So I’m writing a novel…and this is the prologue. It’s just supposed to introduce everything. Can you guys make comments (like what you like, what you don’t, what you don’t understand, what I should add, etc)? I need to know if it’s clear enough and intriguing enough. Thanks! <3
before we began: Everyone’s life deserves to be written into a story. Including mine because seriously, I’ve worked so hard and struggled so much to get to where I am today yet I never seem to be completely satisfied. The thing is, nothing really tragic has ever happened to me or my family, nothing really novel-worthy. Sure, my grandfather died a couple years back (but we knew that it was gonna happen sooner or later so that was one of those “what the hay?” sort of situations. Only then, my mother would go “hay is for horses” and I would glare at her, resisting the urge to punch her in the lip). Hmm, oh yes, one time, someone shattered the window of our minivan which was parked in front of an apartment building when we were visiting friends (but we had car insurance…you know, that’s what car insurance is for, plus that situation only tells you how dangerous New York City can be at night). When I was in seventh grade, the doctor told my mom she had ovarian cysts (not that I even know anything about ovarian cysts except for that it made my mom incapable of having more babies…why my mom would want to have another baby? I don’t know) but they disappeared after she went on some sort of expensive medication. I really think that’s pretty much it; we’ve never been robbed, there’s never been unexpected deaths and/or losses of anyone special, and I’m pretty sure my parents aren’t bankrupt. See? Nothing dramatic, nothing exactly life altering. Nothing at all that would be interesting enough to make into a bestseller suspense novel. Or something of the sort.
Most people who write about themselves have exciting lives and so doing something like going to their aunt’s place up in London, Ontario less than three hundred twenty-five miles away wouldn’t be considered the biggest decision of their life. But I had never traveled more than a mile out of New York border so it was really a big step for me. When I packed my bags and boarded my train, I was happy. I was so glad that I was leaving my parents once and for all, that I could get away from the urbanness of New York. My parents were a little bit teary (well more of my mom) but it’s probably more because of the fact that I had decided to move to Canada instead of finishing high school at NY Prep (I know, the school name could not get anymore conceited) like they planned for their little genius daughter (I’m not even that smart) to do. Then they’d expect me to go to Harvard or something. I’m still a senior, yeah, but on top of finishing my last year in high school, my mom’s making me take college courses at the University of Western Ontario. It’s the only reason that convinced her to actually let me come here. College material stuff, baby. It’d be hard, but it was so worth getting outta the cruddy place. So I guess that the very last thing I expected was to reminisce over all the little memories in my life. The moment I stepped off that three hour train ride and saw my tall aunt waving at me with my little cousin, Sunny’s hand in hers, everything seemed perfect. My life was starting over. I didn’t see any of my future coming. Nor did I forsee falling in love. But sometimes, one time, you meet a person and with just one glance, you know the two of you are meant to be. Or so you think. At first.