Monday, November 18, 2013

Welcome, Heather Vogel Frederick!

 Jane here, and this is inspired by Megan Wong in book 4 where she starts a blog as Fashtionista Jane!!!!
You've got me all toungue tied. What's a girl to do when her favorite author might be reading?
  So I felt really stupid when i realized you don't give critiques, so i'm so sorry for sending you that message!
Anyway, it's nice to know that an author will read your writing.
    I hope you will stay tuned for more stories and posts!
Oh, and I just finished reading 'Home for the Holidays,' and decided to actually look up Delos Lovelace. It turns out that my thoughts of Zach Norton were totally different! I also did some research on Jane Austen. It's really cool how I actually found the picture Megan 'used' for her picture of herself on her blog. I have it on a post below this. So I found myself doing some research on all of your books, basically. I have to say that it was fun looking up things said in books and finding them.

              I can only hope that this blog will be as humorous and popular as Megan's was- except hers was popular and humorous for( As Wolfgang said it)'too much snarky and not enough sweet.'
 I hope you don't mind me using so many refereances to your books. It's just that i'm like Emma Hawthrone(Uggh! Here I go AGAIN!!), she thinks through books.
       Well, I guess that's all for now. It would be so cool if you could release another book, or even one from the mothers' perspective! Good luck on your new book.
                                                                                                    - Jane
 There's a picture I found that I thought was so good and accurate!
Another genius pic:
 
  I always pictured Darcy to look just like Emma.

So could I get some reccomendations?

 Okay- so, as I said before: I LOVE to write, read, and say words. So this might sound weird, but does anyone know any really good books that they like? I'm not really into sci-fi or gore.
 So, I know no one's reading this, and I decided I should have a notebook all to myself( This is a reference to Emma Hawthrone in the MDBC series)--just for jotting down ideas. I read in a book once ( Book 4 of The Mother Daughter Book Club, by Heather Vogel  Frederick) that ideas are like stray cats- the come at the most unexpected times and if you don't take care of them and give them attention they'll just, well, go away.
   Well, i'm bursting with stray cats and haven't gotten a notebook. So therefore for now, this is my notebook.
My ideas:
1. Reveal more on Natalie's mom's persona( sparkly, bubbly, dazzly, flashy, just like Miss Jasmine)
2. The rivalry between Natalie's mom and Bonnie's mom needs to come to a truce at some point of the story- then needs to be broken again
3. Could i write a letter to Heather Vogel Frederick to get some pointers?
4. Write more poems.....I need inspiration
5. Think of using more details in looks
 Thanks for listening to boring self-notes. I really appreciate it.

