I'm still plugging away at the YA WIP. Its a slow grind and I still haven't completed the first draft yet but just to give you an idea of how its shaping up here's a very small taste...
She’d said nothing as I’d walked in the back door, but the way she was drying her hands with a tea towel reminded me of that scene in Macbeth where Mrs Macbeth feels like she can’t get the blood off her hands. I was thinking, why did she feel guilty? But her face looked like thunder and as I walked past she put out her hand and stopped me.
“Who do you think you are?” she said, the sound of her voice matching her face. “Don’t you dare leave this house again, without my permission.”
I opened my mouth to say ‘I’m not a little kid,’ and her hand just flew out and caught me on my left cheek. It wasn’t that she was too fast for me. It was that Mum’s don’t slap their fifteen year old sons. That is, no other Mum I’d ever heard of.
Educational Resource: A Winter's Day in 1939
- Educational Resource: The Were-Nana
- Educational Resource: The Half Life of Ryan Davis
- Educational Resource: Made With Love
- Educational Resource: The House That Went to Sea
- Educational Resource: A Winter's Day in 1939
- Educational Resource: While You Are Sleeping
- Educational Resource: The Song of Kauri
- Educational Resource: Fuzzy Doodle
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