As I was writing Snooty and the Book Cover, I found that Brittany aka Sarah was growing on me. She possesses more than a few quirks and I thought it might be fun to see where she goes. If you like what follows, please let me know. If you think it stinks and I should come up with a different next serial, let me know that too.
As always, I appreciate your reading as I hope you know that I write these serials as much to hopefully entertain you as me. Thanks! SD
Once upon a time . . . oh? You’ve heard this one before. Nah. Think again.
But it’s true, we’ve met. My name is Sarah and I’m a refugee from a writer’s retreat in Virginia Beach, or a little piece of it south of the main drag named Sandbridge.
My new best friend, Calista Montgomery, just moved to Virginia Beach. It can have that effect on non-type A personalities. Being part of a southern beach town makes you want to slow things down, find a new you, and sometimes re-evaluate all of the things you thought were important.
Callie and I are a lot alike, although a couple of months ago if you’d put that suggestion to her, she would have no doubt thought you were from planet Quaalude.
When I attended the writer’s retreat, I made the decision to be someone else, not myself, because I had gotten into a rut and didn’t really like me anymore. Funny, all brazen, forward, and bumbling at the writer’s retreat, I found I didn’t like me much there either. So when I returned home, I decided that there had to be a middle ground.
I’m still searching. Want to join me? I’m thinking of calling it “The Searches of Sarah” or “Sarah Survives” or “Sarah’s Stumbling Quest for Answers” but I don’t like that last one because I am all about the alliteration.
My best bestie, Josh, thinks I should call it, “Sarah Smile.” Yeah, I agree. That’s just a little too saccharine for me, especially after I just saw the sweetness that was Callie and Steve. But I keep Josh around because he’s my foil. He’s the sugar to my vinegar, the rational to my caprice, the slowdown to my throwing myself out in front of a speeding DC SUV. (It’s DC, sometimes you don’t need to throw yourself, they find you.)
(Okay, between you and me, I loved Callie and Steve getting together and was the teeniest bit jealous. They fit though. It’s tough to find that. Some people never find it and I’m beginning to think I’m one of them. It’s all hard because no woman ever wants to come off as desperately hearing the old ticking clock. So I don’t have a clock in my house. Not one. If I get desperate (that word again!), I can look at my cell.)
Josh is trying to look over my shoulder as I type.
“What? You stopped reading what you were typing,” he says.
“Because I was writing about you.”
“Because you’re part of my story: for better or worse.”
“Then let me read it.”
“Later,” I say. “Don’t you have to go be a bartender?”
He glances at his watch. (Yes, if I’m desperate for the time, I could always ask Josh. Hmm, maybe I should tell you this: when we were in high school together, we made one of those stupid pacts that if we were both single by the time we hit 33 we would have a kid together. That time is getting a little too close for comfort. I love Josh, I just don’t love Josh. And a kid? Me? Right now? Lightning strike me now!)
“You be good,” he says, leans down and kisses me on the temple.
“You don’t. You be as bad as you wanna be,” I say, knowing that will never happen. I don’t think he has a bad bone in his body. But if these women keep kicking him around the way they do, he might end up with one. Then I might have to take some revenge on these not too clever women. Botox in their lip gloss so they can’t duck lip their selfies? Heh.
This has gotten away from me. Maybe I should write an outline. But should that come before or after the title? Hell if I know. I shouldn’t have been looking at the boys so much when I attended those writing seminars…or the retreat. Ah, the retreat. Is that Virginia Beach calling? Nope. Callie’s ringtone.