P.S.
Heather Vogel Frederick? I know you might be reading this- and so I will add the next part of the story below so you can also give me some pointers on this next part:
I tried my best to get back up, and tried the step again.
Jerk and bend and jerk and right, arms over, and backbend
I manage to get every step, but the backbend went down too quickly.
I’m gonna have to learn a lot  in 5 months.
                          Bonnie
People say that me and my mom are like Laverne and Shirley. Which is true.  Aside from Nat and a couple of old friends from Long Island, Mom is the best. Her name is Lindsey, but of course I would never call her that.  The honk of a New York cab driver snaps me out of my wandering thoughts. My mom apologizes cheerily as he zooms near us, hollers something at us for jaywalking(when the sign is red), and smiles at me as we run across the street. My mom has brown hair, pale skin, and brown eyes. Her cheeks are pink because of the wintery wind that’s beating against us. We laugh as we run, her gloved hand against mine. Her high heel boots tap the cement sidewalk as my Uggs thump. We finally reach the store, and we double over with laughter. We both wheeze and gasp for air, and when we’re done, my mom crooks my hand into her elbow and we walk into a store.  My wind-blown red hair is bouncing against my shoulders, and it bobs up and down vigorously as I run toward the high heel section and try one pair on, then display my feet to my mom. She shakes her head, but laughs.  She finds herself a soft gray pair of winter boots, while I find some bright red combats that make me feel like a clown. I kind of liked the style and color, though.  Now onto clothes. My mom prods me to wear a ‘poke-your-eyeballs-out pink shirt/dress that goes down just below my knees, but  I refuse. Poke-out-yours-eyeballs-pink is what I call shades of pink that would look horrible with my hair: it would make me look too flashy. I spot a faux fur white sleeveless vest  that would go perfect with the sleek magenta longsleeve shirt I have at home, but when I check the pricetag I practically shriek.
‘’ FIFTY-SEVEN DOLLARS!!”
My mom shoots me another sharp glance, and points her finger to her lips. She’s not mad.
‘’ Not happening.’’
I grin sheepishly.
‘’Sorry,’’ I say, failing to put the vest back on the rack correctly, so all of it falls. I see a store clerk looking at me sharply. She has poofed up old lady hair, and I whip around fast enough so my mom can see that she’s approaching.  I hear a phone turn on, then I hear a small amount of air being sucked up. That’s not my mom.She’s never worried, afraid, or mad.I glance back at the lady, then burst out giggling when I see her closely. She obviously can’t apply makeup. My mom has already started to make a run for it, and I quickly follow her.
‘’Bonnie,  you need to stop getting us in trouble.’’ She has a small, miniscule twinkle in her eye though. She sounds exasperated. I squint at her. She’s NEVER—and I mean never—been exasperated with me. Something’s up……
‘’Sorry,’’ I repeat, without the sheepish grin. I puzzle for the rest of the time over what could be different. I review past events in my head.
First. Cab driver event : Mom = happy
Next: Expensive  vest: Mom = Still happy but not wanting to get in trouble.
Last: Old lady hears me drop everything : Mom = mad mad mad
    What could be wrong?  There was nothing  I could do about my mom being mad. I couldn’t be Super-Bonnie if Super-Bonnie didn’t even have a problem to solve…  So we spent the rest of the night with a small wedge between us that I couldn’t stand to face.. The more ways I thought of pushing the wedge over, the more afraid I got. Had I noticed Mom was mad for a bad reason? What if now that I knew I wouldn’t stop obsessing over it?
 It’s always been that way: Mom and Bonnie, partners in crime. But this time the familiar phrase just doesn’t ring true.
 That night I laid awake at night, thinking of what could happen. All of a sudden I hear a door slam.  I close my eyes as someone steps into my room. A familiar someone, with almost no hair and spectacles. One spectacle with a crack- but perfect otherwise. It’s Daddy.
He whispers a prayer in my ear, the familiar one about me being precious and hoping for it to stay that way. When he’s done, he kisses my forehead. With a pang, everything comes to me. It all makes sense. tears come to my eyes and I came help but let them flow. My dad doesn’t suspect a thing.
‘’Aw, Bonnie, just like when you were my little baby. Crying in your sleep.’’ He picks up my head and puts it in his arms. I lay against him until I fall asleep, and he leaves.
                 But I couldn’t sleep. It all made sense. The slammed door. The cell phone. I lay on my side, reviewing past days.
‘’ You’re wasting our money, Arnold!’’ My mom would holler. My dad would holler something I couldn’t make out.  Wasting our money on WHAT??
It was like that for many nights. The cell phone. It was my dad, texting my mom.
Not saying I love you and I’ll see you soon.
Tears sting. What if they get a divorce? As usual, my parents interrupted my thoughts.
‘’ Lindsey I lost my job,’’ My dad said in his normally deep, soothing ,voice. Now it was shaky and didn’t give me confidence that ‘everything’d be alright’.
I couldn’t bear it. I cried more. How could I not. All of a sudden, I was interested in my mom’s argument. I went near my door, and pressed my ear against the door.
‘’ Oh, oh Arnold,’’ My mom said. I couldn’t listen. I couldn’t. I couldn’t. What do you do when your partner in crime has problems of their own? Is it normal to feel like  everything’s NOT gonna be alright? I drifted into an uncomfortable, insecure,  sad, longing sleep.

