Because I'm quite sure that you want the details (ha!), here's the dealio with the novella thingy. I went to that Writer's Marathon in Atlanta where you had to write from a prompt? Right? So, the prompt was "She says her name is Fiona..." And the first thing that came to mind was a terrible, dreadful poem, followed by the beginnings of a silly story:
She said her name was Fiona
She said her name was Fiona, but it was really Jasmine Leigh. She said she was from New York, but she was really from Tennessee.
Jasmine Leigh was a stupid name, Given to her by her mom. Fiona was a cool name, like the chick who sings those songs.
So Fiona she was when she landed the role and Fiona to them she'll be. But to me, the boy she once loved She'll always be Jasmine Leigh.
Jasmine Leigh Armstrong took off for Los Angeles in the spring of 1997. With her hair cut short, and her skirt even shorter, she knew she'd be the next big thing. It was only a matter of time until she was discovered, and until then she was content with the idea of waiting tables, or dancing in a titty bar. She wasn't all that picky, because a girl's gotta follow that dream, where ever that dream may lead, right?
Her boyfriend, Mikey Johnson, the guy she'd dated since she was ten, wasn't dealing with her decision to leave Athens for stardom. He moped and threatened, before caving in and sobbing his heart out as he watched her beaten up Chevy pull away.
Jasmine didn't look in the rear view mirror, so she didn't know about that until he emailed her later to describe his theatrical disintegration in the wake of her leaving. Mikey was a drama queen, and he'd be much happier when he figured out that he was gay, but Jasmine didn't have the heart to tell him that.
The drive from Tennessee to L.A. was long and often dusty, with her tiny life packed into an even tinier suitcase. She wound through the countryside, rushed through the straights of Kansas, and burned under the heat of the Nevada sky. Freedom tasted fresh no matter what the road or the weather held, and she raced it to the Pacific Ocean, driving until she could feel the sea-spray on her lips.
Then she reversed, and it was back to the city to find a place to stay. Unlikely because she had no job, no friends, and no money, but Jasmine Leigh was anything but faithless. She believed, and like all true believers, she was duly rewarded by a complete stranger who noticed her lost expression.
Five hours, and a few coffee's later, she had a new landlady. So what if she was prone to lecherous gazes at Jasmine Leigh's breasts and hips. She didn't mind the idea of giving the old dyke a thrill. In fact, she felt she was doing her a service, and left her blinds up on purpose, often stumbled around the renovated house in nothing but a towel, and otherwise gave what she considered to be 'tips' for the generousity the landlady showed when Jasmine's rent check was late.
And, at first, it was always late. It wasn't long before she found a job that took advantage of her fresh face and southern accent--her body exploited for money, and she didn't mind. After all, what was the difference between using her body as a tool for money by lap dancing, and using her body for a tool by acting? Either way she was prostituting herself and her looks, but for some reason one was considered an 'art'.
Justifications or no, she was satisfied with her life, and began to attend the workshops that were prerequisites for wanna be starlets.
no subject
She said her name was Fiona
She said her name was Fiona,
but it was really Jasmine Leigh.
She said she was from New York,
but she was really from Tennessee.
Jasmine Leigh was a stupid name,
Given to her by her mom.
Fiona was a cool name,
like the chick who sings those songs.
So Fiona she was when she landed the role
and Fiona to them she'll be.
But to me, the boy she once loved
She'll always be Jasmine Leigh.
Jasmine Leigh Armstrong took off for Los Angeles in the spring of 1997. With her hair cut short, and her skirt even shorter, she knew she'd be the next big thing. It was only a matter of time until she was discovered, and until then she was content with the idea of waiting tables, or dancing in a titty bar. She wasn't all that picky, because a girl's gotta follow that dream, where ever that dream may lead, right?
Her boyfriend, Mikey Johnson, the guy she'd dated since she was ten, wasn't dealing with her decision to leave Athens for stardom. He moped and threatened, before caving in and sobbing his heart out as he watched her beaten up Chevy pull away.
Jasmine didn't look in the rear view mirror, so she didn't know about that until he emailed her later to describe his theatrical disintegration in the wake of her leaving. Mikey was a drama queen, and he'd be much happier when he figured out that he was gay, but Jasmine didn't have the heart to tell him that.
The drive from Tennessee to L.A. was long and often dusty, with her tiny life packed into an even tinier suitcase. She wound through the countryside, rushed through the straights of Kansas, and burned under the heat of the Nevada sky. Freedom tasted fresh no matter what the road or the weather held, and she raced it to the Pacific Ocean, driving until she could feel the sea-spray on her lips.
Then she reversed, and it was back to the city to find a place to stay. Unlikely because she had no job, no friends, and no money, but Jasmine Leigh was anything but faithless. She believed, and like all true believers, she was duly rewarded by a complete stranger who noticed her lost expression.
Five hours, and a few coffee's later, she had a new landlady. So what if she was prone to lecherous gazes at Jasmine Leigh's breasts and hips. She didn't mind the idea of giving the old dyke a thrill. In fact, she felt she was doing her a service, and left her blinds up on purpose, often stumbled around the renovated house in nothing but a towel, and otherwise gave what she considered to be 'tips' for the generousity the landlady showed when Jasmine's rent check was late.
And, at first, it was always late. It wasn't long before she found a job that took advantage of her fresh face and southern accent--her body exploited for money, and she didn't mind. After all, what was the difference between using her body as a tool for money by lap dancing, and using her body for a tool by acting? Either way she was prostituting herself and her looks, but for some reason one was considered an 'art'.
Justifications or no, she was satisfied with her life, and began to attend the workshops that were prerequisites for wanna be starlets.