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Genre: Young Adult & Youth
About happilynostalgicLocation: California Age:15 Website: http://yourfairytalelies.tumblr.com/ Favorite novels: To Kill a Mockingbird, The Great Gatsby, Speak, Harry Potter, The Lovely Bones Favorite writers: J.K. Rowling, Sylvia Plath, Edgar Allan Poe, Harper Lee, Alice Sebold, F. Scott Fitzgerald, Laurie Halse Anderson, Emily Dickinson Favorite music: Ingrid Michaelson, Bikini Kills, Switchfoot, Demi Lovato, Sara Bareilles, Regina Spektor Non-noveling interests: Music, Reading, Knitting, Crafts, Piano (?) |
Joined: October 6, 2009 This Year: Official Participant NaNoWriMo History: NaNoWriMo posts: 0 NaNoWriMo buddies: 2
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Brief Author Bio: Well, there's not much that's interesting about me. A typical day for me comprises of waking up, eating, brushing my teeth, school, using the restroom, showering, homework, sleeping (randomly), and more school. Sometimes I do volunteer work and go to the library. Yup. Quite recently, I've been delving into a lot of feminist philosophy. Currently, I'm trying to read Emma by Jane Austen and the Second Sex by Simone de Beauvoir. I have lots of goals, though many of them are generic. One day, I would like to be accepted into medical school and specialize in Internal Medicine or Endocrinology. My goals include: traveling to Europe, becoming an activist in literacy and feminism, writing at least one novel in my life (haha), learning how to play the ukulele, and trying at least one extreme sport. |
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Synopsis: Happy Little Bluebirds
Socially-impaired Audrey Wilks suffers from OCD and a plethora of other mental dysfunctions, according to her very tart psychiatrist, Nicole Mahoney, M.D. She lives with her mother in a small apartment, and finds school and social gatherings detestable. Her grandfather suffers from acute dementia, and Audrey can only hope that there is a place over the rainbow transcending her melodramatic life. But now, she keeps breathing, and holds on to her last string of mentality and hope.
Excerpt: Happy Little Bluebirds
“Audrey, like the actress Audrey Hepburn,” I replied, shifting my palms uncomfortably. The thick peppermint smell in his breath surprised me; the man looked like a vagrant, yet a sweet, strong smell emanated from him. He smiled and I saw a set of perfect pearly whites. He sure didn’t seem homeless.
“Joshua Joel. Pleasure to meet you, Miss Audrey. Why Audrey Hepburn was the best actress of her time. You can’t forget Breakfast at Tiffany’s.”
“No, you can’t,” I smiled.
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