casket was in front of me, and a lifetime of memories lay behind it.


Drained. Funeral services were draining. I adjusted my gray sweater before slinging my pea coat on. Pretty sure I'd cried more in the past hour than in the past year.

Gloved fingers slipped between mine. Didn't need to look to know it was Murph.

"You okay?" Murph as asked as we stood on the sidewalk looking across the street at the park. The Christmas decorations were still up, lights reflecting off the snow.

"I"m gettin' there." It was the truth.

He squeezed my fingers.

"We're thinkin' about goin' to Dunkin. You wanna come?" Murph glanced at his brother, who nodded. "We can take you home after."

"Let me tell my parents."

In the span of roughly two minutes to find my mother, hammer out the details, and go clomping back across the tiny parking lot, Kip and Joe had not only met the MacRiley twins but arranged a happy family-esque trip to Dunkin Donuts. And also explained how I was going to get home without making Murph and Liam drive up the hill in the middle of January in he opposite direction they needed to go.

Neither Kip nor Joe said anything about me climbing into the back of the Honda with Murph. The ride to the other end of my painfully small town was in silence. Thankfully, Murph and Liam understood my need to decompress.

Pretty sure the Dunkin night crew didn't know what to do with the five of us arriving en masse. Murph's hand was a steady presence at the small of my back. A medium hot chocolate, vanilla frosted donut, and four offers of chivalry later, I was at a high table by the window with my cousins across from me and Murph next to me.

"When do classes start?" Kip asked.

"Tomorrow," Liam and I said together.

"Are you going back tonight?" Joe asked me, sipping his coffee. If possible, he drank more caffeine on a regular basis than me.

It was luck we hadn't had heart attacks.

"No, I'm driving up tomorrow morning in time for class." Which, maybe not one of my brighter ideas, was certainly the current master plan. Happy sophomore spring.

"What are you two majoring in?" Kip asked.

"History," Murph supplied, and a beat later Liam chimed in with, "Sociology."

My cousins' expressions were priceless.

"So, how..."

"Pre-season," Murph and I said together. "I whacked my head off a Ford when the football team was moving in. And Murphy and I just kept running into each other."

Murph nodded with a what-can-ya-do kind of shrug.

"And I met Ollie when Murph wound up in the ER after taking a picture frame to the back of the head at Colby's house."

"I had to call him for a ride back to campus." Which, to be honest, was probably the one night permanently burnt into my head. "But Mama and Dad don't know that," I added casually.

Kip and Joe saluted with their cups.

We passed some more time trading a few stories, simply decompressing. Until someone caught sight of the clock and we knew we had to go. It would take the twins at least forty-five minutes to get back. And God only knew what was going on up on the hill.

Filing out of DD and across the parking lot, Murph pulled me into a hug, kissing the top of my head.

"How about we go out to dinner tomorrow night? You and me?" Murph said.

"Ice cream. I don't care where we go as long as it's got ice cream." My hands fisted the back of his coat. Damn, the tail end of break had been rough. "Call me when you get back."

"Call me if you need me." He stepped back slightly, dropping a kiss to my forehead. "Love you."

"Love you, too." I had to make myself walk away and get int the back of Kip's car.

And to think, this was only the beginning of the semester.

Project ADD

Today, for a little while longer, is October 31. First and foremost, Happy Halloween, and hope everybody had a lovely Wednesday. Mine was rather interesting, considering it was business like normal. But as my chemistry professor was giving out extra points for costumes, my morning consisted of wracking my brains - because, honestly, I was supposed to plan? - and figuring out that with my closet of clothes I could pass myself off as a "starving artist." From a novelist point of view, anyway. One mason jar with a few dollars in it, jeans, layers, flannel, boots, and a cardboard sign with "Will write for food" on it, I was all set to go.

They do say the accessories make the outfit. In this instance, it was more than true.

Tomorrow is the first day of November, and everyone in the writing community has been gearing up for NaNoWriMo - National Novel Writing Month, where the goal is to crank out a novel of at least 50,000. Ironically enough, Sage started out as my NaNo project back in 2009. Clearly, I failed, as I only finished the manuscript this past June. It's the thought that counts, sometimes, I guess.

Anyway. This isn't a post to tell everybody about the exciting new NaNo idea I'm going to run with. I'm not specifically starting a new project. If I happen, by working throughout November, wind up with 50,000 words of a project, or in editing and rewriting, then fabulous. But there's too much going on - including a possible date with a boy, which as soon as I can sort through all that, I'll let you in on - for me to be able to say with any certainty that I'll sit down and pound out a brand new novel, start to finish, in 30 days.

As always, I'm plodding along with Sage, and perhaps some Murphy and Me: Sophomore Fall, too. But I'm also writing new stuff, like Terrathela, and might even wander back to working on The Icicle Man or Waitress in Love.

If I'm really good, I'll get my ass in gear and start churning out Murphy and Me: Sophomore Spring, but I think my sister's thinking pigs will fly before that point. If it makes anybody feel better, they're currently stuck at the Dunkin Donuts in my hometown, and I haven't quite figured out how to get them out of there.

So, that's kind of a quick update on the project front. I'll have news about The Boy shortly, once I kind of figure out what I'm doing. Then again, not knowing is half the fun, isn't it?

Water-Tight....Not So Much

There was a post I meant to put up about a week ago - last Thursday, actually - more or less outlining my plan to drive to Vermont to see my friend who's at UVM Med School. I don't think I'd had a decent way of closing it, so I more or less saved it, and forgot to post it. Which, sadly, happens with me more than I'd like to admit.

Anyway.

Last weekend I spent 6 hours in my lovely little Buick driving no less than 70 on the highways on my way to Burlington, Vermont, to spend the weekend with two friends I haven't seen since graduation back in May. We had a blast. I arrived in the evening on Friday - I had classes earlier that day - and after pizza, beer, and the decision to make pancakes the next morning, figured out there was this really cool thing called the Giant Pumpkin Regatta happening on Sunday.

Take a giant pumpkin (900 pounds and up), hollow it out, put it in Lake Champlain, and stick somebody (or two people), give 'em a paddle, and let 'em race. It was so fun. It's a waterfront festival as well, so there were vendors, food trucks, a Ben and Jerry's tent (we are in Vermont, after all), and it was a great day to spend down by the lake looking out across at New York with the Adirondacks rising in the background.

We had eaten our way through Vermont the day before, starting with Ben and Jerry's, Cabot Cheese, Lake Champlain Chocolates, and Cold Hollow Cider Mill for cider donuts. Then up through the Green Mountains - Mount Mansfield specifically, through Smuggler's Notch - and then back toward Burlington for dinner at our friend's parents' house.

All in all it was a great weekend. If you check my Twitter, there are lots of Instagram links to photos I took while I was getting there, there in Burlington, and then getting home. And, because I love my camera slightly more than I love my iPhone, I took regular pictures, too.

I need a little more time to process my past week before I figure out a way to blog about it. It's midterms. That should be a big hint.

Burlington, Vermont Waterfront Park (looking toward New York)

900+ Pound Floating Pumpkins

People from local businesses man their pumpkins.

They really don't float too well.

HWS Classes of 2012 and 2013.

Apparently, when I see a body of water and walk a beach, I must put my feet in it. Lake Champlain in October.

Downtown Burlington.

On the Charlotte-Essex Ferry coming back to New York.