TEACHER'S PET Excerpt

Photo Credit: Bunches and Bits {Karina} on Flickr

Steven Dorian considered himself to be the best-looking teacher at Miller High School. In his mind, there was no contest. The youngest hire in Miller history, he had already earned a reputation by the end of his first month. He heard the other teachers whispering in the hallways. The silences when he passed. He recognized the silence from his high school days. Unfriendly.

Steven didn't care. They could talk all they wanted. All the gossip in the world didn't change the fact that he was more qualified than they were. Overqualified, some might say, and they would be right.

He sat behind his desk and thought about his position. He didn't belong there. He deserved to be teaching British literature in one of those ritzy schools uptown--the university, even. He reflected on the concept of paying one's dues with grim determination. He would make it in the world.

It was then that a student slid a note across his desk.

Steven picked up the note. He looked up, saw blonde hair--the girl had disappeared. He hadn't seen her face. Even if he had, he was still learning faces. There was no guarantee he would recognize her.

He opened his hand. The note was warm, though from his touch or from hers, he had no idea. "Mr. Dorian" was scrawled across the front in sloping cursive. She had left her name off. The mystery thrilled him.

He opened the note. The writing inside was sloppier, scribbled in haste and slanting right. The ink was smeared in some places. He laid the paper on the desk and smoothed the creases with his hand. His eyes skimmed the page. As he read, he felt his eyebrows shoot up into his hairline.

All that from a student?

Steven let go of the note. He leaned back in his chair and let his arms fall by his sides.

He was in trouble.

#

The next day while his students were taking a quiz on Christina Rossetti, Steven checked out every blonde girl in the room. Although he hadn't seen the face of the girl who left the note, none of the girls in his class looked right to him. He couldn't say for certain how he'd know which girl was right. He suspected he'd just have some kind of gut feeling.

Steven took out his tattered copy of Misery and leafed through it. Every page had at least one underlined section. The book had been his favorite when he was in college and he hadn't opened it since. Looking through it now, he felt a little guilty. He also felt a strange kinship to Paul Sheldon, the protagonist. Like Paul, he often feared becoming the object of a psychopath's obsession. After all, who could blame him or her for being attracted to someone as remarkable as Steven?

Half an hour passed. Most of his students had finished already. They brought their papers to the front of the room and laid them on his desk before returning to their seats. Once they were back at their desks, Steven set down his book and scanned their handwriting. Nothing matched the note.

Ten minutes before the bell rang, the last student turned her test in. Lola Dolores, blonde-haired and long-legged, sashayed to the front of the room and added her test to the pile. He looked up from his book. Their gazes met.

"Did you get my note?" she asked. Her voice was barely audible. She was leaning over Steven's desk, and he had to make an effort not to look down her blouse.

Steven feigned ignorance. "I'm not sure what you're saying."

"The note I left on your desk yesterday. I was wondering if you read it."

"We'll discuss this after class."

Lola smirked. Steven watched her walk back to her seat. Then, he picked up Misery and went back to reading.

The next ten minutes passed slowly; torturously. The whole time Steven rehearsed what he was going to say. He had never been approached by a student before. He knew he wasn't supposed to engage in any inappropriate behavior, but his class was full of seniors. If Lola was eighteen, then surely it would all work out. Besides, what were the odds of his boss or anyone else finding out? He wouldn't tell if she wouldn't. No, of course not.

Lola Dolores was attractive. There was no doubt about it. Steven had been single for a long time now and he could use the flirtation. It was all fairly harmless. Everything would be fine.

Once the bell rang and students filed out of the classroom, Steven felt his heart punch the inside of his sternum. It was time to speak with Lola. He slipped a bookmark into Misery and slammed it shut. Right on cue, Lola made her way toward his desk. She smelled like strawberries. The scent spoke before she did.

"You wanted to see me?"

No, Steven thought, she wanted to see him. He tapped his fingers on the top of his desk. "I read the note you left for me."

"Yeah?" she asked. "What did you think?"

He studied her face before going any further. She looked much older than her chronological age. She was gorgeous, too. Who could blame him for considering an affair with her? There was something strange behind her eyes, too. It took Steven a moment to identify what it was. Fear.

"You aren't in any trouble, if that's what you're afraid of."

Lola's shoulders relaxed as she exhaled. "That's a good thing."

Steven knew she was waiting for him to continue. He cleared his throat. "Why don't you have a seat? What's your next class? I can write an excuse for you."

"Just lunch," she said. Instead of returning to her desk, Lola sat down on the edge of his, swinging her legs back and forth like a child. He forced the association to the back of his mind. She didn't look like a child. No, not at all.

He got up from behind the desk and walked over to stand in front of her. He was only a little bit taller than she was when she was sitting. For now, he kept a respectful amount of distance between them. "I'm assuming all of this is concerning your grade."

"In part," she said.

"What do you mean?"

Lola smiled. "Mr. Dorian, I'm sure you've heard everyone talking about the fact that you're the hottest teacher in school. If not, well... you should know that it's the truth."

Steven flushed with pride. Of course he'd already known that his reputation preceded him. Still, it was nice to have his suspicions confirmed--from the mouths of babes and all. "I've heard some rumors."

"I plan on majoring in literature when I go to college," she said, "so you can understand how important this class is to me." Lola looked up at him through her eyelashes. They were longer and thicker than he'd noticed before. Then again, he'd never gotten to look at her up close. "I'm tired all the time from cheerleading practice, so I might not give it my best effort sometimes, but that doesn't mean I don't care." She licked her lips. "I need to do well in this class."

"As long as you do the work, you should be just fine." He had an idea what she was getting at, based on the content of the note, but he wanted to hear her say it. It was better if she said it.

"I'd like to arrange some extra credit opportunities with you," she said. "Just in case my academic performance isn't what it should be. Do you still have the note?"

Of course he had the note. It had taken up residence in his front pocket. He'd read it over and over the previous night until his eyelids got too heavy for him to keep open.

