Hello everyone ….
It’s been a long journey but I’m still traveling it with as much stamina as I had when I started. I will be sending everyone an updated blog soon on exactly how I arrived here (and my novel “Speaking Truths”). I will finish my original dedication to this blog, which was to give an account of a self-published author fighting her way to publish what many have said, “Is a good story.” If you take a look at my website — http://www.DaynaHester.com — you’ll see I’ve im the process of setting up all the promotional aspects of marketing a book. As I ramp up my blog again, if you have any questions as to what’s been going on in the last several months, please email me or ask the questions here!
But meanwhile, here’s a couple of excerpts from the novel … you can check it out on Amazon, BN.com and bookstores!
Excerpt from Chapter 1 …
It had been three days since I showed up to English class. I hated school. I never fit in. Everyone stared at me like they’re better than me. Maybe they were; I don’t know. The kids were getting their folders out of their backpacks, which I forgot to bring. I leaned over to the cheerleader chick next to me to ask for a pencil, but that’s when the teacher, Mr. Sanders, walked up with a slip of paper. “Landon, I’m sorry, but the office needs to see you.” He put the paper in front of me on my desk. He was lying. It didn’t say to go to the office. It was a hall pass to go see the guidance counselor.
“That’s messed up. What the hell?” I bashed my fist against the desk.
Sanders leaned into me like what he had to say was just between us. “If you want to talk about it, let’s go outside.” There was a time when I thought he was cool. It was the first day of school. I learned on the second day that he was just another nerdy prick with leather loafers and khakis. That wasn’t my style. My style was baggy jeans and a hoodie pulled down over my I-don’t-give-a-fuck green eyes.
I looked around the class. Everyone was staring at me. Frozen. Mouths open with their jawbones unhinged. I had been in school with most of the kids since eighth grade because the hellhole village I lived in was so small that they crammed middle school and high school into the same building. I pulled my hoodie back to look Mr. Sanders in the eye. “No way. I came to class to fix things. You said I could make up my missed work.”
“Go to the office and see if they’ll help you, Landon. It’s not up to me anymore.” He was just looking for excuses. He wanted me out of his class.
The stupid, “Yes, Mommy and Daddy” kids just sat there with their blank faces like they’d never done anything wrong, especially the fat-ass slob who sat behind me. I turned my head to look at him. What are you looking at?”
“Nothing.” He jerked his head back so quick it made his double chin double again in size. I wanted to make a stupid joke, but then I got pissed off even more when I saw him look up, over my head, to Mr. Sanders. It was a coward move, like he needed a savior or something. That’s what you found in Nebraska: cowards.
The more I looked around at everyone, the more I started thinking about how I knew they talked about me when I wasn’t in class. I could tell I was gonna lose my cool, and I didn’t care. I was sick of how they all thought they were so much better than me. When my eyes came back to the fat kid behind me, he was still looking up at the teacher. I leaned into him and dropped my voice. “Does your dad know what a coward you are?” That’s when I felt Mr. Sanders’s creepy pedophile hand grip my shoulder. “Landon, please. Don’t disrupt the class.”
I turned around. His bushy unibrow was right in my face. I jerked my shoulder away. “Get your hands off me. I’m done with this shit anyway.” I tried to stand but my leg hit the desktop. It’s not like I’m super-tall: barely six feet. I lost my balance and almost fell to the ground. That’s when the pig-snout kid snickered like he’s all that. My anger exploded. All I remember is flipping my desk over, grabbing a book, and ripping the pages out.
Why can’t people understand me?