May 24, 2019
By Ekta R. Garg
Enjoy these Spurts from the last month, readers!
Driving home from music one day, Twelve and I heard a commercial for a company called Scentbird that sends a customer custom-picked scents. The DJ talked about what a hefty investment a perfume is and how choosing one without knowing its scent may not go well because a person may not like what they bought.
“Isn’t why they have…?” I said.
“Testers,” Twelve added, finishing my sentence and shaking her head. “That’s what the testers are for.”
As we continued listening to the ad, we heard the company name again: “Scentbird”.
“I never thought of birds being aromatic in any way,” I said to Twelve.
“Baby chicks stink,” she said. “That doesn’t exactly bode well for their company, does it?”
Earlier this week as we left school, Twelve asked, “Are we going to be in town for July 31?”
“Um, no,” I said, “why?”
“Because that’s Harry’s birthday.”
I frowned a little. She didn’t have any friends in school or outside of it named Harry. Did she actually mean—
“Who?” I asked.
“Harry,” she said. “Harry Potter.”
Just as I tried to come up with a response, she added, “June 5 is Draco’s birthday.”
“That’s the one I would celebrate,” Ten piped up from the back. “I wouldn’t celebrate Harry’s. Actually, I would celebrate it but as a funeral.”
“Such a Dursley,” Twelve said with a shake of her head, referring to Harry’s horrible aunt and uncle in the books.
I guess it beats Twelve having an unusual attachment to a teenybopper celebrity. Or, you know. Draco Malfoy.
With school wrapping up this week, the kids were deep in the throes of signing yearbooks. Both Ten and Twelve have been signing books of one another’s friends. Ten described her thought process behind signing the yearbook of one of Twelve’s BFFs who also participates in the same youth theater group as Twelve.
“I wanted to write ‘I enjoy watching you on and off stage’ in N.’s yearbook,” Ten explained, “but I thought that would be a little creepy.”
“N., I love watching you sleep at night,” Twelve said in a sickly sweet voice. “I just come right up to your bedroom window.”
We all laughed, open-hearted and open-mouthed, with me doubling over the steering wheel as we waited at a stoplight.
“I love the new pajamas,” Twelve went on, and her sister bounced in the seat behind her in an effort to control her laughter.
“Are those new bed sheets?” I chimed in.
Just then a man in a tattered t-shirt and with green hair crossed the street in front of the car, and we laughed even harder. It’s a good thing he didn’t see us. We probably looked strange, a mother and two girls cracking up at a red light.
Since beginning work in earnest on my novel at the beginning of my month, I’ve talked more about it with the kids. I first shared the story idea with them last year on a family trip to Niagara Falls. In the last year, as I’ve gained more clarity about the book, I’ve talked about it in more concrete terms and ideas with the girls; they in turn have asked questions and offered their own suggestions for the story.
Not all of the ideas are viable.
Ten asked me about the main climax, and I explained a little about the fictional kingdom of Linden that I’ve created and the fight between the king and his enemy.
“You should just have one of the Avengers come in and flatten the whole kingdom,” she said.
“But…but what about the good guys?” I said. “We don’t want to kill everybody.”
“Oh, it’s fine,” Ten said with a wave of her hand. “You don’t need them. The Avengers. That’s what you need.”
I sputtered through the beginning of an explanation about not being able to publish unsolicited fan fiction, but she ignored me.
Later, as Twelve asked me whether I’d solved a particular story problem, Ten inserted herself (in this case literally by sticking her head between her sister and me) and asked, “Is this going to get published all over the world?”
“Um, I hope so,” I said.
“Is it going to sell a million copies?”
“I hope so.”
“Are you going to have a bunch of authors saying good stuff about it on the cover?”
“Um, I hope so.”
She considered my answers. “All righty then.”
Maybe it’s as simple as that.
All righty then.