A smirk tugged at the corners of his lips again. "How old are you?"

"Just turned eighteen. Why do you ask?" She was toying with him. There was no way a girl like Lola could write the kind of note she'd given him without knowing why he would want to know her age.

"Tell you what," he said, leaning closer to her, "if you'd like some extra tutoring, I could certainly arrange that. I'd like you to stay after school tomorrow and go over the rest of the Victorian poets with me. How does that sound?"

"Perfect," she said.

He couldn't agree more.

To read the rest of the story, please click over to my Wattpad. Thanks!

What do you think of this excerpt? How do you feel about Wattpad?

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"He wouldn't tell if she wouldn't. No, of course not." Teacher Steven Dorian is in trouble in this story by @brianawrites. (Click to tweet)

23 Before 23

Photo Credit: Will Clayton on Flickr

This year is going to be a big one for me. I can feel it.

In a few short months, I’ll be 23 years old. It’s hard for me to believe it. While 23 isn’t a milestone birthday, I still think it’s an important one. I want to make it count.

This year, I decided to make a list of 23 things I want to do before turning 23. Some of the items on the list are serious, some are silly, and some won’t make any sense to anyone but me. All that matters is that I’m striving to achieve these goals before June 17, 2015. By posting them online, I trust you all to hold me accountable. I’m also hoping some of you can help me cross a few things off. If you think you can help with any of these, please let me know in the comments section!

Now, without further ado, here’s my list of 23 Before 23:

1. Stop drinking soda. I know it’s bad for me, and I don’t even want to think about how much extra sugar I’m putting in my body. As much as I love Coca-Cola, I want to go cold turkey.
2. Read 23 books. I don’t have much free time anymore, but I really want to do this. It’s not far off from my 2014 Reading Challenge Goal, and that took a whole year, but I know I can do it.
3. Pay off my cat’s veterinary bills. Right after I moved to Florida, my cat had to have part of her tail amputated. That was expensive. Once it started healing, she cut a different part of her tail, and we had to go to the emergency clinic. That wasn’t cheap, either. I want to do everything I can to keep my good credit, so I’d love to pay her bills off sometime before my birthday.
4. Make a dent in my student loans. At last calculation, it should take me about seven years to pay them off at my current income bracket. Ha. I’d like to shave a little time off that estimate, if possible.
5. Host a dinner party. Now that I have my own place and can cook a few things, I think it’s time to have people over for a meal. Plus, it sounds like a super grown-up event.
6. Get published. Whether it’s a short story or a novel, I want to get something else of mine published before turning 23.
7. Join a club. I’ve lived here for a few months, but I still don’t know many people. I want to look for a book or writing club to join so I can participate in the community… and do things besides watch Netflix when I get home from work.
8. Comment on at least one blog post per day. In 2014, I realized the importance of engagement in building community. I want to contribute more this year, so I’m going to start leaving my thoughts on posts I enjoy.
9. Trade guest posts with three bloggers. If you’re reading this post and you think you might be interested, let me know in the comments. I’d love to do a swap!
10. Mentor someone. I’m not sure in what capacity, but I’d love the opportunity to encourage someone else.
11. Get a new laptop. Admittedly, this one should come after numbers three and four.
12. Save $1000 dollars. I know I need to have some money set aside in case of emergency, and I need to get serious about making that happen.
13. Go ziplining. I’ve been a few times before, and I adore it. Also, there might be a place close to where I live.
14. Try out for a play. It’s been too long.
15. Consistently post three times a week. I’ve been sporadic lately, and I want to get back to posting regularly.
16. Say "yes" to invitations. Like most writers, I can be a hermit sometimes. When I get invited to do things, I'm going to make it a point to say, "yes."
17. Volunteer. Whether it's at the local retirement home or animal shelter, I want to give back.
18. Contact one writer, blogger, or person I admire per week. I'm afraid of reaching out to people, and I have no idea why. Some people mean a lot to me. I need to let them know how much their work inspires me. It might make their day.
19. Compile a blog directory. Ava Jae's blog directory is absolutely gorgeous and an excellent idea.
20. Support my favorite authors and beloved writing tweeps. Pretty self-explanatory.
21. Stop biting my nails. It's a terrible habit.
22. Make my bed every day. I'm not sure why, but I feel better when I look into my room and see that my bed in made. Explain that one, psychology.
23. Visit New York again. Because that city is totally calling my name.

There they are: my goals and resolutions to accomplish before my 23rd birthday. As of this post going live, I have five months and 12 days to get these things done. Challenge accepted.

What do you think of these 23 goals? What are some things you'd like to accomplish this year?

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Instead of New Year's Resolutions, @brianawrites has a list of 23 things to do before turning 23. (Click to tweet)

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What I Learned About Writing in 2014

Like many of you, 2014 was a big year for me. It was full of beautiful moments as well as heartbreaking ones. It tested me in so many ways. At the same time, this past year helped me grow as a person and as a writer.

Here are some things I learned about writing in 2014.

• If you want results, you have to be consistent. If you want to improve your writing skills, you must write something every day. A runner won't win a race without practice. Neither will you.
• Editing is difficult yet necessary. After finally finishing the first drafts of two difficult manuscripts, I set off on the path to revision. It's an arduous journey that's still in progress. When I started, I was terrified. How could anyone finish? Now, I understand the merits of revision. Although I'm nowhere near finished, I'm learning to enjoy the process.
• When it comes to readership, value engagement rather than numbers. This concept has been frustrating to grasp until recently. After talking with several of my writing friends, including the wonderful Stephen Moran, I realized that numbers don't signify much. It's great to see my readership growing over time, but I want to avoid fixating on numbers. What's most important to me? Interacting and engaging with my new audience. This past year, I focused on growing a community, and my online experience was much more rewarding.
• Reading is key. Okay, I've always known that reading was important, especially to writers. But this year, I realized that reading is a vital part of my wellbeing. Whenever I'm feeling down or stuck or uninspired, I dive into a novel. The quick jaunt through someone else's fictional world is enough to spark my inspiration and motivate me to keep going. If you've hit a wall, I recommend reading a couple of books.
• Twitter is the ultimate online community for writers. I'm thankful for the people I've met on Twitter. In light of the past year, I can't imagine my life without them. Their encouragement, support, advice, and motivation keeps me going even on my most difficult days. If you're not on Twitter, sign up now! And feel free to follow me. :)

These are just some of the big things I learned about writing this year. Looking forward, I can't wait to see how I'll continue to evolve in my craft. I can't wait to see what you come up with, too. I wish all of you a happy and creative new year. Let's keep moving, no matter what!