 I sulk to school, but I don’t want my mom to know how I’d heard. One say of it and my mom’s whole face shape changed. She’s alwaysed looked like she’s twinkling, but today she looks like if you say something too loud, she’ll break. That’s just not my mom. That’s not Mom.
‘’Bye, Honey,’’ My mother says, holding two fingers out to start our handshake out. But I don’t feel like  doing the handshake. My mom looks hurt, but I waggle my fingers at her without a backwards glance.  She drives off anyway, and with a pang I wished I’d said goodbye. Too late now.
       I crane my neck over a couple of other people to search for Natasha. I squeeze into a crowd, then while I get pushed on the floor by a jock ( oh this isn’t the last he’s seen of THIS little sixth grader) I see her pink ballet flats. I glare up at the jock, jab my pointy elbow into his stomach as far into it as It can go, and I walk away with my head high.
‘’ Mrs. O’ Neil! Mrs. O’ Neil!’’ The jock says, looking absolutely perfect.
‘’Yes, Thomas,’’
Thomas. I needed to remember that name. Nobody pushes Bernadette around.
‘’ She hurt me,’’ I don’t giggle but I try my hardest not to. He sounds like a whiney first grader.
I widen my eyes to  make them look as big and adorable as possible.
‘’ Now Thomas Adams, what could this little darling do to hurt you? I’m ashamed that you tried to get her in trouble.’’ She scolds, walking off.
 I think of looking at him triumphantly, but he looks mad. I could be in serious hot water.
‘’I’m sorry,’’ I manage to say quietly.
He softens, and even lets out a chuckle. ‘’Little 6th grader,’’ He says, chuckling. He gives me a playful slap on the back of my head. Now I could give him my triumphant glare. I give it to him, then stick my nose a little higher in the air and walk off fast before he can hurt me.
‘’Woah, Bonnie, what happened back there?” Natasha asks me as I finally am near her. She eyes the jock—Thomas Adams—up and down.
‘’ Well, he shoved me, so I put my elbow into his stomach and he got mad and tattle-taled on me. I got out of it fast,’’ I say, shaking and still scared of the eighth grader on the inside.
‘’ You’re so brave, Bonnie!”
I think back about last night…no I’m not. But I smile and shrug instead. Should I tell Natasha? Hmm…..
                       Natasha
                 I looked at Bonnie closely. What was the matter with her? It was only 10:35 and she changed completely. She refused to dance or even talk. She wouldn’t budge.
‘’ Come on, Bonnie, what’s the matter?”
No reply.
‘’Bonnnieeeeeeee.’’ I whine.  Where was the sparkly, bubbly, excited girl who I had met not too long ago? Maybe I have a way to cheer her up. I got my lunchbox (well, I made several attempts. I had to try many times not to get squashed by the people. My final way was sticking to the wall. No one stayed by the wall. ) and pulled out a yellow envelope with a bunch of flowers on it.
‘’Here you go. My eleventh birthday is coming up and I thought you’d might want to come. It’s on the fourteenth of November.’’
I hand her the envelope, expecting Bonnie to light up and explode in her excited way of exploding about things. Instead, she blandly put the envelope in her lunchbox.
It was this way almost all lunch. On the fortieth time  I asked her, she looked at me and really hollered, ‘’I’m okay, already! Would you quit asking me? It’s none of your business, nosey! STAY IN YOUR LIFE, NOT MINE, OKAY?!”
                      I take steps back, stung. A couple of people were looking at me and Bonnie. I glared at all of them and found my way near a crowd. Unfortunately, the crowd was quite annoying. This one was a seventh grade group of girly girls. I’m a girly-girl, too, but I don’t draw attention to myself on purpose. They were talking about some boy named Bradien Smith and another one named Thomas Adams. Thomas Adams, where had I heard that name? I didn’t care- but I did. I hate it when I can’t quite put my finger on something.  They start talking about some reality TV show I’ve never heard of, and it gets to the point that I can’t bear it anymore.
I turn around, facing the street. Cars zoom by, making my hair fly and my skirt lift up a little. I anxiously cover it.
     Lunch was the hardest. I wasn’t sitting next to Bonnie. I wasn’t like that. There were NO empty seats though. This was completely different from  my old school.  So I finally found a place to put my tray: on the window seat of the girls’ bathroom. It was disgusting and I knew I probably wasn’t allowed to eat in there, but I threw out all my food when I was done and didn’t leave a trace. But when I was done I didn’t feel like leaving yet: what was the point? All that would happen was that I’d get snubbed by other students who had friends to sit next to. I look out the window. I should’ve known Bonnie would just be mean to me..or was that just sadness talking? Even if it was, sadness could be rude sometimes in my opinion.
              So for the next 15 minutes I puzzled over what made Bonnie  so mad…or sad? I was confused. I hadn’t done ANYTHING to hurt her in any way, so why was she so rude?
 But I wasn’t about to ask her.
School soon passed, and luckily there wasn’t dance today. If I had to face Bonnie again it would be too soon. When I finished all my homework it was around 5:00, so I went straight up to my room. It was small, and I sat on my bed staring out the window. I saw the sun slowly hide behind the trees, then I saw the moon rise, and then I saw stars appear.
        I stared out, as the saying about stars being like friends comes to my mind.  My mind quickly wanders to Bonnie, and I rack my brain to get any thoughts of her out, but it’s hard. It’s already time for her to come to my mind. I sigh wearily. I tackle her in my mind, unwrapping her arms from around me in a headlock as she screams out something at me.
HOLD IT.
 Bonnie isn’t like that…..what am I thinking? She’s just moody. I hit my ear to get her out of my mind, but it’s impossible.  Bonnie seemed to be my best friend, but obviously the feeling wasn’t double sided because she said for me to get out of her life.
Who could I ask for help? My mom? No. She was unreliable….she was my mom—well yeah—but she wasn’t the best for advice. The person on the other side was always right. So I decided to ask mom if I could go to the dance studio—dancing always helps me cool off, and the studio’s always open.
‘’ Sure, if you want. I’ll take you in ten minutes but right now you need to eat lunch.’’
‘’Sure, ‘’ I say, going to the table.

