Whirlwind Day One

What an experience, Reader! I am currently sitting at 4, 791 words, and I am itching to continue. But I need to hold back. I have finished my first two chapters, and things have already started to change. I didn't plan very much, but I am already diverting from the plan. My characters are taking on a life of their own. I am not normally a fan of physical humour, I am more of a sarcastic gal. But Julie decided she was one clumsy lady, and the rest is history. And I initially planned to write in third person. But when the words started flowing out of me, like Coor's Light from a tall boy, they came out in first person. Basically, it feels like my characters and my novel are taking on a life of their own, and they have chosen me to be the vessel through which their message is delivered. Kidding. It's not that intense. But they have taken on a life of their own.

I want to include my entire first chapter, and the entire second chapter for that matter, but it is far too long. So I will put in a few excerpts about the two main characters, Julie and James, so you can learn more about them:

Julie:
I woke up that morning like it was any other day. I had barely cracked my eyes open and seen the offensive time of 6:15 on the clock before I realized that this was the single most important day of my life. In recent memory at least. But I am getting ahead of myself.

My name is Julie Christine York. I am 29 years old, and I live in London, Ontario. Not exactly the most happening city, but it suits me. Big, but not too big. Active night life, all confined to one area of town that can easily be avoided, or can easily be accessed, depending on what type of evening you wanted to enjoy. And, of course, it is the home of my alma mater, the University of Western Ontario. There is one notable thing, however, that London lacks: the Toronto Maple Leafs.

For as long as I can remember, I have been a Leafs fan. My first words were “Go Leafs Go!” Growing up in Southern Ontario, with a father who bled blue and white, I had no choice but to love hockey, and to love the Leafs. I had a brief stint as a power forward in Timbits hockey that ended with a broken wrist, and a vow to never play again. After that, I channeled all my energy into being the Leafs number one fan. Quite a feat, considering their recent lack of success. Not to mention the fact that they have not won a Cup in my lifetime




James:
"At around six, James walked in. More like breezed in. The man is perfect, and we are something of an odd couple. He is tall, with perfectly coiffed, short brown hair. Not that he actually styles his hair, he just lets it dry and it looks perfect. I am an intimidating 165 cm, and if I don’t spend at least 40 minutes on my hair each day I will have a gnarled, matted mess of brown curl and hell on my head. He is naturally athletic. I am hopelessly uncoordinated. This has always prevented me from excelling at sports, even though I have the competitive spirit of Sydney Crosby. He is very organized. I try to be very organized – and fail. His one flaw is style. His idea of putting together an outfit is finding pants and a shirt that are the same colour, and pairing them with whatever shoes are most handy. I this respect, I have him beat. I don’t try very hard with style, or trends, but I have always had a natural eye for it. I know what I like, and I know what looks good on me. And on him. Today, he was wearing the perfectly cut, subtly pin-striped jacket we picked out together last month, with green shirt that made his brown eyes pop, and khaki pants. Perfect business casual. And if I recalled correctly, the pants made his ass look like two scoops of butter pecan ice cream. Yum."