What did you learn about writing in 2014? What are you going to work on this year?

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.@brianawrites shares what she learned about writing in 2014. What about you? (Click to tweet)

Everyone I Love is Dead (And/Or Gay): My Literary Crushes

I've been sitting on this title for longer than I'd care to admit. I even knew what I wanted to cover in this post. For some reason, until now, I've been too embarrassed to follow through with writing and publishing it.

Today's topic is going to be my literary crushes.

Truth be told, that title serves two purposes: to capture your attention as well as to reveal my poor tastes in men. I always want what I can't have. You'll see what I mean.

• Oscar Wilde. He tops my list because he's tops, and I love him the most. Known for his wit and flamboyant ways, Wilde died of illness in 1900. Also, he was gay. It would never have worked between us. (Someone please take me to Dublin so I can see for myself that that statue is real. THAT SASS.)
• Eric Blair. Also known as George Orwell, Blair died in 1950. I owe my love for dystopian fiction and sense of impending doom to him.
• Ernest Hemingway. "Papa" Hemingway was a man's man who snagged my heart as easily as he could snag a fish. Known for his adventurous spirit and luck with the ladies, Hemingway hid a sadness few people could imagine. The tortured writer committed suicide in 1961.
• F. Scott Fitzgerald. In spite of the way he treated his wife, I still adore him. He died in 1940. We'll always have Gatsby.
• George Gordon, Lord Byron. It's cliche, but I can't help it. He was legendary for his romantic exploits. I'd like to see what all the fuss was about. Besides, he's beautiful. Byron died in 1824, probably in the middle of some kind of tryst.

Now that I've bared my soul to you, I urge you not to laugh. There's a reason I wasn't alive to meet these men. I like to think it was for my own good.

Who are some of your literary crushes?

My Writing Process

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Lately more and more people have been asking me about my writing process. This interest probably stems from my comments about editing. Friends, family, and sometimes even strangers are intrigued. They want to peek inside my brain to see what writing is like for me. It's crazy.

I'm simultaneously puzzled and flattered by the curiosity. Let's be frank: I'm nothing close to Stephen King. No matter how small-time I feel, I'm happy to oblige. Whether I'm writing a blog post, a short story, or a novel, this is basically my writing process.

1. Inspiration. The madness starts when an idea falls into my head, seemingly from out of nowhere. Sadly there isn't an Idea Store. Whenever an idea comes to me, I record it and work on fleshing it out. Fun fact: I don't outline.

2. First draft. I get this sucker down as fast as I can. When it comes to first drafts, it's okay write crap. Even if I feel like what I'm writing is abysmal, I focus on getting it down somewhere. You can fix a bad page; you can't fix a blank one. I can write the first draft of a blog post in half an hour, a shorty story in an hour, and a novel in six weeks.

3. Cooling off. I don't have much of a cooling off period for blog posts. For short stories, I tend to wait about a day before diving into revision. For novels, I can take anywhere from one to three months. I like to distance myself from the material. The more objectivity I can approach it with, the better.

4. Read through and notes. This part is painful. By this point I've forgotten how awful my first draft is and am not looking forward to reminding myself. Once I've printed my work out or exported it to my Kindle (so I'm not tempted to edit as I read), I go through it in one sitting and make note of what needs fixing.

5. Second draft. Armed with my notes and a plan of attack, I dive headfirst into revision. Sometimes this means minor changes. More often than not, it means a nearly complete rewrite. The YA novel I'm editing at the moment is the latter. It's a struggle.

6. Rinse and repeat. Keep going until you can't edit anymore. When it's finished, you'll know. Reward yourself for your hard work and work on publication!

The time it takes me to complete a project may vary, but on the whole, this is my general writing process. Feel free to try out my system for yourself. Remember, however, that the ideal writing process is whichever one works best for you.

What's your writing process like? What are you currently working on?

MUD EYES Excerpt, Draft 2

Photo by Ian Hughes on Flickr

I was inspired to post this excerpt after seeing that Ksenia Anske had some on her blog. I didn't want to put the first draft up for obvious reasons. I'm not entirely comfortable posting this one, either, but at least it's been edited a little. Let me know what you think! Update: the next part is here.

MUD EYES

A novel by Briana Morgan, Draft 2 

Chapter One. Empty

Two weeks after my birthday, my brother was murdered.

The people came and took his body away in a black bag. When they zipped it up and hid his face, I felt like they erased him from existence. That was impossible. He was already gone.

I stood on the front steps because I didn't know what else to do. I didn't feel like doing anything. One of the policemen told me they were looking into it. He had green eyes. I knew better. My brother had had brown eyes, so he would be forgotten. No one but me cared what happened to him. That was the way it had always been.

It started to rain.

I swallowed a laugh. In the movies, it rained when somebody died. If only I were living in a movie—directed by God and playing the role of the heartbroken sibling, alone in the world. Only I wasn’t playing. I had lost my parents and now I had lost Rory.

A police officer laid a hand on my shoulder. His face was kind but his eyes were green. He didn’t care about me.

“Is there somewhere you can go?”

I was seventeen years old. I had to live with someone for another year at least. Some kind of legal guardian. The officer was asking if I had other family.

"No,” I said, “there’s nowhere.”

"The officer frowned. “We can put you up in a hotel for the night. Then tomorrow morning we can make arrangements. How is that?”

