Contest Entry

Okay, so there is this New FREE contest for writers of Memoir so I thought I’d give it a shot & if you’re interested you should too. Check it out: http://tinyurl.com/j4d3kqz 

Advertising it is part of the rules and I don’t have a twitter so this will have to suffice. Here is my entry or the beginning of my manuscript, because why not? you never know 😉

You can only submit the first 150-300 words so here is the very beginning, not even the whole prologue:

                                                                           Prologue

I walked toward the ornate, gold-framed doors of building number 993 and rang the doorbell. The red brick building with a green-cascaded rooftop was a reminder of the Park Avenue Roaring Twenties’ architecture, which kept alive the vibe of the carefree times when women empowered themselves with music, fashion, culture, independence, and the right to vote.

“Fancy,” I said with a shimmy, channeling my inner flapper girl. I needed all the empowerment I could get on a day like today.

A strong buzz sounded through an intercom, and I opened the door to be greeted by a heavyset woman with jet-black hair and pale skin, sitting at what I assumed to be her desk. Her perfume smelled of French vanilla. I took a whiff, which was a nice contrast to the strong sewage smell that loomed outside. The city really has to get better with its garbage pickup, I thought and as an aside, thanks Bloomberg. One night my mom saw a rat pitter-pattering through a maze of trash bags and then over her feet as she walked along the sidewalk. Ever since then, I sprint like hell at the site of garbage, afraid a rat will come out of hiding and gnaw on my toes.

“Hi, I’m Danielle,” I said to the woman who looked like Rosie O’ Donnell but without the personality. “I have an appointment with Dr. Chang. I really like your perfume by the way,” I added as I twisted my curly brown hair to the side of my face.

She answered mechanically, as if she were a robot on autopilot. “The doctor will be with you shortly. Just have a seat in the waiting room.” Then, to my delight, she offered a slight smile, which reassured me that she was in fact human. Yes, I won her over. Dani, one point, mean no personality Rosie O’ Donnell look-a-like, zero. BOOYAH!

The waiting room was filled with pregnant women boasting baby bumps in all shapes and sizes. I found an open seat next to a small brown wooden table piled with stacks of magazines. I looked around the room, once again observing the women waiting for their appointments. I again eyed their beautiful, bountiful baby bumps and couldn’t help but stare. One dirty-blond woman in particular caught my eye. She was with her doting male partner, their hands tightly clasped, looking so happy.

My eyes then scanned my own body. Pregnant ladies in Dr. Chang’s waiting room, one point, sad-lonely-fucked-up-recovering-anorexic Dani, zero. Zero because I didn’t have a bump or a partner and wasn’t sure if I would ever have either. Tears welled with the word ever in the forefront of my mind. I hoped no one would notice. I grabbed the magazine on top of the stack and pretended to browse it. Great! Parenting. Why doesn’t the world just throw my fear of being infertile in my face? Before I knew it I was crying, tears pouring down my face. Fuck, fuck, fuck, these women are going to think something is wrong with me. Dani, pull your shit together, I thought as I held my head in my hands, the magazine falling to my lap. Come on, Dani, put on that pretend smile you’re so used to flashing.

I wiped my eyes completely dry and picked my head back up, flashing the best ear-to-ear pageant smile I could produce. Gosh, I could give those little girls on Toddlers & Tiaras a run for their money. Fake it till you make it, I thought.

*** To be continued…

 

 

 

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