That’s really a pathetic title, isn’t it? Seriously though, in the wise words of TLC, “I ain’t too proud to beg” for some book sales, and I also thought this fit the style of my books bringing back the nostalgia of the ’80s and ’90s through music and other now dated pieces of pop culture.
Releasing my second book in the Memoirs of an Ordinary Girl series is a pretty big deal to me…you know… because I wrote the book and all. Today is that big day and I want to share it with as many people as possible. And I want you to share it with as many people as possible. So I’m going on tour, virtually. I begged (and possibly blackmailed) a few people to post about me and my book on their blogs through next week. Each day, I’ll link their posts to my blog. I’m also going to host a sort of Facebook release party a few evenings next week. Join if you can. Trick someone else into joining if you can’t. I’ll have some trivia of the times, a few guest authors, and some Q&A moments. It’s a public event on Facebook I’ll be sharing on my author page.
I like to mix the truth with imagination, so this is about one part truth, one part nostalgia, and three parts imagination.
Book Blurb: “It’s just another extraordinarily ordinary year in Drew Hotchner’s world, and one she faces again with wit and sarcasm. Freshman year is the only thing that just might be more horrific and awkward than middle school, and Drew cannot avoid it. Thankfully, she is not alone and still has her support crew of friends, because some things never change, no matter the setting. Old enemies return and new distractions abound, such as a new crush, even while she holds onto the old, the advent of the grunge music movement, helping to plan a wedding, and the creepy neighbor boy down the equally creepy rural road. Drew must again learn to hold her own in the unknown and to stay true to her identity while also learning that doing the right thing is not always the easy thing and may take a degree of maturity a fourteen year old often doesn’t realize she has.”
And here’s an excerpt to whet your Drew Hotchner appetite:
And so It Begins
As the casket slowly lowered down into the grave, tears were dabbed from damp faces with pristine, white tissues, stark against the corresponding black dresses. From my vantage point in class, I could watch entire funerals take place in the cemetery next to, and down the hill from, Florntayor High School. I wondered who these people had been and whom they had left behind. I found myself making up dramatic stories in my head about their lives and tragic deaths. This was the second funeral during this class period within the first two weeks of school. How fitting that it was during my math class, the most dreaded of all subjects for me.
Jolting me from my daydream, a hand reached back and grabbed my left ankle, which I had apparently been jiggling as I had crossed that leg over the other. This proved to be too much temptation for Chip, the huge redneck who sat directly in front of me and asked me out daily. The overgrown senior turned and smirked, not letting go of my ankle. I mouthed silently to him that he better let go, but he just held on tighter and shook his head, his frizzy mullet rustling over his plaid flannel collar and bare, yet Chewbacca-fuzzy shoulders (the flannel sleeves had obviously been ripped off to allow for a more functional summer shirt), so I used my other foot to kick him in the butt, just missing his can of chew. “Ouch!” he howled, drawing attention from Mr. Bunson, my worst nightmare.
“Mr. Dicksen, what seems to be the problem?” Mr. Bunson inquired, peeking over the oblong glasses that had slid down his nose.
“She kick’d me!” Chip whined as he pointed his thumb back my way.
“Is this true, Ms. Hotchner?”
“Only because he grabbed my ankle and wouldn’t let go,” I stated as matter-of-factly as I could.
“There is no reason to resort to violence, young lady,” Bunson reprimanded as he tried to get his lab coat unhooked from something sticking out of the table in the front of the room. This was pre-algebra. Why did he wear that thing anyway? It’s not like we were mad scientists mixing chemicals. We were just trying to solve for x and y, or in my case, trying not to fall asleep. In the very moment he unhooked himself the bell mercifully rang. “You keep your feet to yourself, Ms. Hotchner. Ladies do not kick, and I will not hesitate to write you up if it happens again.”
“But he grabbed my ankle. It was self-preservation. Why doesn’t Mr. Dicksen get in trouble?” I asked, almost a bit too mockingly. Realizing I probably should have kept my mouth shut, I quickly added, “I promise I won’t do it again, if you could just move him away from me. He bothers me every day and I’m afraid he’s hindering my ability to learn.” Maybe I could change my sass to a plea for help. A sort of “Help me, Mr. Bunson; you’re my only hope” type tactic.
“Is that so? I’ll consider that. Do not be as late for your next class now as you were for mine.” Ouch. I had already been late for Mr. Bunson’s class two times in as many weeks, quite possibly coinciding with the days of the funerals, though I could not remember for sure. I had to race all the way across campus after changing from gym class, and I had to stop at my locker because there was nowhere to keep my math book in the locker room, so even though I’d been halfway in the classroom at least one of those times, Mr. Bunson had written me up for being tardy both times. One more tardy would equal after school detention for me. The worst trouble I’d ever been in before was two days kicked off the bus and two weeks of bus probation when I was in middle school, which incidentally, was also an unjust punishment when I had stood up for someone. I could already tell Mr. Bunson did not care for me any more than Mrs. Nelson, my bus driver, cared for me.
