Six Sentence Sunday


Here are 6 sentences from a new scene I added to my first book, Outside In. Alexis’s mother has come to visit her at boarding school.

“She looked around the room again, checking for God knew what. Hidden boys? Hidden bad grades? She paced around again, and opened the middle drawer of my dresser. Oh. She’d done that before—glad I’d double-checked the folding and arrangement of the clothes.”

Six Sentence Sunday, 1/27/13

I haven’t been blogging recently, so what’s the easiest way to get back into posting? Post six sentences I wrote a long time ago, and hope that constitutes a post.

These six are from my first manuscript, Outside In. Alexis goes into her ex-boyfriend’s room at boarding school.

dorm room

Being in his room transported me back into the world of our relationship. I walked unsteadily over to his bureau and stroked his comb, his tissue box, and his change. I picked up a quarter, rubbed it, and shoved it into my pocket. I stumbled over to his bed and lay down with my head on his pillow. His pillow smelled like him, musty and a little sour, precious anyway. God, I’d loved him.

Six Sentence Sunday, 9/23/12

Six sentences from my current WIP:

Rachael stared four rows over and one row up at her friend Katie, but couldn’t get her attention. Katie was writing super-fast in her notebook, probably composing a letter about global warming to the president or something. Whatever she was doing, she was totally into it, pulling a curl around her index finger so tightly that Rachael worried she’d break the pinkish strands. Unless Rachael stood on her head naked and yelled out Katie’s name, there was no way she could pull her out of her Katie bubble.

Rachael sighed. No Katie distraction today.

Six Sentence Sunday: A Journal Entry

WRITING PROMPT: Write about tomorrow.

By the time I’m writing this

Today is tomorrow.

Its face hasn’t settled in yet.

Woke up with inspiration

On my face

Jotting down words on paper

And writing them in cursive

On the shower door.

Next my face matches the mist

And I’m driving to church, hoping

For selfishness

To abate.

Next the face

Is downcast

As I steal a nap

To bury the loneliness.


I’m writing,

And the face brightens –

Cling to this face

For it’s as temporary

As the day itself.

Six Sentence Sunday 7/8/12

Some poetry, this time- NIGHT TIME

Night time

At my in-laws’ window.

Gone downstairs

Away from everything

To hide and think

And maybe cry.

No lights

So no one would know

I was even there.

Without lights

Everything’s in shadow

And cast into eerie molds

With ghostly pieces.

I find the loveseat

And sink in

Although it’s for show

And uncomfortable.

Head in my hands

Looking at the trickling snow

Thinking, thinking,

Watching the shadows

Gain substance

As my eyes attune themselves

As my thoughts

Become concrete

And I can

Return to bed

More substantial than before.

Six Sentence Sunday 6/10/12

This is from a new story, maybe 1,000 words written  so far.

Izzy and Matt slouched against her locker, him leaning on her, pressing her arms at her sides, kissing her hard enough that they were the only ones in the hallway or maybe the school. Izzy’s torso crumpled in but she didn’t care—Matt’s weight rebuilt her, and if her hair got messed up, so much the better. It gave her that loved/smeared look she wore like a crown. Matt’s girlfriend. Matt’s skin and lips and hair and legs.

The bell rang and they unhooked from each other.

Six Sentence Sunday 4/22/12

From my finished (!) contemporary YA, Outside In, a Christmas moment:

“From my mom, pajama pants and sweatpants for her lazy, chubby failure of a daughter. And a Moleskine notebook, maybe so I’d take even more notes in class.

Courtney got piles of Ann Taylor sweaters, size two. I knew they’d fit her exactly, because everything always did. Sweatpants vs. clingy sweaters—kind of obvious what my mother thought of us. I slumped off to put my presents in my suitcase.”

Six Sentence Sunday 4/8/12

Here’s six sentences from a new novel I’m drafting. In a school play, Rachael is playing the part of Elizabeth, a timid bullied girl, and is trying on the character during the normal school day.

“She focused on Elizabeth and in a moment she was Elizabeth. Elizabeth, not Rachael, looked up words in the dictionary. Elizabeth glanced at the teacher every so often to make sure that he wasn’t looking at her, that she wasn’t going to get in trouble for anything. She also didn’t work as quickly as Rachael had. Elizabeth double- and triple-checked the definitions before she wrote them. Even Elizabeth’s handwriting was different; Rachael’s was loose and straight up and down, Elizabeth’s slanted and narrowed.”

A quote I like from my WIP, Outside In

“I logged onto Facebook, but I couldn’t look right away. I checked my news feed, played Bejeweled Blitz, Scrabble, and Scramble, in the same order I always did. I only had 48 friends, unilike Miranda who had hundreds. Too bad I couldn’t post a truthful status. Alexis Holden…is an idiot. Is not worth your time. Sucks. Can’t do anything right. Isn’t good enough. Is disgusting.

I opened Ben’s profile so I could stare at his picture, and my eyes traveled down the left hand side of the page. Oh my God. That was fast. His relationship status had changed to “single.” Not even “it’s complicated?” How about “just broke my girlfriend’s heart?” At least he hadn’t unfriended me. Yet.”


A quote I like from my WIP: Yoga

“The teacher told us to pay attention to our breathing, and said if a thought came into our heads we should pretend to write it on a balloon and let it go. If a thought came? Right. As if my mind ever quieted. Still, I gave it my best try.

Breathe. Breathe. What color would the balloon be? Would I write on it with a Sharpie? What color Sharpie? Would it pop, or blow away?

Breathe. Are everyone else’s eyes closed? Better close mine. Is my shirt riding up? Better pull it down.

Breathe in, out. In, out. In, out. How is that girl so thin? Does she even eat? Stop thinking.

Breathe. In and out, and in and out. I am the biggest person here. I am the ugliest person here. How do you write that on a balloon? Stop.

Breathe. Inhale. Exhale. Again. Don’t cry. Everyone will notice.”