Danielle Ward

This excerpt is from the first chapter, which occurs after an initial scene offering backstory into Alicia that includes the following character development: If you could turn a person inside-out, Alicia’s innards would reveal a Willy Wonka-warped world shaped by the books, movies, plays, and musicals she ingested like vitamins. Her white blood cells worked for the White Queen. Her fascia tightened around her muscles thanks to the tiny people of Lilliput. Her bones shared DNA with Poor Yorick. Her heartbeat kept rhythm with the song, “On My Own,” from Les Miz. All of this combined to make an interesting internal life. ***** The liminal space between being a child and becoming a young adult is like floating amid the cosmos without either a working watch or a map of the stars. It helps to have another hand to hold, another to travel with, to problem-solve, to cheer you on and, for Alicia, Leslie was that other. The two became fast friends in sixth grade. “My name’s Leslie Burke.” God bless Leslie Burke for introducing herself at recess to the new transfer student circumnavigating the playground, even though new girl looked as if the FBI employed her to patrol the perimeter. Leslie could have let the girl’s serious face and sunglasses stop her. Others did. They assumed it an act of snobbery instead of a desperate attempt to avoid unfamiliar faces at the lunch tables and a way to protect her sensitive eyes now that she started wearing contacts. “We’re in the same class,” Leslie continued and she jogged to catch up. “You’re good at stating the obvious,” replied Alicia and then immediately wanted to back-handspring back in time. To cover her rudeness, she explained, “At my old school, I used to be the fastest kid in the third, fourth, and fifth grades. Mama warns me against my mind going as fast as my feet. I’m honestly not always good at noticing details.” “Yeah. Bill, my dad, he says my mind makes him dizzy. But I blame Joyce Ann, May Belle, Aaron, Oliver, Brenda, Jessie, and Ellie because they certainly make me feel dizzy.” “That’s a lot of people…” “My brothers and sisters. I am one of eight children of God.” Leslie always explained it that way. “What about you?” “I’m an only child with three siblings,” responded Alicia. She enjoyed letting the non sequitur land, often pausing before offering an explanation. “My parents both remarried and I’m the one they had together. Jane, Lydia, and Andrew are much older, with their own places, their own lives. Don’t ask me why we have a house with so many rooms when it’s only ever me and my parents.” “Maybe I could move in. We sleep on top of each other at my house.” The two shared a smile and, from that day forth, Alicia and Leslie were inseparable. While quiet and shy around others, they felt safe to expose their peculiarities when alone —like how Leslie feared moths and Alicia felt petrified earthquakes or how they both saved their pennies each year to adopt a whale. (Though Leslie wisely knew not to expect the whale to be delivered to her swimming pool.) Two parts of an unshelled peanut. Both slender and pale girls with long mousy brown hair, braces, freckles, and an off-kilter style. Yet, it went deeper than that; a parallel need moved inside their blood. The same longing. Leslie’s large family and Alicia’s devoted parents offered more love than most, still the loneliness, the constant feeling of being an outsider, it grew just the same. It multiplied and it divided, spreading into every cell. Loneliness is a strong glue. Elmer would be out of business if they could ever figure a way to bottle and sell it. Their relationship continued past Lark Creek Elementary and on through middle school. (Though middle school is a whole other book—one of the horror variety—that I am not brave enough to relive here.) The girls continued to grow beyond what their families could hold, growing at the same slow and steady pace. While consistently an inch-and-a-half ahead of Leslie, Alicia hoped to at least push past 64” before high school started. Chances looked slim, however, since she still hovered at the last pencil mark on the doorjamb dated May ’91 and she was already in August. She did continue growing though, just not in the way she recognized. There were her hips, morphing her from genderless pillar into more of a Greek carving of womanhood; her hair on her legs, underarms, and previously naked sex, darkening; and the speedbumps on her chest rising, made noticeable by the automatic cleavage formed from the inherited concave dip in her sternum. Alicia spent so much time in her head, she rarely noticed the southern parts. Only when blood started trickling from between her legs, coupled with a few inconsistent twinges, did she finally