by Jennifer Gooch Hummer
Apron Bramhall has come unmoored. It’s 1985 and her mom has passed away, her evil stepmother is pregnant, and her best friend has traded her in for a newer model. Fortunately, she’s about to be saved by Jesus. Not that Jesus—the actor who plays him in Jesus Christ, Superstar. Apron is desperate to avoid the look-alike Mike (no one should look that much like Jesus unless they can perform a miracle or two), but suddenly he’s everywhere. Until one day, she’s stuck in church with him—of all places. And then something happens; Apron’s broken teenage heart blinks on for the first time since she’s been adrift.
Mike and his grumpy boyfriend, Chad, offer her a summer job in their flower store and Apron’s world seems to calm. But when she uncovers Chad’s secret, coming of age becomes almost too much bear. She’s forced to see things the adults around her fail to—like what love really means and who is paying too much for it.
Today I have a funny post from the author of Girl Unmoored which just released this week on March 6th.
If this post is any indication of how it will be, it's going to be one that goes on the special shelf!
Thank you Jennifer for your hilarious post! Look for more information about how to find Jennifer at the bottom of the post!
The other day a fellow fourth grader called my daughter “Milk Face.” So it got me thinking about dialogue.
We are pale people. We don’t tan, and if we are even partly naked in the sun we tend to blind people with our reflection. My 4th grade daughter also happens to be a platinum (natural – no toddler tiara funny business here) blond. So you can see where the name “Milk Face” came from.
When my milk-faced daughter told me of the boy’s name-calling, I hugged her tight and told her what every good parent does – that he’s shorter than all his friends, way shorter, so he’s definitely going to grow up angry. (She hasn’t studied The French Revolution yet so I skipped the most obvious reference to his condition.) Then I pushed her away, ran to my desk and scribbled “Milk Face!” on the back of an old AT &T bill.
I did the same thing with “Captain Obvious.” This time the name was hurled at me by my 14 year-old daughter. I had done about as much to deserve this as good ole Milk Face had done to deserve her verbal abuse: nothing. I’d merely pointed out to my sweet lovely daughter that she might want to consider studying for her European History test instead of watching Glee. “Duh. Thank you Captain Obvious.”
I know I should have taken her phone away, or made her clean up the dog poop in the yard, but instead I waved her off, ran to my desk and scribbled down “Captain Obvious!” on the back of a mortgage statement.
Good dialogue is precious. Especially the kind that you can’t-no-way-not-a-chance make-up on your own. I mean milk face? How good is that. And there’s no possible way I could have come up with Captain Obvious.
Which has led me to conclude that writers are bad parents. At least fiction writers. We have to make stuff up, and it’s hard. Like trying to bend a spoon with your mind hard. We need all the help we can get and if that means abusive, disrespectful name-calling once in a while, then fine. Bring it on, Shawty.
Oh. And one more thing. In my book, Girl Unmoored, there may or may not be more stolen dialogue. I’m not saying anything.
Thanks Jennifer! Or should I say Captain Obvious!
You can reach Captain-uh Jennifer at www.jennifergoochhummer.com
All of her social media contacts are there but just in case her twitter account is @JGoochHummer
Her Bio can be found here on Goodreads.