When I was planning my blog out, I was intending to write about Dystopian Futures set in the United States in Young Adult Literature. Yep, I really was. Ha. Once I got to it, though, I changed my mind, mostly because I don’t have my ideas formed completely yet. I’m not sure I’ll ever write about that in this blog – it might stay in my head for a while yet. But I wanted this post to have something to do with writing, so I decided to include the abstract of a short story I’m planning on writing.[i] Before I actually post the abstract, though, a little background might be nice.
I created the character of Izzy two years ago, while I was working second shift at a food manufacturing company and feeling pretty isolated from everyone in my life. I’m not sure exactly how she came to me, but I knew exactly what I wanted her to be like from the first word I wrote down. She’s actually a character in a novel-length story that I never finished. I’m thinking I’ll finish it one day – I have plans. It’s a mystery story, though, which is a new genre for me, and I wanted to make sure I did it right. So I shelved the project, at least for now. But I still love Izzy, and I wanted people to meet her.[ii]
So, without further ado, here is the abstract for the short story that I will hopefully be writing in the next several weeks :
I am Isolde
“I go by Izzy.”
You have no idea how often I speak that phrase.
My parents named me Isolde after the Irish princess who fell so in love with an English knight that, after his death, she planted two trees that grew intertwined over his grave. Then she disappeared. It is a lot to live up to, so I ignore all of the questions and insist that everyone call me Izzy.
What else am I supposed to do? I finally got out of my hometown, away from the talk of my crazy mother, my pushover father. I finally got away. I don’t need to be dragged back with stories of my mother’s love of romance, her incessant reading of folklore and fairy tales.
I have been hiding from the name Isolde my entire life.
I’ve never been good at anything other than storytelling. It’s how I get people to leave me alone. I spin yarns about my parents’ deaths, about running away from home, about murder suicide plots and insane asylums. None of it is true, but now, everyone thinks I’m crazy, too. I don’t mean to lie to all of these people, but lies are sometimes easier than the truth.
But I can’t lie to Tanner. I’ve tried. He just narrows his eyes and stares at me, like he’s seeing through me and into everything that I’ve been hiding. He knows everything without my needing to tell him.
He doesn’t think I’m crazy. He calls me Isolde, my given name. And here I am, turning into the princess I was named after, falling so in love that I’m at risk of disappearing when he does.
Yes, I go by Izzy.
But I am also Isolde.