Let me take you back for a minute to 2006, my sophomore year of high school. It was a year where I ate Yoplait Whip for lunch every day and it wasn’t because I was dieting. (They were like, legit, the only thing I could eat without getting sick that year and I think I was a blissful 110lbs.) Is everyone else as resentful of the skinnier versions of themselves from high school? No? Moving on.
This week I’m having a major flashback to high school–but it’s not because I just braved my lactose-intolerance for a yogurt just now.
It’s because in high school I was 100% focused on one thing: publishing a book.
See, I was a book reviewer–mostly for the networking capability and I was writing a young adult novel. Which was great, because boy was it a great time for Young Adult Fiction. I mean Twilight was just being discovered, Libba Bray was at the height of her career–I had galleys and ARC’s pouring in from Simon & Schuster and Harper Collins every day. It was like Christmas every time I went to get the mail. I was working for Today’s Teen and The Sun-Sentinel publishing my reviews. And oh baby did I think I was the coolest thing ever.
They even had a shelf-end reserved for my recommendations at Borders.
The only problem? I can’t write novels for shit. I mean, I tried. I had great ideas and I could plan the thing out to a T. I had chapter plans and character profiles and pages and pages of scenes. But at sixteen, I just didn’t have the discipline to piece it all together.
But then things were changing for me at that age. My personality was starting to verge away from being based entirely on anti-depressants and my hormones. I could no longer go into manic episodes of teenage angst to write 400 pages of poetry.
And that’s when I started to shy away from novels and into editorials. Which has been great. For the last seven years I’ve had a lot of fun in journalism, but now I finally have the chutzpa to write a book and this week I’ve actually started sending out my proposals. Terrifying and amazing.
Anyways. I had tsazaki sauce with carrots for lunch and lived to tell the tale. So I thought back to high school and how much I loved those whips yogurts. If I could eat tsazaki sauce—which I assume must be dairy–shouldn’t I be able to eat one of those yogurts?
Well, three hours later I can tell you I was wrong about the yogurt.
Maybe I’ll be right about the book, though.