          Natalie
      We  stand outside of some random girl’s door with a gift basket.  Actually, my mom stands. I hide under bushes. I tug on my wavy blonde hair.
‘’ Mo—om!”
She whips around, lighting fast. Her blonde hair swings behind her. It’s lighter, more of a golden shade than my dirty blonde hair that’s curly. Her’s is  curled at the tips unnaturally .
Why does my mom have to be so friendly?
My tanned arms wriggle to get behind the bush so the lady answering the door doesn’t see me.  A woman with brown hair, and pale skin. She reminds me of this girl in my class- Vonnie, Connie?
My mom flashes her glittering smile, and the lady looks a little scared. In fact, she looks weary, but pretty. Like a piece of dirty laundry compared to my vibrant twinkly mom. I sense a bit of competition.
‘’ Well He-LLO, Jay! I heard you moved into the neighborhood.’’
My mom freezes, stricken. Who had been talking about her behind her back? This posture doesn’t last long. She straightens as if someone whacked her with a ruler on her back. With another smile, she hands the gift basket to the woman.
‘’ And I heard that…’’ My mother trails off.  Something happened to this LADY? That explains her worn appearance.
Now it’s this lady—name?—‘s turn to freeze. My mom flips her hair. ‘’ Have a nice. Day.’’
She whips around triumphantly with another poisonous smile at ‘Miss Lindsey.’ I had finally learned her name. Why’d my mom do that?
‘’ Do you know eachother?” I ask, staring up at my mother.
‘’Mhm.’’ My mom mumbles.
    So we hopped back in the car, an irritated-mom mood hovering in the air in the car. Uh oh.   This is never good. My green blue eyes flicker over the windshield to see that we’ve just ran a red light. Unfortunately, there was a cop right near us.
‘’ Ma’m, you just ran that light.’’
‘’ Yes’ir, I know.’’ She lowers her head, probably expecting a ticket for a LOT of money.
The officer clears his throat. ‘’I’ll let you off this time, ma’m. But the next time..’ He tries to keep his straight police officer face but he chuckles instead, walking off. My mom’s shaky hands grip the wheel and I smile.

‘’Wow, mom.’’