Ginger Scott's Blog - Posts Tagged "angst"

I'm excited to share the first teaser from "Going Long," the sequel to "Waiting on the Sidelines." Reed and Nolan's story continues as they navigate the challenges that come along with a long-distance relationship in college and the growing pains that come along with truly growing up.

It was important to me to stay true to the coming-of-age genre with the first book, giving you an honest look at every heartbreak and pivotal moment in Nolan's life as she matured from naive tomboy to woman in love. In "Going Long," you'll get to see the rest of the story unfold from both Reed and Nolan's perspectives. Here's a small taste to hold you over until the fall, and I'll be sharing more before the book's planned launch sometime in October.


Reed's perspective:

Nolan and Sarah were waiting on the leather sofa at the main entrance to the athletes quarters, their feet folded up in their laps. The girls had grown closer in college and even more so when Sienna moved in with her boyfriend. I was glad that Nolan had someone like Sarah to look after her. She’d told me off a time or two, and I’ll be honest, it made me nervous. I wanted that same toughness at Nolan’s side when I wasn’t around.

“Well, how’d I do?” I asked, kicking at Nolan’s folded legs a little.

She stood up, pulling her shirt down over the top of her shorts, always modest and still so damned unsure of her beauty. Chewing at the inside of her cheek a little, she put her thumb to her lip like she was considering something. “Hmmmm, I don’t know, Johnson. I’d put you at about eighty percent,” she nodded, acting with disappointment.

“Eighty percent, huh?” I said, rushing her a little and swinging her over my shoulder to carry her through the doors. Her giggling started then, the best sound in the whole damn world. “Eighty percent?”

I took off running, leaving Sarah behind. Nolan knew exactly where I was going as she started slapping at my back and threatening me that I’d ‘better not.’ When we got to the main fountain at the center of campus, I pulled her back over my shoulder and held her in my arms as I pulled off my shoes with my feet.

“Reed Johnson, don’t you dare!” she screamed as I stepped over the concrete edge and waded in the water, sliding closer and closer to the main spray. Her screams and giggles only egged me on.

“You want to rethink that B minus, Noles? Eighty percent? You sure about that?” I said, freezing in place, just one more step away from the full effects of the waterfall. I looked her in the eyes and watched as she flinched, just for a minute, and then finally did it.

“OK, maybe I was being a bit unfair. You were really more of an eighty-two,” she said, baiting me.

Our eyes locked, I pushed my lips tight into a disapproving grin and shook my head. “Oh, now you’ve done it,” I said, stepping forward and stopping us underneath the force of the fountain’s shower. Nolan wasn’t mad. Sure, she screamed and smacked at my chest as the freezing water poured over us. But my playfulness never rattled her. If anything, it had the opposite effect, which I was counting on as she reached around my neck and pulled my head to hers for a forceful kiss. Her hands grabbed at my soaked T-shirt, pulling me closer. I let her body slide from my arms so I could wrap my fingers through her hair. It was a good thing Trig and Sarah reminded us we were in public.

“God, you two. It’s bad enough that I don’t have a boyfriend, but do I really have to be the uncomfortable third wheel on our way to the bars, too?” Sarah broke us up.

“Sorry, Sar. I get carried away, what can I say,” I said, grinning.

“Yeah, yeah,” she said, reaching for Nolan’s hand to help her climb over the edge of the fountain. But I wasn’t about to let her go. I grabbed her back in my arms and dunked her once more, pushing my forehead to hers as she slid her hair back out of her eyes and blinked the beaded water from her lashes, laughing. I swung her back and forth in my arms as I carried her back to the dry side, the tips of our noses touching and my lips tingling just watching her bite her lower lip. Unable to take it, I had to kiss her once more, the soft and slow kind I did when I forgot others were watching or when I wanted everyone to know she was mine. And she was…she had my whole entire heart.

It's release eve/day, and this book that I openly admit is my favorite thing I've ever written is live (almost everywhere - 40 minutes to go here on the west coast). I wrote a little post over on my Facebook page, and it just felt fitting to share here. I'm my usual nervous nelly on release night, so without much fuss or fanfare (or should I say fussy fuss?)...some words about this book of mine, and why I want to see it fly so damn bad.