It sounded awful. I didn’t want to leave my house. Rory and I had built a life there together. Some of my best memories were created in that house. At the same time, it felt empty without him. So empty. And there was still blood and broken glass everywhere. It was hard for me to see.

“Sounds okay,” I lied.

“Perfect,” he said, “why don’t you come along with me?”

He kept his hand on my shoulder and steered me in the direction of his cruiser.

I turned over my shoulder to look at the gurney being wheeled into the ambulance. I didn’t recognize it as a part of my brother. My brother wasn’t in that bag. He was somewhere else.

The officer opened the door and held it for me. I slid into the seat. The leather was cool against my skin.

"Did you want to get your belongings?” he asked.

I hadn’t thought about it. Earlier when I’d tried to go into my bedroom, the police had told me not to touch anything. How was I supposed to pack my suitcase without touching things?

"I didn’t think I could.”

“I could go get some things for you. Do you know what you want?”

I wanted Rory back. “No.”

“Okay, do you want to wing it for a night and swing by here in the morning?”

I had no idea. I didn’t want anything. There was a hollow place inside of me getting bigger every second. I was numb.

I shrugged.

He nodded, closed the door, and climbed into the driver’s seat.

I put on my seatbelt. Rory would have made me. He’d cracked down on seatbelts since our parents’ accident, which was understandable, so I tried not to let it bother me. I knew he meant well. No one could ever love me as much as he had. Not even our parents had loved me that much. We didn’t pass judgment—that was simply a fact.

The policeman didn’t check to make sure I was wearing my seatbelt. In the rearview mirror, I saw he wasn’t wearing his. He hadn’t reached for it. He made no attempt to fasten it. That was also a fact, though there was some judgment. I knew what Rory would have to say about that man.

When the officer revved the engine, the interior fell silent. He didn’t turn on the radio. Neither of us talked.

#

The Innisbrook Motel wasn’t far from where I lived. We got there in less than ten minutes. I was relieved. I wanted to get away from the policeman as soon as possible. It wasn’t anything against him—I was worn out from answering questions and sharing my feelings with strangers. I wanted to be alone. I craved peace and quiet.

The motel was cramped and a little disheveled. It wasn’t disgusting or run-down but had seen better days. It wasn’t the cheapest option in town, but it might have been the runner-up. I didn’t care. The sooner I got inside and locked the door the better.

The police officer waited to leave after I was checked in. He asked me if I need anything. I needed everything and nothing all at the same time.

“I’ll swing by to get you in the morning,” he said. “You’ll probably need to answer a couple more questions.”

After the interrogation I’d had earlier, I couldn’t imagine what questions there were left to ask. Did your brother have enemies? I didn’t know. I didn’t think so. He was a good man. Was there anything to be gained from his death? He didn’t have life insurance and we were pretty poor. Do you have any idea who might have killed him? If I did, I wouldn’t have been answering questions. I’d be tracking down the killer and getting revenge.

“Okay,” I said.

He left me standing in front of the stairs. He got into the car and drove away without so much as a wave.

I climbed the stairs to the second floor. My room was 210. The motel was pretty empty. Either people were out for the day or there weren’t many guests. I passed one room with the curtains drawn—light filtered out from a crack in the fabric. Every other room I passed was dark. Room 209 was also dark, but I heard voices. A man and a woman were talking.

I stuck my card key into the lock. I could hear every word that the couple was saying.

“It would be easier with colored contacts,” the man said.

The light on the lock flashed red. I tried again.

“Don’t say that here,” said the woman.

“He won’t hear us.”

“Walls can talk.”

The light flashed green. I froze with my hand on the handle of the door. They were talking about colored contacts. The only thing I knew about them was that they were illegal. They’d been outlawed under the Ocular Codes. Everyone knew that. Why bring them up?

Curiosity got the best of me. I hovered outside.

“It’s not the safest course of action,” the man said. “I’d feel much better if we could wait a few days.”

"You know that’s impossible.”

“I know, I know. I just wish things were different.”

"Don’t we all?”

The man coughed. No one said anything for a minute. I thought they were finished with their conversation. I twisted the doorknob and went inside. Right before the door closed, I heard their door open.

I froze again. Someone had left the room. I pressed my ear against the door and heard murmuring. I recognized the man’s voice.

“You want anything else besides ice?”

“No thanks,” the woman called.

I pulled back from the door. I knew he couldn’t see me, but I felt safer anyway. I knew I wasn’t supposed to have heard that conversation. I couldn’t get the words out of my head. They were plotting something illegal. What could it be? Why did they need colored contacts?

I heard their door open again. It must have been the woman. I leaned against the door again but this time leaned too hard. The door wasn’t closed all the way.

I fell through the crack and against the woman. She wasn’t much taller than me, but she was strong enough to catch me before I fell. Somehow I still hit my head on the railing. That’s the last thing I remembered.

#

I came to in my hotel room. At least, it looked like my hotel room.

After a minute I noticed the smell—stale cigarette smoke. I sat up and propped myself against the pillows. The woman from earlier sat in a chair at the end of the bed, smoking a cigarette and staring at me. Her dark hair fell over part of her face. The room wasn’t well-lit, but I knew she was beautiful. It emanated from her like an aura. I felt it.

“How long have I been out?” I asked.

She took a drag on her cigarette. “A couple of hours. You must have hit harder than I thought you did.”

“A couple of hours?”

“Or you were exhausted.”

She looked at me as though expecting an answer. I wanted to give her one more than I’d wanted anything in my entire life. I was taken aback. Why was I so captivated by her? What was the allure?

“Exhausted,” I said. “My brother just died.”

She lowered the cigarette. “I’m so sorry.”

Even though I barely knew her, I could tell she was sincere. Her eyes radiated warmth and sympathy—and they were brown like mine, which was a huge bonus. No matter how pretty she was, we were on equal ground in society.

I relaxed a little. “Thank you.”

“Was it sudden?”

