Hello all (or one; any audience is a fantastic audience).
A bit about myself:
My name is Veronica Duff, and I'm currently a college student in the Midwest majoring in English with a focus in Creative Writing. I write mostly YA stuff, some Contemporary, some Fantasy, and I have ideas for SF and Children's Fantasy. But ideas don't matter--my completed YA Contemporary, A Love to Kill For, does!
I also have a tumblr, and that's what I use most often, so if this seems a bit dead, it's probably because I'm over there. But I'm going to give blogger a chance to wow me. :-) Random factoids:
- I love banana-flavored stuff but hate bananas.
- I am in love with the BBC's adaptation of Sherlock (which just premiered on PBS last night, if I'm not mistaken.)
- I am a very lazy student.
- I dressed up as Katniss for the midnight showing of The Hunger Games, and I didn't buy anything; everything I needed was already in my closet.
- And lastly, I wish it was June so that I could turn over my Doctor Who calendar to a month with River Song in it.
Here was my entry:
May Secret Agent #24
TITLE: A Love To Kill For
GENRE: YA Contemporary
Alex knocked four times, and a viewfinder
slid open. “Someone ordered a Bloody Mary?” she said, her passphrase to get in.
The viewfinder shut, a bolt was drawn back, and the door opened inward.
Habitually, she went upstairs to Adriano’s
office. Donny, a broad, muscular type with dark hair and a tan, greeted her in
the waiting area with a wide smile, gesturing for her to take a seat on the
leather sofa. Her hand relaxed from hovering over the knife hidden at her hip;
she never went anywhere without it. After taking a seat, Donny did the same,
uncomfortably close to her.
“How’s college?” he asked, being
friendly. She often wondered whether Donny had a thing for her.
Don’t
mix business with civilian life, don’t mix business with civilian life, don’t
mix . . . “Fine. And
business?”
“Good. I’ll be seeing your old man in a
week.” Alex’s heart leaped. She had a hard time pretending not to care when her
father was mentioned.
“That so? Just on business or vacation?”
“A bit of both, but you know I can’t tell
you more than that.”
“Of course.” His eyes floated to the
“Trophy Wall” where obituaries of the Martello’s enemies were displayed. Most prominent
was the yellowed newspaper clipping of the exposé Brian O’Connor, Jr., had written
on the Martello family. Alex looked away from it. She often read the article,
cried over it, considered how different her life would be if her father had
never written the stupid thing.
* * *
So what do you think?
