Okay, this is nuts, but I’m gonna do this. Starting today, I’m going to post daily pieces of my novel Pulled until the whole book is on the blog. This should time out with the release of Pulled Back (da sequel to Pulled). This is an experiment in all things bloggy and marketing so of course it may fall flat on it’s face, but I’m doing it anyway, because I am a mover and shaker. (okay not really, but I can try). We could do discussions with da author (that’s me) about each section I post, like if you have questions or something. The formatting sucks because it’s a blog and not a word doc, but I think it’s still readable.
Fridays I will post my normal bloggy stuff, so if you like my blog and don’t WANT to read Pulled again (or ever) then just tune in on Fridays. m’kay?
Here we go, your first Daily Dose of Pulled.
My only love sprung from my only hate!
Too early seen unknown, and known too late!
Prodigious birth of love it is to me
That I must love a loathèd enemy.
Romeo & Juliet Act 1, scene 5
My heart is fluttering as I walk toward the brick building that will house the majority of my four years of college: Stanley Hall. Even though I’ve seen the building a million times on-line, seeing it in person leaves me breathless. I actually have stop in mid-stride to take in its beauty. The worn red brick coupled with crisp New England charm make the theatre complex nothing short of intimidating.
Tucking a stray strand of my too-straight, too-black hair behind my ear, I take a nerve calming sip of my coffee mug and march toward the door, determined to not let my fear of not measuring up get the best of me.
“You made me give up Florida State for this?” a voice whispers in my ear.
I just about jump out of my skin. “Seth! You scared me!” I scream, punching him lightly on the arm.
“You know it’s not nice to hit,” he says, pleased with himself.
“Sorry. I’m just a little…intimidated at the moment,” I say, tucking that same damn strand of hair behind my ear again.
Seth just laughs at me. He takes my chin in his hand, forcing me to look at him. “Hey, remember what my dad says. ‘Never let them see you sweat,’” he says before he pulls me in close to his chest.
“Right,” I say, putting on a brave face. Seth hates to see weakness in people. Especially in me. “I should go.”
I push him away gently and turn toward the theatre and take my first tentative steps before I am struck by a thought. I turn around and find Seth still there, smirking at me.
“What are you doing here anyway? You don’t have any classes today.”
“I know,” he grins. “I just wanted to see my girl before her first class.”
Or check up on me, I can’t help but think, but I smile, because a smile is what he expects.
“You’ll meet me for lunch and tell me all about it,” he says, before he presses his cool lips to mine. I nod in understanding before he lets my hand go.
I watch him disappear down the hill toward his dorm before I turn back to my face my current nemesis.
Here goes nothing.
As soon as I walk into the building, any courage I had managed to build up disappears and I am overcome with childish jitters. Nervously, I pull out my schedule, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible, to look again at the room number of my first class: 111. Honestly, Naya, how hard is that to remember?
Casually glancing up at the doors as I walk past, I notice that the numbers are climbing up; I’m heading in the right direction. When I round the corner at the end of the hallway, I find it. ‘Movement for the Actor.’ Butterflies fill my stomach. Squaring my shoulders, I steady myself and walk through the door.
A quick survey of the room reveals nothing overtly intimidating. It’s just a large, open space. In the corner there is an area set up with chairs and a movable white board. Along the back wall are his and her bathrooms. The opposite side of the room is lined with floor-to-ceiling mirrors. Aside from that, the room is completely empty.
Great. Not only am I a freshman with no friends (because let’s face it, boyfriends shouldn’t count), I am also that girl: the one who is always early, eager, and ready to learn.
Dragging my much-too-prompt feet toward the chairs, I plop down in the back row and pull out my tattered copy of Romeo & Juliet from my backpack to create the illusion of being ‘otherwise engaged.’ It’s my favorite play, and not because of their ridiculous, unrealistic love affair. It’s Shakespeare’s use of poetic irony that is simply priceless: just when you find Mr. Right, death comes knocking. It’s perfect. But then maybe, just maybe, I’m a little bitter and the subjects of love and death are still too raw for me. Maybe.
Opening to where I had dog-eared my page, I settle deeper into my chair. I’m just about to dive into Act Two, when he walks in.
That’s it for today. Tune in tomorrow to find out what happens next. Any thoughts/questions?