“He was murdered last night.” The words fell out of my mouth before I could stop them. I was sure that was more than she’d wanted to hear. When I saw her eyes widen, I wished I could take it back. She didn’t need to know my tragic back story.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I don’t know what came over me.”

“Don’t apologize,” she said. “Never. Not for that.”  She tamped out the cigarette in the ashtray in her lap. I hadn’t noticed it before. Smoke hung around her face. She waved it away. “I had a brother who died a long time ago. Sometimes it still hurts.”

“How long ago?” I asked.

“Decades,” she said.

I didn’t push her for details. The idea that I’d still be living with grief years down the road terrified me. The ache was intense. I thought I’d never feel the way I felt when Rory and I lost our parents. Losing my brother was so much worse. I couldn’t remember what it felt like not to grieve. It hadn’t even been a full day since I’d lost him. I couldn’t imagine how this woman felt.

“What’s your name?” I asked.

"What’s yours?”

“Damita.”

“Hebrew,” she said, “isn’t it?”

I nodded. “I’m Jewish.”

“I’m Atalanta,” she said.

“What is that?”

She laughed and it was music. “That’s my name. Atalanta Silvestrov.” When I didn’t comment, she smiled. “My first name is Greek. My last is Russian. It throws people off.”

“Where’s the man who was with you?” I asked. I hated myself for speaking. The only way I knew that she was traveling with a man was because I’d eavesdropped on their conversation.

Her brow furrowed. “Who?”

I wondered if I should try to backpedal. I wasn’t sure if she’d heard me correctly and was just giving me a second chance or if she honestly hadn’t heard me. I didn’t want to repeat myself. I wanted to crawl under a rock.

"What man are you talking about?” she asked again.

I tried to come up with something that sounded halfway coherent. Then he came out of the bathroom wearing only a towel.

“Give it up,” he said. “We’re going to have to tell her.”

Liebster Award Nomination

I hadn’t heard of the Liebster Award before the lovely Jess at Like Star Filled Skies nominated me. Here’s the lowdown:

1) Post the Liebster Award graphic on your site.

2) Thank the blogger who nominated your blog.

3) Answer the 10 questions from the post of the person who nominated them.

4) The nominee will nominate 10 other blogs who have less than 200 followers.

5) The nominee will then create 10 questions of their own for their nominated bloggers to answer in their Liebster post.

Here are the questions from Jess:

1) What is your favorite fruit?
Strawberries, without a doubt.

2) If you could be any superhero you wanted, who would it be?
Black Widow because she’s a baller.

3) What one book could you read over and over again?
The Great Gatsby. And trust me, I have.

4) If you could own any exotic animal you wanted, what would it be?
A tiger!

5) Favorite sport to watch on television?
I can only tolerate sports when the Olympics are on. With that being said, I don’t mind watching soccer.

6) How would you describe your style?
Bohemian with edgy touches.

7) What 3 things would you like to do before you die?
Publish a novel, travel all throughout Europe, have children.

8) If you could move anywhere other than where you live now, where would that place be?
London.

9) Favorite book? Why?
Ohhh this is going to be a tough one. I’m caught between Gatsby and Nineteen Eighty-Four because both are timeless and I also find something new no matter how many times I read them.

10) As a kid, what did you always want to be when you grew up?
A dolphin trainer or an artist. SURPRISE, PAST ME.

Now, part of the challenge involves me tagging other people. but I’m not sure who to tag. If you want to participate, you can answer these questions and link back to my post:

1) What’s your favorite season? Why?

2) How many languages do you know?

3) What’s your earliest memory?

4) Who are your favorite authors?

5) What’s your favorite quote and where does it come from?

6) What’s your most irrational fear?

7) How do you feel about rain?

8) Tell me one short-term goal and one long-term goal.

9) If you could invite any three people to dinner, living or dead, who would they be?

10) Favorite time of day?

Feel free to answer these!

Taking Stock 01

I saw a post like this one on Meet Me At Mike's and wanted to try it out right away. I think it's an interesting and creative way to let everyone know what I've been up to lately. My plan right now is to make this a weekly feature, so hopefully you all enjoy it!

This past week has been crazy. I started a part-time retail job (my first retail job) and I am EXHAUSTED. Seriously, how do people do that for a living? Also I've developed a new-found appreciation for cashiers. You don't realize how hard that work can be. Trust me.

I've been busy working on my novel revision, too. I can't believe how well it's turning out (but more about that next Wednesday!). Tentative release date is somewhere close to Christmas. I'm so excited I can hardly stand it.

Everything's coming up Briana.

Writing : MUD EYES (revision)
Listening : To the sound of silence (no, not the song)
Drinking : Cold coffee and wishing I'd reheated it before coming upstairs
Reading: After Dark by Haruki Murakami
Wanting: A full-time job writing, blogging, or editing
Looking: At potential cover designs
Playing: Fruit Splash Mania
Deciding: Whether or not it's time to get dressed
Wishing: I could stay home and write all day
Enjoying: The feeling of accomplishment
Waiting: For a good night's sleep
Liking: The way my name sounds
Wondering: Why some people take pride in not reading
Loving: Early psychology experiments (SO fascinating!)
Pondering: How the word literally is used so incorrectly
Considering: What other words will come to have different meanings during my lifetime
Watching: Masters of Sex, Hell on Wheels, Doctor Who
Hoping: To get everything I need for my Dragon Con cosplays
Marvelling: At how wonderful my internet friends are
Needing: Encouragement and lots of it
Smelling: Watermelon candy (Dad made some earlier)
Wearing: A towel
Following: My own path
Noticing: The best parts of myself
Knowing: That I am more than the worst thing that happened to me
Thinking: My cat is prettier than I am
Feeling: Groggy yet optimistic
Admiring: My new desk
Sorting: Through plot lines that need to be rewritten
Buying: New shoes (God willing)
Getting: Excited about the future
Bookmarking: All the cheese-related recipes on Pinterest
Disliking: The radio station that plays in Office Max
Opening: Up a little more each day
Giggling: Because I hung my bra outside to dry
Feeling: Thankful, blessed, and incredibly lucky

What do you think of this feature? Do you want to take stock, too?

