Ginger Scott's Blog - Posts Tagged "debut"
My Favorite Parts - Waiting on the Sidelines
I shared this over the weekend on my author Facebook page. It's a little tidbit from "Waiting on the Sidelines" that happens to be one of my personal favorites. You see, I'm a big fan of anticipation. I love those moments right before, and I am a sucker for the almost. While writing "Waiting on the Sidelines," there were a few chapters that I would think about all day and just get giddy with excitement over knowing that I would get to dive in at night and move my characters through something special.
A moment.
Well, for me, this is one of those moments. The kind you wish you could write for your own life, how you wished it happened...and if it did for you? Hell, I'm jealous. I plan on sharing a few other 'favorite parts' over the next few days in my countdown to my cover release for "Going Long." And soon, I'll be sharing something big from "Going Long" -- before it's big launch in October.
So, for those of you who've read "Waiting" I'd love to know if this was one of your favorite parts, too. And if not, please let me know one that is. I'd love to dig it up and share it with others on Facebook. Thank you all for reading! You're dream-makers, just so you know :-)
Excerpt from "Waiting on the Sidelines"
Reed just stared down at me, shifting back and forth from eye to eye because we were so close. The music and screaming from other swimmers in the background started to fade out. It was the same sort of feeling I got when I was about to pass out, but I knew my head felt fine. Reed leaned his head forward, pressing his forehead to mine, closing his eyes for a bit. He just sort of spun us, ever-so slowly in a circle, with our lips breaths apart. My lips were tingling, almost numb, but not from the cold water. I bit my bottom lip to try to stop the twitching and keep myself from shaking. I felt Reed shift, getting an even stronger grip on me, somehow holding me closer, which didn’t seem possible.
I was frozen, the tip of my nose touching Reed’s, as we swayed slowly in the water to some sappy pop song about standing in the rain. I knew the song, it was one of my favorites. But ask me the words right now, and I’d only be able to spit out gibberish. I bit my lip again, licking it a little from this unbelievable, beautiful suspense. And then Reed’s lips were touching mine. Not hard, but so incredibly softly. It was barely a kiss, but it was still the best one I’d ever have. He tilted his head up, just barely, taking my top lip between both of his and leaving them there for a few seconds, sucking me in faintly so I felt the tips of his teeth.
When he pulled back, he leaned his face to look at me, still cradling me in his arms. I opened my eyes slowly and couldn’t hide my smile. I wanted to cry, the type of cry from a release when you’ve waited so long for something. He just reached up and brushed water from my face with his thumb and stared at me until finally breaking our silence. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to do that,” he smiled gently.
“You have no idea…” I paused. “Well, there’s just so much you have no idea about, Reed.”
A moment.
Well, for me, this is one of those moments. The kind you wish you could write for your own life, how you wished it happened...and if it did for you? Hell, I'm jealous. I plan on sharing a few other 'favorite parts' over the next few days in my countdown to my cover release for "Going Long." And soon, I'll be sharing something big from "Going Long" -- before it's big launch in October.
So, for those of you who've read "Waiting" I'd love to know if this was one of your favorite parts, too. And if not, please let me know one that is. I'd love to dig it up and share it with others on Facebook. Thank you all for reading! You're dream-makers, just so you know :-)
Excerpt from "Waiting on the Sidelines"
Reed just stared down at me, shifting back and forth from eye to eye because we were so close. The music and screaming from other swimmers in the background started to fade out. It was the same sort of feeling I got when I was about to pass out, but I knew my head felt fine. Reed leaned his head forward, pressing his forehead to mine, closing his eyes for a bit. He just sort of spun us, ever-so slowly in a circle, with our lips breaths apart. My lips were tingling, almost numb, but not from the cold water. I bit my bottom lip to try to stop the twitching and keep myself from shaking. I felt Reed shift, getting an even stronger grip on me, somehow holding me closer, which didn’t seem possible.
I was frozen, the tip of my nose touching Reed’s, as we swayed slowly in the water to some sappy pop song about standing in the rain. I knew the song, it was one of my favorites. But ask me the words right now, and I’d only be able to spit out gibberish. I bit my lip again, licking it a little from this unbelievable, beautiful suspense. And then Reed’s lips were touching mine. Not hard, but so incredibly softly. It was barely a kiss, but it was still the best one I’d ever have. He tilted his head up, just barely, taking my top lip between both of his and leaving them there for a few seconds, sucking me in faintly so I felt the tips of his teeth.
When he pulled back, he leaned his face to look at me, still cradling me in his arms. I opened my eyes slowly and couldn’t hide my smile. I wanted to cry, the type of cry from a release when you’ve waited so long for something. He just reached up and brushed water from my face with his thumb and stared at me until finally breaking our silence. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to do that,” he smiled gently.
“You have no idea…” I paused. “Well, there’s just so much you have no idea about, Reed.”
Darn You, Matthew McConaughey
I've been wanting to write this blog post for a while. I've started it and stopped it in fits, completely deleted it a few times, started again and, well…here we are.
