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Genre: Literary Fiction
About Life SoundtrackLocation: Providence, Rhode Island Home Region: Age:22 Favorite novels: Poisonwood Bible, The Bean Trees, Pigs in Heaven, Prodigal Summer, The Belljar, The Catcher in the Rye, The Great Gatsby, Their Eyes Were Watching God, Dress Your Family in Corduroy and Denim, Naked, The Words to Every Song , Nobody Belongs Here More Than You... Favorite writers: Barbara Kingsolver, David Sedaris, Emily Dickinson, Sylvia Plath, J. D.Salinger, F. Scott Fitzgerald, Miranda July, Liz Moore, Zora Neale Hurston... Favorite music: For writing? Imogen Heap, Kaki King... nothing with lyrics... because then I start transcribing. Non-noveling interests: Reading, photography, art, car rides, breathing salt air, being warm... |
Joined: November 1, 2007 This Year: Official Participant NaNoWriMo History: NaNoWriMo posts: 0 NaNoWriMo buddies: 3
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Synopsis: ...?
Southern belle Corinna May Stevens has always had a little bit too much impatience for the laid back south. But, after a series of events - including her friend's abortion and a breakup with her boyfriend of four years - force her to take a look at and question all aspects of her life, she takes the advice of her wildly uncensored cousin, Grace, in New England, and moves north to reevaluate. There, she lives a life that she would never otherwise have dared; she pushes herself to her limits, faces the consequences, and meets Adrian Pemberly: a man whose own secret list of tragedies, one which greatly outweighs her own, lies hidden beneath a silent and seemingly hollow shell of a human being.
Excerpt: ...?
The fact of the matter simply was that Corinna May had more charge to her battery than most of the folks she surrounded herself with. She wanted to move faster, farther. She wanted to drive fast. With the top down, and the A/C off. She wanted to wear brighter lipstick, and shorter skirts...
“That girl’s got a mouth like a kettle you can’t take off the fire,” her mother would laugh to her father, or whoever else was around at the time, as Corinna May would come blowing through the door, talking about her day, dancing around the house like a tornado in a cotton field, leaving in her wake stunned faces and numb ears, both of which were just struggling to keep up with what they just experienced.
Corinna May Stevens was like a storm that, bubbling her way through calm, warm waters, picking up steam as she went, often seemed like she was just biding her time until she had the strength move on.
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