I will be up all night as Wild Reckless goes live in every time zone. This book is my seventh trip through book release-dom (<--- I made that word up). Seven times, and you think I wouldn't be a crazy neurotic mess. But here I am, laptop on a pillow, surrounded by other devices so I can multitask and freak out on several platforms all at once. Just like I do every. single. time. This time, though, it's almost harder. It's harder because...I know this one is my best. I know it. I know it. I know it. And I hate to be so bold, because I'm usually the type to stand by the punch bowl, waving politely, saying "no, no, I'm fine, really. You go dance with her, I've got this here punch and I'm good." But being passive, not letting myself be confident, just this once, would be a shame. If you haven't read one of my books, then in a nutshell, let me just say I tend to write very real stories. They're love stories, but they're full of all the shit and pain and trials we go through as humans. They're about being young, being stupid, and being cruel. But they're also about growth, friendship, family and finding yourself. And this one, this Wild Reckless book of mine, goes dark, and twisty and messy and beautiful, and I am fiercely proud of it. If there's a book of mine you were wanting to try first, my god please let this one be your way in. It goes live here in Arizona in about an hour, and you can get it for your Kindle or Kindle app at the link in this post (or on Barnes & Noble Nook, iBooks, Google Play, Kobo - soon in paperback on Amazon, too). I try not to overtly pimp myself too much because it's just not my style; I'm just not great at aggressive salesmanship. But as I said--no regrets putting this baby out. Leaving it all out on the field. <3 Ginger
Amazon buy link - click here.

As I write this, I'm counting down the hours with a nervous tummy for the release of Wicked Restless - the second book in the Harper Boys novels. I'm nervous because I always am on release eve. Heck, I'm nervous until the book has been out for weeks, and I find something new to be nervous about. These books are little pieces of me, and I want them to find readers' hearts so very badly. I know I'm not alone in wanting that - it's something I share with many author friends of mine. We talk often about how we hope there are more lovers than haters, but in the end, we wouldn't have written it any differently.

And that's the case with Andrew Harper's story for me.

I wrote Wild Reckless, Owen's story, without any idea that there would be a second book. Owen's story has its own beginning, middle and end. But after it was released, and the threads of his story--the things that happened in his life to make him the way he was--began to touch readers, I realized those same threads were what made his younger brother Andrew so alive in the story. It only took one email from a reader asking for Andrew's story to clinch it for me. There were too many things that happened in Wild that had to leave a mark on Andrew, and then I started thinking about all of the things yet to come in his young life.

And then I tested him.

As I sent out the advance copies of Wicked to a few reviewers, one who I have come to know and value so very deeply sent me a note--"this story has that Outsiders feel," she said. I read that statement over and over. It hit me--right in the chest.

Yes. Yes!

There are books that I have read that are definitely influences in my writing style. I think I will always be chasing Sittenfeld and Fitzgerald. I like to dabble in tragedy and the bleak side of life. But I also like to find my way out. I like to see heroes and heroines overcome adversity.

And thanks to SE Hinton, I think I'm always chasing Ponyboy, too. If you haven't read The Outsiders, then one: how did you get through eighth grade without having to? And two: you should. Everyone really should. There's a reason it's on the academic must-read roster--it's important. Whereas a lot of my classmates when I was a young, awkward, 13-year-old rolled their eyes and despised having to write the essay on the greasers and the socs, I swam in it.

For me, The Outsiders wasn't a story about class. It wasn't about rebelling or sex or the angst of wanting a girl outside of your circle. Well, no...it was. But that wasn't what hit home, what resonated to the point that I cranked out six pages of essay in an hour-long class (note: that is a lot of scribbling for an eighth grader who probably also had half of her brain focused on the cute boy two rows over and one desk up). It was a story about family. I wrote about loyalty, disappointment, longing and what happens when young people have to step into the holes left behind when someone dies.

So how do these rambling thoughts come together? Well, as I mentioned--I get stupid sick to my stomach on release night because I want my baby to be loved. I close my eyes and throw pennies and blow lashes into the wind hoping. But for once, this, my ninth book, I feel just a little less nervous. Because of Ponyboy, and the fact that my story made someone think of him, just a little. I'm smiling as I type those words. I'm smiling because as much as I put Andrew Harper through in Wicked, I'm glad I did. I wouldn't change a thing. And that Outsiders feel--well damn, that one word review alone is good enough for me.

I hope you all enjoy.