recognize the coming cosmic shift. She woke up to it all on August 17 while flipping pancakes. Her first thought: “This changes everything. I have to tell Leslie.” It didn’t matter that the thick sanitary pad she took from her mom’s cabinet felt like a soft brick between her legs. It didn’t matter that, as a sprinter, the mile-long journey to Leslie’s house felt like a marathon, a marathon in 80 degrees weather. It didn’t even matter that she arrived stinking like a wet dog. It was imperative that she talk to her other. When she knocked, Alicia heard a scuffle. Inside, May Belle rushed to be first at the door though the older kids argued against it. Alicia smiled in spite of herself. Leslie’s house reminded her of an ant farm. Whenever Alicia came over for dinner, the ease of the nightly routine impressed her. In this motherless household—Leslie’s mom died right after the birth of Joyce Ann—all of the duties were distributed amongst the kids. Talk about organized chaos. The two oldest girls made dinner, something affordable, usually enlisting the help of the three littles as choppers, stirrers, and table setters. In turn, the eldest brother helped with schoolwork while the other tidied up the toys and magazines. Washing the dishes was Leslie’s responsibility. Each moved in to fill a gap, all in preparation for when their father walked in the door at 5:45, doling out hugs and quiet hellos. Before they all started talk over each other, Alicia thought it odd how Mr. Burke sat at the head of the table, facing the image of the red-robed man at the other end, thanking God instead of his eight kids for dinner. But then, no one said grace in her family, so she unclear on the rules. When Leslie came to stay at the Bennet’s house, she enjoyed the novelty as well. Here, Alicia’s father, Roy, handled the traditional wife roles, including cooking, tidying up, and stacking the dishwasher just so, all while listening to the worries of the world on the TV. While she knew not to say it aloud, Roy seemed to her to worship the newscasters. They were certainly the most prominent thing in an otherwise quite house. Alicia’s job, other than doing her homework, which took priority, included feeding the dog and setting the table whenever her mother strolled in. Ruth came home at various times depending on the after-school extras, bringing home stories of the 350 kids and 15 elementary teachers she shepherded towards becoming their wiser selves. And then, over steak and artichokes or something equally exotic, the conversation inevitably turned to Alicia; her day at school, her extra-curricular activities, her friends, her goals, her dreams, and her plans for successfully achieving all of these. All eyes turned to her, as if studying the inner life of Mona Lisa. Alicia shared many things. Still, like the famous lady, Alicia withheld something behind her enigmatic smile. Leslie answered the door and a grateful Alicia pulled her friend outside, away from the other ears, towards the curb where they could sit together. “Nothing gold can stay,” Alicia said with an air of melodramatic despair. “Oooo-kay, What’s up, Pony Boy?” “Robert Frost actually. S.E. Hinton referenced the poetic line in The Outsiders, but that’s beside the point.” Alicia turned to her friend with a deadly serious look, signaling her to prepare herself. Then she whispered. “I started. It came. I’m…bleeding.” “Really?” Alicia nodded as she cradled her head in her hands. “That’s great. Right? Just in time for high school.” Leslie said, trying to sound positive. “Hey, you aren’t going to make me start in on the ‘I must—I must—I must increase my bust’ exercises, so I can catch up, are you?” “As if I’d take puberty advice from Judy Blume.” Alicia looked panicked as she turned to her friend to say, “Be serious. Leslie, we have to do something. It’s all slipping away.” “What is?” “Childhood. And everything that goes with it…the innocence, the playfulness, the happy-go-lucky freedoms. Soon all of Narnia will be out of reach.” (If this seems like an odd conversation, consider that these two agreed to read a bunch of banned books together this summer because Alicia’s mother said that if they did, she would take them to the library every Saturday. She figured it was a good way to expand their love of literature and keep them out of trouble. Ancient wisdom, perfumed with scents of almond, vanilla, and freshly pressed flowers, adorned the building up to its high ceiling. The library was a sort of church, at least to Alicia. For Leslie, church was church, but the library was also sacred, and, truth be told, it’s where she would have rather been. So, the two had a whole shared vocabulary of characters and their misadventures to riff off of. They even made a game out of quoting a book to see if the other could recognize the source.) Leslie knew better than to try to argue with Alicia’s mood. Instead, she offered some literary wisdom, “One day, you will be old enough to start reading fairytales again.” “That’s from ‘The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe.’ You’re trying to trick me though. That wasn’t even in the actual book. It came from C.S. Lewis’ dedication.” “Still, it’s fitting, isn’t it?” replied Leslie. Alicia responded wryly with, “You don’t get extra points for apropos placement.” The two sat in silence for a moment before Leslie brightened. “We’ll just have to build our own Narnia.” “Our own Narnia? Like…” Alicia was thinking about it, “…like our own corner of the world where we can still just be you and me, no matter what? Ooooh, like in The Secret Garden?” “Or like Terabithia. It’s classic childhood magic, so it’s in tons of books,” Leslie said sounding very astute. “We can’t have it here though. Too many snooping eyes, especially May Belle.” Alicia thought for a moment. “There is that large rock formation on the hill above my house…but I saw a rattler there once and tons of lizards.” “I say the reptiles can keep their spot.” “How about the Christmas tree forest in my backyard?” Since moving into their house, Alicia’s dad planted their holiday trees across the top of the embankment, making for quite a wooded area thirteen years later.

1. THE ACT OF STORY STATEMENT-- develop a simple "story statement." In other words, what's the mission of your protagonist? The goal? What must be done? Alicia falls in and out of books as easily as she falls in and out of love, trying on many characters instead of presenting the world with her real self, all to earn the love of others. On her journey to discover her own story, this oddly ordinary teenager is shaped by peer pressure, surprising sexual desires, and a confusing mixture of emotions. Based on the author’s own experiences in the 1990s, this story explores the delicate inner-workings of how coming-out and coming-of-age intertwine. Each chapter weaves in a selection from a high school reading list such as Pride and Prejudice, The Great Gatsby, Princess Bride, or Crime and Punishment. Alicia clings to such books as her roadmap to self-realization while navigating her parent’s great expectations for her. If only she can stop pretending long enough to discover her true self. 2. SECOND ASSIGNMENT: in 200 words or less, sketch the antagonist or antagonistic force in your story. Keep in mind their goals, their background, and the ways they react to the world about them. There are multiple temporary antagonists in this story, all challenging Alicia to define (or redefine) herself in their eyes. In the first half of the novel bullies, ex-friends, and boyfriends that break her heart push or pull Alicia around like a pinball towards the person they think she is. In the second part, Alicia’s parents—part of an older generation with specific expectations for her bright future and always with her best interest at heart—refuse to accept the young woman she is becoming, especially once she discovers she is bisexual. Alicia is then forced to decide if she is brave enough to break free from the cozy childhood mold her parents made for her. 3. THIRD ASSIGNMENT: create a breakout title (list several options, not more than three, and revisit to edit as needed). Catch Her in the Lie (1st Choice since title plays with a classic title as each chapter does, it speaks to the imaginings she has for life, and also the ultimate lie she must tell her parents in order to continue to foster a relationship with another woman) Figments of Love Falling in… Auditioning for Life 4. Fourth Assignment: Develop two smart comparables for your novel. This is a good opportunity to immerse yourself in your chosen genre. Who compares to you? And why? Catch her in the Lie is an autobiographical fiction coming of age novel that employs various stylistic tones related to Classic literature, but draws contemporary references to Stephen Choboky’s honest and revealing Perks of Being a Wallflower as well as Sara Nisha Adam’s literary-inspired The Reading List. 5. FIFTH ASSIGNMENT: Write your own hook line (logline) with conflict and core wound following the format above. In this autobiographical fiction about coming out while coming of age in the 90s, Alicia searches for herself in books and boyfriends while navigating the emotional obstacle course that is high school. After faceplanting hard for another girl, she discovers she’s been looking for love and acceptance in the wrong place and must now choose between playing the dutiful daughter her parents expect or writing herself a brand-new story. 