Day Twenty-Six: The War

My final class field trip took place today. Additionally, I realized that I have less than a week left in this fantastic country. I have mixed emotions. On one hand, I want nothing more than to go back home. I miss home-cooked meals, sleeping in my own bed, and so many other things.  At the same time, I am more in love with London than I've ever been with any other city, including New York, It's everything that I hoped it would be and so much more. Every day is better than the last (for the most part). I wish I could stay here a little bit longer.

I digress.

I went down to the front steps of Astor at 8:45 this morning to meet my world civilization class. Unfortunately, they were not there. I was an hour early. I went back upstairs.

At 9:45, I actually met up with my professor and classmates on the front steps of the college. We walked to the British Library to see an exhibit on propaganda. Since I love Nineteen Eighty-Four, it should come as no surprise that I enjoyed the exhibit. The only thing I didn't like was being unable to take pictures. Some of the advertisements were definitely shocking. I wish I could share them. Here's an example:



As you can imagine, there was plenty of propaganda-related memorabilia in the library's store. I purchased the most recent Penguin Classics edition of Nineteen Eighty-Four. The title and author are completely censored by black bars. I thought it was fitting.

After visiting the library, we broke for lunch. Zelda, Colleen, and I went across the street to Pizza Express. We shared the dough knots dipped in garlic butter. I also had pizza. Everything was delicious. I'm still not sure who told me that the food in England was awful. It must've been someone who's never actually eaten anything here before.

When lunch was over, we took the Tube to Westminster. St. James Park was close to the Tube station. We wandered through there on our way to the Churchill War Rooms Museum. The scenery was lovely. London has given me a newfound appreciation for parks. I totally understand why people want to sit outside now. The weather was so nice today. I could've spent the whole afternoon under a tree.

The Churchill War Rooms were spectacular. I'd heard nothing but good things about them before my trip, and I was not disappointed. I love Winston Churchill, and the wartime proceedings are fascinating to me. The War Rooms were set up just as they had been during World War II. Everything was still in remarkable condition. I took too many pictures. I'll only post a few here.

Somehow, though, Zelda and I managed to skip an entire room. We missed the Winston Churchill Museum. We only went through the War Rooms. I don't know what happened. At least we made it to the exit.

After the field trip, Zelda and I hung out in my room and tried to get some homework done. We didn't get very far. It was nice to hang out. Then I went to dinner with Ashley, Heather, Jim, and Jordan. We ate somewhere on Tottenham Court Road. It was awesome. We had dessert at Haagen Daz. Oh, man. What a day.

Now we're all hanging out in my room. Colleen and Raneem are in here, laughing and being loud and it's hilarious. They've had a great night so far. It's all very entertaining. Those girls are wonderful. Oh my gosh.

I don't want to leave London. I want to stay here forever. I am so torn. Anyway, I need to go to bed. We're going to M&M World tomorrow. I cannot wait.

Day Twenty-Four: Urban Playground

Yesterday wasn't one of the best days, but it was one of the best nights. During the day, I had classes, as per usual. In film studies, we watched The Devil Rides Out starring Christopher Lee. It was an example of "Hammer horror." Very cheesy, but I still enjoyed it. And Shannon and I now have a lot more inside jokes. In world civilization, we studied World War I, which is one of my favorite periods in history.

After classes, Shannon and I headed over to Trafalgar Square to purchase tickets to see The Hothouse starring John Simm, an actor who played The Master in Doctor Who. The play was very interesting. It's a political satire that takes place in a sanatorium. The dialogue and subtext was a little confusing, but I enjoyed it. And John Simm was beautiful. Shannon and I purchased our tickets for 10GPB. They were balcony seats. It wasn't terrible, but it certainly wasn't ideal. Luckily, we were upgraded to seats on the second row of the audience, close enough to almost touch the actors! Afterwards, we went to the stage door and got to meet some members of the cast. Also, I was so nervous that I took the worst photo of my life with Shannon's camera. I'm ashamed. Still, I didn't pee my pants or take my clothes off. I count that one as a win.



When the show was over, we ran around Trafalgar Square like little kids. It's beautiful at night. The fountains were lit up and everything. We climbed on top of the monument in the center and took pictures with the lions. It was fantastic.

I am head-over-heels in love with this city. It's breathtakingly lovely. I don't want to leave. I can only hope that someday, I'll be able to come back here. I'd love to live here. I guess we'll see.

 

Day 22: Camden Town

I spent a great deal of time in Camden yesterday. After eating the best chicken burger of my life (at Byron), Ashley, Heather, and I headed over to Camden Market. For those of you unfamiliar with the area, it's like one giant flea market with stalls and tents full of clothing, souvenirs, jewelry, and anything else you could possibly imagine. I am going back as much as I can before we go back to the States. It is amazing. I only spent 20GPB, and I got a lot of stuff. I even got to use some haggling skills I picked up in Mexico.



Exhausted after a few hours of shopping, the girls and I headed back to the dorms. I had a date to prepare for. I don't want to give too much away, but it was probably the best first date I've ever been on. Of course, he doesn't know that (but he probably figured it out). He took me to a pub in Camden, where we sat and talked for two hours. Then, we went to the highest hill in London. When we got to the top, we could see the entire city skyline lit up in the darkness (I KNOW).



This guy was a perfect gentleman. The conversation was excellent, and we're pretty comfortable around each other. Everything went swimmingly. Enough gushing, I know. But I'm pretty happy.

I only have ten more days in this beautiful city. Today, I'm doing homework, going to Abbey Road, and who knows what else. I'm pretending I don't have to go back to the States. So far, the denial is working for me. And on that note, I'm going to get back to work. Tomorrow is still a school day, after all.

