Happy #ThrowbackThursday! Lauren Layne shares High School memories - get a look at that picture - heh heh
So remember last week when Grace filled you all in on the Stiletto holiday party, and the girls’ less than classy costumes?
Well, let’s just say … the ladies are still hung over, so I’m filling in for this week’s post. :)
Today’s topic? Throwback Thursday. Or, should I say: #ThrowbackThursday or #tbt.
Now, I’m not what one would call a “social media natural.” It still takes me fifteen minutes to write a tweet, because the 140 character limit is just so not my style. And I avoided Facebook for years, because as a private person, posting pictures and status updates for hundreds of people to see felt completely unnatural.
Slowly but surely, I’ve been getting better at it. A little. At least to the point that I know that #TBT = Throwback Thursday, and involves posting something delightfully old-school.
Which has got me thinking … how could I put an author spin on #tbt?
The answer is both brilliant and terrifying, and involves digging up one of those early manuscripts that you swore would never see the light of day.
Yup, you heard that right. I’m dipping my toe into #tbt by taking you back to 2008 and the first contemporary romance I ever wrote.
Its working title was Whatever Happened to Romance, inspired by a Victoria Hart song of the same name. And yes, I did query it, but nobody wanted it. Sniff.
Skimming it now, there are plenty of things I’d change, and I’d like to think that my writ-ing has improved, but it’s also neat to see that my voice has remained pretty constant!
Without further ado, here’s a blast from my aspiring-novelist-past:
Matt broke off in the middle of reading her application for the matchmaking website and looked at her. “Seriously? Did you write this yourself, or is there some sort of desperate women database I don’t know about?”
Claire lifted her chin defensively. “There’s nothing wrong with wanting a little romance.”
“Romance? Or sap?”
She narrowed her eyes. “Call it what you want, but I like the sap. I like dancing, and candlelight and walks on the beach.”
“Dancing?” He looked horrified. “You mean like locked-elbow prom swaying? Or are we talking dirty dancing? No wait, don’t tell me … a cheek-to-cheek waltz to Frank Sinatra?”
“Don’t pretend you don’t like the crooners,” she said, stabbing a cracker in his direction. “I heard you humming ‘The Lady is a Tramp’ yesterday.”
“Believe me, that was purely testament to my present company.”
“Great, so first I’m a prude, then I’m a tramp?”
Matt pretended to think about it. “You’re a prudish tramp.”
“Nice. See, this is exactly why women have to pay to get a decent date. The world is full of workaholic sex fiends like yourself who have trampled all real romance in the world.”
“Wait, so I killed romance? Because let me tell you, I’m not the one paying to get a date.”
Julia stuffed another piece of cheese in her mouth and pretended to ignore him. This conversation veering towards the ridiculous. Talking with Hannah and Kate about her dismal love life was one thing, but spilling her guts to Matt Austin was self-esteem suicide.
He continued skimming the paper, before finally setting it aside with a dramatic sigh and patting the chair next to him. “This application will have every man in the state running for the hills. Let me help.”
Claire snorted. “Help from you would only lead to an itchy crotch.”
“Now now. You’re not going to find any nice man to rub his thumb against your palm or gaze into your eyes with that nasty attitude.”
She stuffed another cheese-covered cracker. She hadn’t realized verbal communication could be exhausting till she met golden boy here. Still, he did have a point. His constant string of women showed he knew at least a little about the dating game.
“Fine,” Claire muttered, dropping into the chair across from him. “Educate me on men. But if it involves wearing underwear that resembles dental floss, I’m soooo out.”
“Oh honey.” He gave her a sympathetic look. “What are we dealing with here? Granny panties? Don’t tell me they’re those ugly beige ones you women wear.”
Claire rubbed her temples. Note to self: go shopping for new lingerie. http://www.romanceatrandom.com/throwback-thursday-first-novel-high-school-memory/#more-19817