I am in the process of writing the rough draft of another novel, You’re the One: The True Story of Jack and Jill (see blog post “Current Project (So Far).” In the meantime, I thought I’d share an excerpt from time to time. I invite any feedback. This is a rough draft and your comments will help me develop the novel. The following is the second post excerpt.
* * *
Jill and I attended school together starting in junior high, but except for an occasional brush in the hallway there was no real interaction. In junior high school, we were in different home rooms, so we were never in the same class except one hour two times a week.
If you were in instrumental music, you joined classmates from other classes and even those from the other grade level who also took instrumental music for one hour two times a week. I was never so glad that my mom insisted at an early age that I play some instrument. Jill played a violin. I played French horn. French horns sat behind violins.
* * *
Mom started me on the piano just before I started school. My mom, Ginger Frontenac, the former Ginger Carlton from Memphis, Tennessee is an accomplished pianist and organist. She met Dad at Bob Jones University. He studied to be a pastor. She studied to teach music. He became a pastor. She taught me to play the piano.
At my parent’s insistence, I signed up for instrumental music classes in school in the fourth grade. All students began their music instruction playing a black plastic instrument we called a song flute. It made a hideous comical sound. It amused the audience each time we played.
During the year of the song flute, we were tested for musical abilities and asked what instruments we would like to pursue. I don’t know why they asked because I wanted to play the drums or a trombone. I was given a French horn. Dad said it was because I had too high an aptitude for drums and my arms were too short for trombone. Baptist preachers never lie, but they have been known to stretch the truth to its very dark and sinful edge.
* * *
As I alluded to earlier, Jill and I had only a little more than eye contact. Once in a while, I spoke to her and she said a few words, usually in polite response and a couple of times initially. The exchange was so few I have them or the jest of them memorized.
“Hi,” I said or sometimes in a courageous moment, “Hi, Jill.”
In my mind but never aloud, “Boy, you look beautiful today.”
Like I said, Jill responded with a cordial, “Hi” mostly. Sometimes she would just smile.
* * *
Even yet today, after all these years, that smile makes my heart rate rise and nearly takes my breath away. It doesn’t matter if it’s a picture in a magazine or media post, on television or the movie screen. Her crystal blue eyes light up and so does the room. Because she became an actress and model, I saw those eyes quite often.
* * *
It wasn’t until high school that Jill and I began a friendship that carries over until this day. The kind of friendship that if it happens to Jill I soon know and if I experience something significant, fantastic or tragic, I have to share it with Jill ASAP. We’ll be sharing many of them here throughout with you.
Jill did not join instrumental music in high school. I joined the Marching Band and orchestra which means for Perry High in Carsville, Indiana in the mid to late 1960’s, you signed up for instrumental music class.
Jill joined the choir and thespians aligning her with opportunities to perform in school plays and musicals. Ms. Bev Bernard sponsored the school plays and musicals as well as taught literature and drama. Needless to say, Jill was in a lot of Ms Bernard’s classes. I had Ms Bernard for Freshman and Sophomore lit. classes. I could have had any number of literature teachers either of those years but Providence stepped in to help bring me closer to Jill, at least that’s my version of the coincidences.
It was in Ms Bernard’s Sophomore American literature class where I grew bold enough to speak more than “Hi, Jill” to Jill. She still maintained her goddess status to me but I took the chance as a mere mortal anyway.
Categories: Sample writing
I write about what I'm thinking or what I've imagined in an effort to regain that childhood imagination and marry with my many years of real experiences. I'm getting better at it the more I write.I am a published author of two romantic intrigue novels.My books can be found at Amazon.com or if you want a personalized copy, by emailing me at email@example.com.