Days 20 and 21: Bittersweet Symphony

Thursday, I was almost struck down by wave of nostalgia. Oddly enough, I was feeling nostalgic about my time in London, even though it's far from over. I only have two weeks left over here. Quite frankly, it's not enough time. I want to stay here forever.

London is everything I expected it to be and more. It's a city that doesn't quite feel like a city. It's sprawling and intimate at the same time. The people, for the most part, keep to themselves. The ones I have spoken to are friendly and polite (save for a few drunken gentlemen at the pub). The city is bustling during the day. At night, it sleeps. It's wonderful.

But I digress. I started this post to talk about the events of Thursday and Friday. Thursday was fairly boring. I went to the British Museum with my world civilization class. The building was massive. We were supposed to spend the majority of our time in the Asia galleries because we'd been studying China and Japan. Zelda and I breezed through the gallery. We wandered around some of the other exhibits, but they were hot and crowded. When we finally met up with the rest of the group, it felt to me as though an eternity had passed.



We had lunch at a little tea place a couple minutes' walk from the museum. I wasn't hungry because I'd gotten too hot, but I did order a slice of lemon cake and a Nutella cupcake (delicious). Then, we visited the Twinings Tea Museum, which was only one big room. I don't have much to say about that.

After the field trip, I came back to my room and took a nap because I'm still getting over being sick. Next, I went to the Spaghetti House with Cynthia, Matt, Stephen, and Jim in honor of Cynthia's birthday. I ordered chicken wings, and I only got three. Appetizer portion. Thanks, Europe! Anyway, it was good. Once we'd finished eating, Jim went to an Internet cafe, Stephen and Cynthia ran to Tesco, and Matt and I wandered around in search of an ATM.

Later, I went to the pub with Matt, Jim, and John. We didn't stay very long because it was crowded and hot. Are you sensing a theme here?

Friday (yesterday), I hung out with Heather and Ashley for most of the day. I love those ladies. We had lunch at Pizza Express and wandered around Baker Street in search of the Beatles store. Although it was difficult, we managed to find it. The store wasn't huge, but it had an excellent selection. I didn't end up buying anything. The t-shirts along were 25GPB. No thank you.



We got back from our excursion and rested for several hours. Then, we went to East Street for dinner. It was some of the best Asian food I've ever eaten. We came back to the dorms, changed clothes, and did our hair and makeup. Once we were ready, we headed out to O'Neill's with Angelica, Jordan, and Matt for a little bit of dancing. It was fantastic. A bit too crowded for my taste, but I managed all the same. By the time we got back, I was exhausted.

I only have eleven days or so until I go home. It's bittersweet, it really is. I love this city. I could picture myself spending a great deal more time here. This experience has been extraordinary for me. It's done so much good. I can't wait to tell everyone all about it. With that being said, there are a couple of things (and people) I miss back home. I guess when it comes down to it, I am a little glad I'll be going back to the States at the end of all of this.

Days Fourteen and Fifteen: Hanging with Emily

I haven't been updating this blog as much as I thought I would. I've been so busy. Friday I met Emily, my friend from Chicago, for breakfast at a little place on the corner. After drinking my large mocha and eating my delicious croissant (free with a large drink), we set out on an adventure.

Our first stop on our journey was Starbucks. Emily got an iced latte and I got a passion fruit tea because it was so hot outside. Next, we went to Paperchase. I need to stay away from Paperchase. I purchased a puzzle eraser, a planner, a red phone booth notepad, and a Kindle case (which I am returning because I don't need it). It's a store full of notepads, stationery, and organizers. I don't need to go there alone. I don't trust myself.

We went to Primark. I came out of Primary a changed woman. That's a beautiful store. I spent a lot of money in there (think of it as English Forever 21), but I have to take some of the stuff back because it didn't fit me.

Then, Emily and I got on the Tube and went to Portobello Market. I got a pair of black pumps for five pounds, a wallet for five pounds, and a bird shirt for ten pounds. That market is awesome.

That evening, Emily and I had dinner at Strada, an Italian restaurant, with Emily's mother. It was delicious. Afterwards, we went to see 39 Steps, which is one of the funniest plays I've ever seen. Also, the lead actor was very attractive. And it was a Hitchcock play, so overall, it was delightful.

Yesterday, I woke up unable to breathe out of my nose. My throat was on fire. I had no appetite. I did a load of laundry and then fell back asleep for several hours. I met up with Emily again outside my dorm. We changed clothes and got ready to go out. On the Tube, the Northern Line was out, so we had to take another route to Picadilly Circus. We had dinner at Planet Hollywood before going to see The Phantom of the Opera.



The Phantom of the Opera means the world to both of us. It is the foundation on which our friendship was built. We've been trying to see it together for a decade. Last night, that dream came true. It was one of the best nights I've had in my life.

I can't believe I only have two more weeks abroad. I want to stay forever. I'm in love with this city.

Day Nine: Wibbly Wobbly

Today was fantastic, absolutely fantastic. And, you know what? So was I.

Although I had to wake up pretty early this morning, I hopped out of bed and immediately started getting ready with a smile on my face. I met a group of girls downstairs. In spite of the early hour, we were eager for our departure. Once we made sure that everyone was present, we left Astor College and walked toward Goodge Street.

My stomach was empty, but my heart was light as we made our way toward the Tube station. Unfortunately, the gates were closed. My heart dropped into my stomach. The girls and I exchanged nervous glances. What were we supposed to do? Luckily, there was an attendant standing just inside the gates. We asked him when the gates were going to open.

“When do they open?” he asked. “Hm, let me think…they open right now! It’s your lucky day, ladies!” And he opened the gates. We all broke out in smiles of relief. It’s nice to encounter someone who has a sense of humor.

We rode the Tube to the train station, purchased our tickets, and boarded the train. As soon as we started moving, everything slowed down. The train chugged along at a leisurely pace. Everyone was quiet—except for our group. I tried to get some work done, but I had a hard time concentrating. Two and a half hours later, we finally arrived.



