ANYWAY, I KEEP TALKING ABOUT MY NOVEL, SO I THOUGHT I MIGHT THROW A FEW IDEAS OUT THERE AND SEE HOW PEOPLE FEEL. ALSO FANCASTING, DUH.
So obviously this is an idea I've been working on since 2010
. But that post has little to do with the post I'm making now. For one thing, I gender swapped everyone.
I love fucked up rich kids. I still call this my Gatsby Shit, but it's equal parts The Great Gatsby and Less Than Zero with dashes of other stuff and set in the Mid West at a fictionalized version of Lake Geneva, WI. Don't ask why, but that's where I went with it after visiting the lake in 2010 with my BFF Rubie.
I'll be honest, I'm posting this more for myself than anyone else. I started this year at 8K words and I'm close to breaking 40K, which will be near to halfway done since this is more of a novella than a full-length novel. Since my inspiration pieces are both short, I don't feel like I need to pad this out with too much garbage. We'll see though. I just had a breakthrough on the ending the other night talking to ambiguousreason
tell me I'm your national anthem
rich kids blues
I moved into their house. Well that was my first lie. I moved into the pool house No, I took possession of it. It was weird to call the big house my aunt and uncle's, although that's how I referred to it to my mother, how I thought of it in my head despite their overtures. They were hardly here that summer. But it wasn't some mutual family owned house either, chockablock with aunts and uncles and cousins and whatever. We weren't some big messy Catholic family. It was terribly tidy, too tidy: my obedient East Coast aunt and "rebellious" West Coast" mother. And my mother had sold out and made her feelings, and thus my place was quite clear at the time. I wasn't a guest, but I wasn't one of them. I didn't care. I ignored it. I pretended otherwise. I laughed with them, I swam in the lake or the private pools with them, I was tanned and tall and beautiful like them. I was quickly accepted as their West Coast cousin. There was no lie I did not believe. We were all so young and beautiful and damned.
I stayed in the pool house. Not because of some sort of prejudice against me, but because my mother actually owned the shack and had insisted. By "shack" I mean it was a real, tiny house. One bedroom, one bath, one kitchen with a big oven. Open living space. It was more than I knew what to do with and my aunt knew it. She told me to come inside for meals, to eat with them.
I was seventeen and this was my first taste of luxury living and I loved it.
I was a fool. ( ETCCollapse )