I'm busy, busy, busy––but I just couldn't resist playing Saturday Centus today. (Do you think I might be addicted to this crazy writing meme/blog hop wherein we writer-types add 100 of our own words to Jenny Matlock's prompt and come up with what passes for the shortest little short stories ever?) I won't tell you what I think...After all, denial is part of the disease, right?
As usual, the prompt is in red.
An involuntary gasp of shock escaped my lips when I opened the shoebox and saw the pointy-toed shoes from my agent. But it was the little, hand-printed note of congratulations that made me jump to my feet and begin shout-singing “I’m Not That Girl” at the top of my lungs. Because, actually, I was that girl. Shockingly, incredibly, mind-blowing-and-bendingly, I was that girl.
The very next morning, I dropped a wicked cool greeting card in the mail, addressed to my mom in Ohio. She likes the musical kind, and this one played “New York, New York.” Of course, it was signed by Elphaba, Wicked Witch of the West.
All it said was, “Start spreading the news…”