With the change of my blog format, each month I'm picking a topic to do a deep dive to share with you. In September I talked about the different creatures of fae lore and shared how they related to my Raven Court world, and what other books have some fun fae creatures. In October, I researched and wrote about the classic monsters: vampires and werewolves. I'm excited for a holiday-themed topic for December, but I wanted to do things a little bit different for November.
I'm going to tell you a little bit about me.
And… WARNING: I'm about to get a little bit personal. ;)
I've been working with an amazing author coach all year mainly to tackle the business side of being an author. (I spent DECADES learning the writing/craft side)
My coach had me do a very cool exercise that has had me thinking and pondering ever since. She said that all of my books have some underlying theme or message that I might not have realized. While I considered this, she told me a story from her childhood and how it relates to her writing. As she spoke, it sparked something from my childhood that I feel was a pivotal moment/lesson that has bled into my books.
I actually wrote a fictional version of this memory I shared with her in Trapped in Her Dreams.
I changed the names and the circumstances (for instance, you can replace the character Jenny for Joanna), but I had something very similar thing happen to me while sitting in French Class in the 8th grade that resulted in me having ZERO friends for about a year.
Reading this one scene won't spoil the book or the series, so I decided to share it with you here! It's a stand alone scene that illustrates something that Emily (the main character) experiences in her dreams:
French Class, from Trapped In Her Dreams
by Joanna Reeder © 2018
I can see the white corner of a folded note jammed partway into my locker from halfway down the hall.
I wonder who it’s from, I think as I take the last few steps a bit quicker.
Pulling it out before opening my locker, I’m even more excited when I see my name, Jenny—written in curly letters with tiny blue hearts drawn all around it.
I study the handwriting. It’s definitely not from my BFF in the whole world, Sarah. She always crosses the J and uses her favorite purple pen. The J on my note is definitely not crossed and is written in a generic blue ballpoint pen. And her notes are always folded into a triangle. This is a regular rectangle.
But I only have about a minute left until the tardy bell rings, so I quickly dial in the combination for my locker and switch out my Algebra textbook for my French one and jam both the book and the note into my bag.
Skipping down the hall to my class, I actually arrive and slide into my seat up front with time to spare. A thoughtful student, I organize my textbook, notebook, and number two pencil—white with the pink flowers—on my desk.
But Mademoiselle Parry isn’t in the classroom yet. Maybe I can read my note before she gets here. I look around again, and once I’m certain the coast is clear, I retrieve it and quickly unfold it.
Jenny, it reads in the same blue curly letters. I skip to the bottom of the page before reading the rest to see who it’s from. It’s from Maddie. The same tiny blue hearts that bordered my name on the outside of the note dot the i in her name. It’s cute. Maddie and I aren’t super great friends. We share a common friend in Sarah, but that’s pretty much it. I keep hoping we’ll become better friends, but it’s hard for me to reach out. I’m too shy and quiet. Maybe this is Maddie’s way of reaching out, I think just as I notice the phrase above her signature at the bottom: Just the messenger.
Not worrying what that means, I dive in.
Jenny,
I hate to be the one to tell you this, but Sarah and I don’t have time to be friends with you anymore.
My heart drops, and I scan the room again to make sure Mademoiselle Parry still hasn’t arrived. She hasn’t, so I keep reading.
Since Sarah and I both made the cheerleading squad and you didn’t, we have to focus on our practices, and it’s important that we become best friends with the girls in our squad.
The blue words cheerleading squad are double underlined with blue pen.
I’m sure you understand.
Tears prick my eyes. I wish I could talk to Sarah right now. There’s no way she would agree to this!
Sarah didn’t know how to tell you this, but the cheer girls won’t want to be our friends if Sarah’s still being friends with you.
I hastily wipe an escaped tear before my classmates can see it.
Sarah is getting really popular. She can’t have someone like you messing it up for her. You know, you are kinda a downer sometimes about your mom and all, and people don’t really like being around you.
Sarah really doesn’t want to talk to you about this, and she’s hoping that Matt will finally ask her out after school, so if you could just take this hint and not try to talk to us anymore, that would be great.
Mademoiselle Parry trots into the classroom, so I hurry and skim to the end.
Sarah might make cheer captain! Isn’t that exciting! All the boys will want to hang out with us if she does.
I’m sure Rebecca will still be your friend.
Go-o Mustangs! *high kick*
Just the messenger,
Maddie
“Bonjour, class!” Mademoiselle Parry says in her cheery voice.
“Bonjour, Mademoiselle Parry,” all of my classmates say in unison. All I can do is mouth the words, so that a sob doesn’t escape when I use my voice.
Why is Sarah doing this to me? I wonder as Mademoiselle Parry calls the roll. And why did she have Maddie write this note? My thoughts darken. If she really didn’t want to be friends anymore, why didn’t Sarah tell me herself? I mean, I get that I am sad sometimes. My thoughts turn to my mom and all of the chemo treatments she’s had over the past few months. Maybe I shouldn’t have talked about my mom so much. Maybe I should have been more happy and upbeat.
I want to cry. I want to hang my head as soon as I leave the classroom and crawl into a dark hole.
You can’t let them get to you. You can’t let them see how much this hurts, something inside me says. It’s me, but not me at the same time.
They want you to be upset about this. Don’t give them the satisfaction. I deliberately wipe my eyes and plaster a fake smile on my face at the front of the classroom and say “Here!” when my name is called, as if I hadn’t just read the worst note in my life. Just pretend like it doesn’t bother you at all.
I grit my teeth hard, pushing my emotions back. A hard lump in my throat hurts, but I force it down. I keep my smile broad and let it reach my eyes until I honestly chuckle at Mademoiselle Parry’s lame joke that I’m only half paying attention to.
I won’t let this affect me. I won’t let this affect me. I repeat the phrase to myself over and over throughout class so that when the bell finally rings and it’s time for lunch, I walk out with my head held high. Ready to face the eighth-grade.
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The “voice” Jenny was hearing there at the end, was Emily (the main character). Emily was Dream Walking this experience with Jenny and helping her be strong while so many of her peers are watching her. And also just being with her so she doesn't feel so alone while Jenny is reading the words of a nasty girl.
(Fun tidbit: The Mustang was my school mascot when I was in the 8th grade. I didn't change that part.)
After sharing that experience with my coach, we began brainstorming some I believe statements that connect my themesand messages, to my books.
Here's what I have so far:
“I believe life’s trials refine and empower us, and I write stories about embracing weakness and growing through fantastical journeys.”
That was long-winded!! Bravo if it you made it here to the end!
