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Well guys, I'm cutting you off! No more chapters from The Day Ginger Snapped. Don't cry! You can always buy a copy for yourself to see what happens to Ginger and her friends.
I will tell you this...If you've been reading along you're at the part where Ginger is about to give a speech about who she is and what she likes and what she wants. It's very close to an actual speech I gave about myself around the time it was written. I had to change some of the things and add to it in order for it to work with Fake Ginger. Trust me when I tell you, Fake Ginger got a much better reaction than I got!
I want to start sharing the story I started as part of July's Camp NanoWrimo. I actually hit the 50k mark and wasn't finished with the story so I just finished it up as part of the August camp. This story is very, VERY different from The Day Ginger Snapped so it will be interesting to see what you think. Parts of this story were hard for me to write because they are just so far removed from anything I've ever written before so be kind!
I'm sharing the Epilogue with you today. Hopefully, I'll wake up in the morning with lots and lots of messages and emails telling me that you like this and want to read more!
I have to warn you that once again you're getting the unedited version so please excuse spelling and grammar mistakes!
***I went online today and checked out my class list since I go back to school on Tuesday and learned that I have a student in my class with the same name as the main character in this story. I've never had a student by this name before. I wonder if it's some kind of sign!***
The Story of Me
When you reach the end of your life and look back you will see two things, the people you loved and the people who loved you. If you are lucky both groups will be large and filled with the same people.
I was not lucky. I died cold and alone on the streets of Miami at the age of twenty-three. I am not telling you my story so that you will feel sorry for me. I don’t deserve your sympathy. Life may have dealt me a bad hand, but they were my cards to play. If I raised a bet or doubled through when I should have checked or even folded there is no one to blame but myself.
Instead, I am telling you my story so that you will know that I was here. I lived. I walked these streets. You may have even seen me and smiled or you may have looked away so that you didn’t have to make eye contact.
My story is not glamorous and there is no happy ending. Someone once told me that it’s not about the happy ending it’s about the story. So, this is it. The story. My story.
The story of me.