6. SIXTH ASSIGNMENT: sketch out the conditions for the inner conflict your protagonist will have. Why will they feel in turmoil? Conflicted? Anxious? Sketch out one hypothetical scenario in the story wherein this would be the case--consider the trigger and the reaction. Alicia enjoys a lot of things other kids her age care nothing about. She loves old movies, musical theater, and music from before she was born. Maybe that is why she feels so shy around people her own age. Of course, it doesn’t help that her parents are much older than most and her siblings are grown. She doesn’t have a lot of experience with people her age, specially making friends. Books, on the other hand, are much easier to come by and easier to navigate. With high school serving as a sort of pressure cooker, Alicia battles with being herself or being what others deem attractive, taking on different roles in order to please others, even when that goes against her true self. This inner struggle is first felt in Chapter One when she sees Montag, the first boy she develops a crush on. Wanting him ignites changes in her that hurts her long-time best friend Leslie and sidelines the unique qualities that make Alicia who she is. This turmoil intensifies in Chapter Two when she lands a lead role in the school musical Cabaret opposite Montag. When the two start dating, things spiral out of control as the storylines of the characters they play on stage bleed into their everyday relationship. In an effort to “cut loose” and be sexier on stage, Alicia also lets her sexual exploration with Montag advance beyond her comfort zone. 7. FINAL ASSIGNMENT: sketch out your setting in detail. What makes it interesting enough, scene by scene, to allow for uniqueness and cinema in your narrative and story? Please don't simply repeat what you already have which may well be too quiet. You can change it. That's why you're here! Start now. Imagination is your best friend, and be aggressive with it. While Riverside was big enough to be called a city, it lacked the luster of neon lights and late night anything. The city’s only claim to fame was its hour-long drive to a variety of more desirable destinations: mountains, beaches, deserts, and of course, Hollywood. Movies. Movies were big in Riverside. Especially when the weather warmed up. If residents weren’t exploring the breezy retreat with indoor palm trees and food courts with a buffet of options that is the mall, they opted for indoor picnics with overly-priced popcorn, Coke, and junior mints at the celluloid palace. People living in the Inland Empire were caught in the whir of L.A.’s dream-machine. They shared the same air, gulped the same dirty collection of car exhaust, inhaled the same flecks of dead skin laced with the sweet sweat of a million movie stars. The Hollywood high induced 120-minute dreams in the dark. Perhaps that is how others survived the stagnation year after year. Their minds wandered to a other possible lives though their bodies stayed. Stuck like the smog that lingered, clogging the pores of these poor people. The only reprieve was the Santa Ana wind, but it came with a cost. Santa Ana winds were like something out of Greek Mythology. They came and went as they pleased, very temperamental and all; churning the flames on the mountains that surrounded the city, turning Riverside into a fire-pit. Perhaps Mother Nature wanted to remind the population of her power because during one of summer’s hundred-degree heat spells, the wind inevitably threatened a cocky housing community, one that had crept a little too high on a hill. The sirens sounded and people jumped into their air-conditioned capsules to cram the freeways, windshield wipers fighting the sticky ash as they sped towards somewhere, anywhere else. In order to escape the grey pallor Riverside tended to leave on your skin, the young visited the land of hormones and high drama at school. Although now that I think about it, the make-up helped too. Alicia’s school, unimaginatively called Riverside High, was a middle of the road school unless you were a member of the prestigious International Baccalaureate program. Members of the penultimate AP/IB program, imagined themselves destined for greatness. But how much weight do you give students whose certificate would more appropriately be titled the Intellectual Bullshiter’s Program? The mission was: “Cram them full of noncombustible data, chock them so damned full of 'facts' they feel stuffed, but absolutely 'brilliant' with information. Then they'll feel they're thinking, they'll get a sense of motion without moving. And they'll be happy, because facts of that sort don't change. Don't give them any slippery stuff like philosophy or sociology to tie things up with. That way lies melancholy.”