I love telling stories. It's what drew me to journalism in the first place--and I've told some pretty unbelievable stories of some real people who have lived some fantastical lives. I've told of their survival, their demise and their love. And when I was in the thick of my journalism career, notebooks full of quotes for the next magazine deadline, I thought to myself, "Wow…this is amazing. I've done this! But…I still want to do more."
You see where I'm going with this. Matthew McConaughey. I waited up on Oscar night knowing he was probably going to win just to watch his speech. I didn't really expect to have it stick with me for weeks. Honestly, I just wanted to see him say "Alright, alright, alright." (Which he did, and yes, we can all agree it was totally bad-ass!)
But damn him. He had to go and get all kinds of poetic. Yes, he may have been a little more quixotic than some care for, but the point of what he said was pretty potent: Be your best self, and then move the bar and be better.
When I was a kid, I wanted to be Judy Blume. When I was a journalist, I wanted to be Curtis Sittenfeld. Most recently, I want to be Colleen Hoover. All amazingly talented women authors who I admire, respect and aspire to. And it's good to have inspiration. It's good to consume art made by those you look up to and to let it guide you and educate you, maybe even influence you. But then…then there's Matthew McConaughey.
In case you missed his amazing speech, he basically said he always chases himself, 10 years in the future. Chase myself, 10 years in the future. Hmmmmm…. that seems….hard. That seems scary, with all sorts of possibilities for disappointment. And failure, as I've shared before, scares the daylights out of me.
I've thought about this for days--alright, weeks, hence the start-and-stop of this blog post. I'm always chasing someone else, because I feel like they are so amazing--better, cooler, more talented, on top...pick the positive adjective and insert it here. But, oh you wise Matthew McConaughey, you--in the world according to Matthew, I don't have to be anything other than whomever I end up being down the road. And I'm bound to have learned a thing or two, accomplished something, and become a better writer than I am now.
I've written three books, and I'm enormously proud of them. I've learned from feedback--both the positive and the tough-to-take. I'm in the thick of finishing my forth novel, my most personal and emotional story yet. And this year, I took a leap, finally making good on that promise to myself to see what it's like to be a writer full-time. I bet me 10 years ago would be in awe of the me I am right now.
So what the hell…I'm going to start chasing myself...10 years later. I'll probably chase Colleen Hoover for a little while, too. You can't make the shift to full-on Matthew overnight. But maybe, just maybe, one day I'll feel worthy of running alongside her.
I love telling stories. It's what drew me to journalism in the first place--and I've told some pretty unbelievable stories of some real people who have lived some fantastical lives. I've told of their survival, their demise and their love. And when I was in the thick of my journalism career, notebooks full of quotes for the next magazine deadline, I thought to myself, "Wow…this is amazing. I've done this! But…I still want to do more."
You see where I'm going with this. Matthew McConaughey. I waited up on Oscar night knowing he was probably going to win just to watch his speech. I didn't really expect to have it stick with me for weeks. Honestly, I just wanted to see him say "Alright, alright, alright." (Which he did, and yes, we can all agree it was totally bad-ass!)
But damn him. He had to go and get all kinds of poetic. Yes, he may have been a little more quixotic than some care for, but the point of what he said was pretty potent: Be your best self, and then move the bar and be better.
When I was a kid, I wanted to be Judy Blume. When I was a journalist, I wanted to be Curtis Sittenfeld. Most recently, I want to be Colleen Hoover. All amazingly talented women authors who I admire, respect and aspire to. And it's good to have inspiration. It's good to consume art made by those you look up to and to let it guide you and educate you, maybe even influence you. But then…then there's Matthew McConaughey.
In case you missed his amazing speech, he basically said he always chases himself, 10 years in the future. Chase myself, 10 years in the future. Hmmmmm…. that seems….hard. That seems scary, with all sorts of possibilities for disappointment. And failure, as I've shared before, scares the daylights out of me.
I've thought about this for days--alright, weeks, hence the start-and-stop of this blog post. I'm always chasing someone else, because I feel like they are so amazing--better, cooler, more talented, on top...pick the positive adjective and insert it here. But, oh you wise Matthew McConaughey, you--in the world according to Matthew, I don't have to be anything other than whomever I end up being down the road. And I'm bound to have learned a thing or two, accomplished something, and become a better writer than I am now.
I've written three books, and I'm enormously proud of them. I've learned from feedback--both the positive and the tough-to-take. I'm in the thick of finishing my forth novel, my most personal and emotional story yet. And this year, I took a leap, finally making good on that promise to myself to see what it's like to be a writer full-time. I bet me 10 years ago would be in awe of the me I am right now.
So what the hell…I'm going to start chasing myself...10 years later. I'll probably chase Colleen Hoover for a little while, too. You can't make the shift to full-on Matthew overnight. But maybe, just maybe, one day I'll feel worthy of running alongside her.
