July 26th, 2008
I’ve had an e-mail from one of my fabulous readers asking me about something I’ve been struggling with myself since I started writing Scars, so I thought I’d share my thoughts on the subject with everyone so there are no surprises.
July 8th, 2008
He seemed to take his time, mulling over exactly what it was he wanted to say. I waited as patiently as I could, but it was difficult. A million questions raced through my mind, all of them things I’d want to know if I were him. On top of that, though, I had so many questions of my own to ask, so many things I wanted to know about him, now that we were communicating a bit better. But I knew my questions would have to wait. He’d earned the right to go first by not telling me I was a liar and a bitch and slamming down the phone.
July 3rd, 2008
Olivia didn’t say anything until we were safely sequestered in my flat a short time later. She’d let me cry without interfering, without telling me I’d done the right thing, without a word, and I appreciated it. The truth was, I didn’t know what to say, and I think she sensed that.
But her silence didn’t last. She was fuming, and couldn’t keep it to herself any longer.
June 29th, 2008
“Well, that’s done,” ‘Liv said as we stopped at the side of the tent, out of view of most of the other guests. Orlando was nowhere to be seen. There were a few other people near us, all lighting up cigarettes, but they weren’t paying any attention.
“Olivia, I have something I need to tell you,” I hissed, trying to be as quiet as possible. I suspected that if Orlando heard my voice, he’d know who I was instantly. It’s kind of hard to forget the voice that told you off only the night before.
May 31st, 2008
Though I hadn’t slept much through the night, I awoke the next morning with a surprising amount of energy. The adrenaline that pumped through my system as I showered and did my make-up kept me from feeling tired, as I knew I should be. I was almost thankful for the train wreck that my mother’s wedding was sure to be, just because it was a distraction from the aching pain that ripped through me every time I recalled my conversation with Orlando. Who knew such a disaster could be a good thing?
I was just dumping the last of my coffee down the drain and making sure I had everything I needed in my new purse, when Olivia strode into my flat as though she owned it.
May 12th, 2008
Well, it’s been about 2 weeks since I sprained my hand, and I’ve since been in a minor car accident that took me off work for 4 days, and have had quite a few of my regular days off as well. So why hasn’t there been an update?
Two words: Writers’ Block.
April 8th, 2008
Olivia and I managed to compromise on my hair, allowing me to keep part of it down, while the rest was up on my head. She showed me how to section off the top, twist it once to create a small bubble on top of my head, and pin it, with the rest hanging down. It was elegant and simple, yet it suited a wedding, and it went with my dress. I even allowed her to trim the ends so it didn’t look so dead.
I practiced putting on the make-up every day leading up to the wedding. My first few tries were disastrous, and I ended up resembling the circus clown I was afraid of, but after that, with some tips from Olivia, I seemed to get the hang of it. When I finally got it to the point where I wouldn’t be embarrassed to wear it in public, I just stared at myself in my new bathroom mirror (Olivia’s gift to me), unable to believe that I actually wanted to see what I looked like. I couldn’t keep my gaze from the twisted flesh on the left side of my neck, but even that didn’t seem to bother me as much as it used to.
April 5th, 2008
I just realized that I’m almost 2 weeks late with the next Scars update, and I wanted to apologize for that. I’ve been working like crazy (as per usual lately), and time has been literally flying by. I thought I posted last Saturday, but I guess I didn’t. It’s crazy how I lose track of time like this!
March 24th, 2008
I wasn’t surprised to see Olivia on my doorstep at quarter to twelve the next morning. She was chronically early, and of course, since I’d been dreading this little outing, she wouldn’t disappoint me by being late. I sighed as I let her inside.
“I have a game plan for us,” she announced, striding into my living room as I dumped the remainder of my coffee down the drain. I didn’t figure she’d give me enough time to finish it.
“I bet you do,” I said, grabbing my purse off the kitchen counter. “You’re probably planning to drag me all over Hell’s creation today, aren’t you?”