I wished I could start this school year over again, maybe with a different schedule, or in an entirely new location. High school was supposed to be better than middle school, but being a freshman sure didn’t feel like a step up. I was content to not stand out in any way for the rest of high school, as I was certain it would be easier to survive that way. For this reason, I was glad my friends and I had chickened out of our original plan to make an impression on our new teachers and fellow students…
To read this book, please stop by Amazon to purchase either the ebook, the print book, or both. The good news is that even though it’s the second book in the series, you don’t need to have read the first to make sense of this one, but you may find you want to anyway, just because it’s awesome.
And if you do, please review
Interested in winning a copy of my ebook? Click the link below.
In my upcoming book Memoirs of an Ordinary Girl: Fresh-meat Year, Drew’s musical tastes have grown and grunge has been unleashed. With each video, I’ve included the excerpt where the song or band is mentioned.
Metallica: Enter Sandman
“My guess was he was just a bit taller than I was, and his dark brown hair hung in his face, covering one of his eyes. He wore a black Metallica tee shirt, so I knew he had good taste in music. We would be a perfect match.”
Jesus Jones: Right Here, Right Now
“In the time it took me that night to do my homework, except for the pre-algebra I was avoiding, and listening to my entire Jesus Jones cassette tape (both sides), Ryan called for my sister seven times.”
Paula Abdul: Rush Rush
“I expressed this theory to Adrienne as I dropped off her books that afternoon and we watched Paula Abdul and Keanu Reeves in her Rebel Without a Cause style video for ‘Rush Rush.’ Somehow we found her to be an acceptable pop artist, and we both drooled over Keanu, just as we had while watching him bring down surfer bank robbers in Point Break.”
Nirvana: Smells Like Teen Spirit
“That evening I was introduced to Nirvana for the first time and their “Smells Like Teen Spirit” video revolutionized our outlooks on pep rallies and helped usher in a whole new style of musical genius to teens everywhere. Soon after, the Bubba-Joes and Allie-Maes of Florntayor weren’t the only ones wearing flannel shirts. Grunge had arrived, and it was wonderful.”
Ozzy Osbourne: No More Tears
Dustin and Adrienne were watching Ozzy’s “No More Tears” video from an old floral couch with wooden trim and threadbare arms.
Billy Ray Cyrus: Achy Breaky Heart (hahahahaha!)
“That was Chip Dicksen, the redneck senior in my math class who thinks grabbing my ankle is a turn on.”
“You better watch out. With that mullet, he’s likely to sing ‘Achy Breaky Heart’ to you.” I simply rolled my eyes in response.
Red Hot Chili Peppers: Under the Bridge
While Anne and I happily watched Anthony Keidis running and running in the “Under the Bridge” video, Mona and Violet’s minion Julia came sauntering in our direction.
I spied a black Soundgarden shirt draped over his desk chair, which I picked up and flung at him. “I’m going to need you to put this on,” I said as I lowered my backpack from my shoulders, untangling my hair from the upper loop.
Firehouse: Love of a Lifetime
“It’s a mystery,” she replied, shaking her head sympathetically. “But they danced to ‘Love of a Lifetime,’ so they’re probably going out now. I saw them together earlier.”
Guns N Roses: Don’t Cry
We managed to escape the world where parents mattered while attempting to rescue Princess Toadstool, later known as Princess Peach, in Dustin’s attic bedroom. Guns N’ Roses blared from the stereo. We stopped between levels as “Don’t Cry” came on. “I love this song. I know it’s a released song and everyone knows it and all, but it’s still one of my favorites on this album,” Dustin admitted, and we listened without speaking, all the way until Axl Rose held out the final note, his voice wavering up and down, and then we resumed the game until Adrienne’s mom showed up.
Jane’s Addiction: Been Caught Stealing
“Ugh. Now I have to find another date,” I replied.
“No way. She’s got Jane’s Addiction concert tickets that night. Besides, Angela didn’t think I could get a real date, so the gauntlet has been thrown down, in a matter of speaking.”
Pearl Jam: Alive
The great debates of our lives became whether or not Adrienne and I were going to torture ourselves by not only attending the upcoming homecoming game but the dance as well, whether Nirvana or Pearl Jam was better, and whether or not Dustin liked me. We were currently undecided on all fronts.
Bryan Adams: Everything I Do
For the rest of the night some poetry was recited by a mousy junior girl and Bryan Adams’s “Everything I Do” was sung a cappella, and badly, by a senior who was using it as a means to ask a girl to prom. She said yes and with tears in her eyes, which were obviously there for different reasons than the tears I had in my eyes after the performance.
Sex Pistols: God Save the Queen
“Do you think they’ll have Sid and Nancy: Love Kills?” Adrienne had taken an interest in British punk music as of late, and had written “God Save the Queen” and “Sex Pistols” on all her notebooks.
Guns N Roses: Patience
He played the usual “Electric Slide” type torture after the first bride and groom and father and daughter dances, but he had brought along a selection that Dustin and I enjoyed as well, including Guns N’ Roses’ “Patience,” which became our slow dance for the evening.
The Doors: Riders on the Storm
We both sat without speaking for what felt like eternity, but I knew was only about thirty seconds because we only covered a short stretch of the drive home in that time and we didn’t make it past the beginning of The Doors’ “Riders on the Storm.”
I love reliving my youth through the music that shaped it, and I think Drew would too. Hopefully you relived yours a bit as well. The book will be unleashed tomorrow at http://bit.ly/tlklaes