Date: Fri, 18 Mar 2011 13:31:34
Subject: Re: Fw: Ta-Dah!
wow, k, there’s something to this... her story should be a book. and how weird she has a friend named cadwallader - who names their kid cadwallader? it’s freaking me out a little since that’s the name of the dwarf-story guy. we’re playing phone tag.
anywho, let’s talk tomorrow; i’ve got some song ideas.
To: Ashley <firstname.lastname@example.org>
Date: Mon, 21 Mar 2011 13:52:04
Subject: Re: Ta-Dah!
Michael and I been devouring your story, just loving it! I know it may be premature to ask this, but our collaborative philosophy is to telegraph our ideas so that they can live or die in the light. So: we are wondering what you might think about us publishing your story as an ebook? I can already tell you the musical will leave a lot of it out, and change a lot, but yet you write with great energy and your story stands on its own.
Let me know your thoughts!
From: Ashley <email@example.com>
Date: Tuesday, 22 Mar 2011 10:39:01
Subject: Re: Re: Ta-Dah!
Subject: Re: Re: Ta-Dah!
Your email excited me! I’ve always wanted to write a book but there are so many pressing things it's always seemed impossible. Isn't it something how life brings our dreams to us, just when we've finally let them go? So yes, I'm open to the idea, and a bit giddy, but... not quite ready for prime time, if you know what I mean. Let’s ‘keep it in the light’ as my friend Linda says, and see what happens.
~ ~ ~
The Terrible Saturday started out nice and sisterly. Debra, Donna, and I had finished our homework, and were playing a board game and talking about boys. Well, they were talking about boys. I was mostly listening in, while trying to figure out if it was Professor Plum or Miss White in the “Confidential” file. The two of them were arguing over this boy, yes, this boy named *Jeff * (*sigh*), who had been my sweetheart in second grade, but I wasn’t very close to anymore. (I wasn’t very close to anyone.) It was fun to hear them talk about him, since I felt like I knew him so well (ha ha) and in my heart I could still tell there was still a sweetness between us, even while he was surrounded by his popular friends, or playing basketball, or helping a group of special needs kids cross the street.
“He’s dating, that beautiful cheerleader with the black hair,” said Donna.
“No, he’s not, I heard him say he was on his own. They’re just friends,” said Debra.
“You don’t talk to him!”
“No, but I sit behind him in Psychology.”
“That’s why you’re probably going to flunk that class.”
And so forth.