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Genre: Young Adult & Youth
About joyreaderLocation: United States Favorite novels: If I could sum them up in this small amount of space, I would be shocked. See my favorite authors, and then read everything they've ever written, and you'll have most of my favorite novels. Favorite writers: J.K. Rowling, Sarah Dessen, Lurlene McDaniel, Scott Westerfeld, Nicholas Sparks, Meg Cabot, Christopher Paolini, Marie Lamba, Sonya Sones, Ted Dekker, Elizabeth Scott, Siobhan Vivian Favorite music: Kelly Clarkson, Diana Degarmo, Sara Bareilles, Carrie Underwood, 3 Doors Down, Kellie Pickler, One Republic, Saving Jane, Alana Grace, Paramore, Savannah Outen, Taylor Swift, Demi Lovato, Rent soundtrack, The Fray, All Time Low, Mayday Parade Non-noveling interests: listening to music, hanging out with friends, reading, surfing the web, volunteering at the local library |
Joined: October 11, 2008 This Year: Official Participant NaNoWriMo History: NaNoWriMo posts: 59 NaNoWriMo buddies: 50
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Brief Author Bio: This'll be my second year participating in NaNoWriMo and the second novel I'll be writing. |
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Synopsis: Almost
How do you grieve for someone who was no longer your friend? That's the question Cassandra Gallagher faces in my second novel, Almost.
It's Cass's junior year of high school, and she and her best friend, Abby, are drifting apart, as Abby joins the art club and starts blowing off Cass. Almost following the stages of grief, Cass denies drifting apart from Abby and gets angry when she realizes their friendship is at its end.
Though she's been moving through the stages of grief, the stages often associated with death, she doesn't expect the tragedy that strikes. Her thoughts of Abby frozen in the horrible stage of anger, she's not quite sure how to grieve for her now that she's passed away. They weren't friends when Abby died, but they were for ten years before that. How can Cass grieve for someone she doesn't want to miss?
Excerpt: Almost
There was something about sleeping in the middle of a door jamb that had changed me that year. I figured that out at Abby’s birthday party, curled up in a ball under a fleece blanket, not in the place of honor, right next to the birthday girl’s sleeping bag and not in the equally important place on the couch, observing the party from a higher ground. No, lying underneath the scratchy blue fleece blanket from the back of her closet, I slept in the door jamb.
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