Cardiff is not a big capital city. I had never considered going there before getting into Doctor Who. Not surprisingly, the Doctor Who Experience is about the only interesting thing in Cardiff. We passed a few restaurants while walking toward the bay, but that was about it. We did go through a neighborhood. We got a bit lost. At one point, our group was standing on a street corner, looking around madly, when a woman on a bike pulled up.

“Are you girls lost?” she asked.

We nodded as one.

She smiled and gave us amazing directions, and we made it to Cardiff Bay and the Experience in no time. The building didn’t look too exciting on the outside. It looked like a giant worm made out of concrete. Inside, however, the magic began.



I’m not sure how to describe the Doctor Who Experience. If I broke it all down, this post would be never-ending. What I will tell you, though, is that it was worth the train ride. It was even worth the train ride back, which was even longer and hotter because there wasn’t air conditioning.

All in all, I’m having the time of my life over here. Each and every day has something new and exciting. I am so blessed to have been given this opportunity. Thanks to everyone for supporting me and helping me get here. I love everyone, especially the people who are reading this post. You have no idea how much your thoughts and prayers are helping.

Day Seven: One Week

Today offered a nice change of pace from the daily grind. I slept in, got dressed, and met up with a few of the girls for a shopping trip. Cynthia, Shannon, Ashley, Heather and I trekked over to Oxford Street in search of new clothes. We could've taken the Tube, but the weather was nice, and we didn't want to waste it.

We popped into Topshop first, but their prices were too high. Also, I couldn't seem to find anything in my size. Next, we headed down the street to H&M, where we ended up spending most of our time. They were having a massive sale. I bought a black skater skirt, an orange top, and a sweater for £18 (about $27), which wasn't too bad. Before heading home, we stopped at Costa to get frozen drinks. They were delicious.

After we returned to the university, we got cleaned up and headed out once again. This time, we went to The Court, our favorite pub. I ordered fish and chips (again). We spent a lot of time at The Court, came back to the university, and hung out until around three in the morning. Absolutely fantastic.

I cannot believe that I've been here for a week. The days are really flying by. I can honestly say that this has been one of the best weeks of my life, and I know this month is only going to get better and better each day. London is a gorgeous city, and I really feel like I fit in here. Most of the cities in America feel violent, scary, claustrophobic. But London isn't like that. People keep to themselves and are, for the most part, quiet. There is a bit of hustle, but it's not too much. People take their time--with the exception of rush hour. In the restaurants, they won't even bring you your check unless you ask for it. It's awesome.

I do love America, I promise I do. It's just that I've never felt this comfortable before. Ironic, isn't it?

London Calling

London calling, yes, I was there, too.

An' you know what they said? Well, some of it was true!

I've been wanting to go to London since I was thirteen. After eight long years of waiting, I finally have the chance. Tomorrow evening, I'll be boarding a plane destined for the United Kingdom. I can hardly believe it.

This trip is going to be all about new experiences. I want to eat, drink, do, and see things that I never have before. I've even made a list! (Maybe one day I'll share it.) I can't wait to see what this trip has in store.

I am a little nervous about being abroad. I'm going to be with people I've never met, and I tend to feel awkward when meeting new people. I'm sure I have nothing to worry about. I know everyone else is nervous about making friends, but I can't shake my anxiety.

Maybe a good night's sleep will help. This time tomorrow, I'll be up in the air!

What should I make sure to do in London? What all do you recommend?

Branching Out

I started this blog because I wanted to document my life while interacting with other people. So far, the only goal I've accomplished is interacting with other people. I wondered if I should branch out with my blog... cover more topics, including personal life stuff. After all, life is short, and sometimes it feels good to get a few things off my chest.

Some exciting things are happening in my life right now:

• studying abroad in London


• applying for jobs and internships


• becoming a cell group leader


• writing professionally


• and a great deal more

I'd like to share this stuff with you.

Anyway, I guess I'm going to write a new post every day. While the subject matter may vary, I can promise you that each post will be most definitely "me." You can share it my failures, successes, and life lessons as I experience them along the way. Hopefully you might even learn a thing or two.

What topics would you like to see covered on this blog?

Commission Rant

So I'm angry and hurt and a little offended right now. I posted my "Elvis and Dolly" piece on a few websites last night, and it got a fairly positive response. That's not the part that bothers me. A few hours later, I got a message from a potential client interested in hiring me for a commission.

In the freelance world, this situation isn't unheard of. In most cases it's a pleasant surprise. I'm always relieved when someone approaches me without me having to pitch an idea to them first. I messaged this man back asking what he had in mind for the price he'd quoted. He messaged me back. It wasn't at all what I expected.

This particular client was offering to pay me an impressive sum of money to collaborate with him in a sexual roleplay scenario. He wanted me to portray the role of Lily, a straight-A student about to graduate from a master's program who is blackmailed by one of her professors. I have never done anything like that before. The fact that this client would even bring such an idea to me is appalling. You see, this request goes a step beyond freelance writing. In this case, he'd be hiring me almost as a phone sex worker.

I'm not saying there's anything wrong with phone sex workers. They're creative, hardworking, and often underappreciated members of society. With that being said, though, it isn't for me. Those services are not at all the kind I aim to advertise. I'm offended because it seems to me that my womanhood is a bigger player in this industry that I anticipated. If I were a man submitting that story, I doubt this particular client would have decided to approach me.

I want to write. My dream is to work for a magazine and write some short stories and novels on the side. I enjoy freelance writing, and the clients I currently work with are such a blessing to me. Yes, I like getting commissioned. Yes, I need the money. But am I willing to compromise my morals and my professional reputation for a few extra dollars? Not at all.

I'm a twenty-year-old woman and a professional writer. Both aspects are a part of my everyday life, but they need not necessarily define me as an individual. I want to do good work. I want to make God, my friends, and my family proud. I don't want to participate in sex roleplays for money.  I want to be treated and respected as a person, an artist, and a working-class citizen.