Synopsis:

Synopsis:

After seventeen years of being ignored, Marquin Brinsely was perfectly comfortable with being antisocial. She liked her peace. Until a boy came her way and shattered it. What’s a girl supposed to do?

(Mar-qwin Brins-ley)

First, a (Relatively) Short Authoress’ Note:

I had a friend who decided that the perfect present from me to her (for her birthday) would be a full-on, cliché romance story that was overblown and extremely over the top. At the time I could not fathom why. And then I suddenly remembered— she normally read those kinds of stories. So I told her that I maybe, just maybe, that I might consider it. MIGHT.

Well, this said friend ended up moving back to her own country (cozy little Iceland) and before I knew it, I had completely forgotten about our almost agreement.

Until I got an e-mail.

From her best friend.

Whom, might I add, I have never met in my life. She’s in Iceland.

The letter (which was so long and boring that by the end of it I was practically snoring) detailed about how my friend, who was her friend as well, had suddenly come down with a horrible illness and had been admitted into the hospital. Where she had been for a month.

Apparently, she was a bit under-the-weather, and somehow, my friend’s best friend had found out about her American friend and decided to ask this American friend to write a piece for her best friend who was also my friend (if that made any sense at all).

This is the point of time where I wish that I wasn’t that American friend.

So I told her what I told her best friend. Maybe. If I had the time (which I most certainly do not).

Two weeks later, one night at four AM, I woke up from one of the oddest dreams that I had ever had. Odd because it was almost normal. I suddenly knew that I had my storyline for my sick friend in Iceland.

So during the little time that I had, I eventually wrote the rough draft into a notebook, along with any other notes that I needed. When I typed it up on the computer, I ended up completely changing it all. And then after that, the first chapter went through four different revisions, two different versions with two different tenses, a re-written version in first person rather than third, and then finally— the nearly-almost-completed-but-still-not-quite-there version.

I eventually fixed it all, with the help of some friends and beta readers, and sent a copy to my friend in Iceland via e-mail.

She replied that she was mad that it was only the first chapter. Yea. No thanks, no ‘Wow, I kind of like it’, no nothing. I wrote back that I have things here have their own pace. I said that she needed to remember that I was an American. That meant that the second chapter wasn’t even remotely plotted yet.

So without further adieu, I give you (finally) the finished-but-took-an-aggravtingly-long-two-months-to-tweak-it-till-it-got-perfect-but-I-still-think-it-could-be-much-better version.

Enjoy.