So, after taking a break from Let It Be (I was quite discouraged by the trailer-fiasco, and lacked inspirtation for it) to work on a new project, I've decided to return to our tale of Abby and Sam.
Let It Be is currently undergoing another makeover- not so much the story this time as the wording. It's no secret I'm not the most literary-fantastic writer, but I'm trying to add some sort of literary depth to Let It Be.
Anyways, I've been thinking about self-publishing it. Going to Amazon, just putting it up, sitting back, and seeing what happens. After this new edit, which should be done in the next month or so, depending on how much I decide to do, I'm thinking about revealing it to those who haven't already asked to read it.
The deal? Letting my work out into the world is the scariest thing in the world. Terrifying. I don't know if I can deal with people not liking it, or worse--- no one reading it at all. Or maybe worst of all--- people liking it. Everything is terrifying. And if I self-publish online, does that mean that I'll never get it legitly published? Will I never get a chance to rearrage it, write a new edition of it, and publish it again? It all feels so final.
We'll see, I suppose :)
ALSO-- It's so totally getting a new title. I personally HATE "Let It Be." I only chose it because I couldn't come up with anything, and it was the caption of a picture I liked. So pathetic. So be expecting that change, too :)
Keep watching!
Thursday, November 11, 2010
Trailer Update
Um, so, obviously, the trailer didn't exactly work. Don't misunderstand, we tried incredibly hard. I'm just not Abby, Brian isn't Sam, and sometimes the things you visualize in your mind simply can't manifest (when you're working on a weekend with the free-labor of your friends, haha).
So, no trailer. I don't even have the pictures we took (there are hundreds. With no winners), and frankly, I never want to see them again. Sorry.
Thanks again to Lauren, who tried so hard to help, and for all her effort (and putting up with my crazy project)! And Brian, and all those who appeared in the (now nonexistant) pictures.
So, no trailer. I don't even have the pictures we took (there are hundreds. With no winners), and frankly, I never want to see them again. Sorry.
Thanks again to Lauren, who tried so hard to help, and for all her effort (and putting up with my crazy project)! And Brian, and all those who appeared in the (now nonexistant) pictures.
Saturday, March 6, 2010
Let It Be Trailer News!
YUUUSSS!!!
LET IT BE TRAILER IS BEING SHOT THIS WEEKEND! Tomorrow, to be exact!
Okay, so it's way low-budget, and guess who's playing the roles? Ha, one of my best friends, Brian, is going to be Sam; my friend Kyle is going to be Tristan; my roommates are Mina, Carolina- the car accident victim, and other extra background people.
And guess who's playing Abby? Yuppers. Me. AHAHAHAHA. Yeah, um, I'm the farthest thing from skinny, so you'll have to ignore the difference of body types. And, well, the dying-my-hair-red turned into a HUGE fiasco.
So, aside from appearances, it should follow the book pretty well.
FACT: I even made a Batman blanket. Yeah. I'm that cool. (I'm so stoked about the blanket. It's one of my favorite parts... the fact that Batman is mention so many times in Let It Be.)
:)
THANKS TO LAUREN WOODFIELD, who is our photographer and editor!!! YEAH!!! We love you Lauren!
LET IT BE TRAILER IS BEING SHOT THIS WEEKEND! Tomorrow, to be exact!
Okay, so it's way low-budget, and guess who's playing the roles? Ha, one of my best friends, Brian, is going to be Sam; my friend Kyle is going to be Tristan; my roommates are Mina, Carolina- the car accident victim, and other extra background people.
And guess who's playing Abby? Yuppers. Me. AHAHAHAHA. Yeah, um, I'm the farthest thing from skinny, so you'll have to ignore the difference of body types. And, well, the dying-my-hair-red turned into a HUGE fiasco.
So, aside from appearances, it should follow the book pretty well.
FACT: I even made a Batman blanket. Yeah. I'm that cool. (I'm so stoked about the blanket. It's one of my favorite parts... the fact that Batman is mention so many times in Let It Be.)
:)
THANKS TO LAUREN WOODFIELD, who is our photographer and editor!!! YEAH!!! We love you Lauren!
Excerpt: Eating Habits
To my distress, I soon realized why Sam had first introduced the event as a “special dinner.”
They had made a freaking feast, like the sort of Thanksgiving dinner you saw on TV, the perfect dinner to feed twenty people. But this time, it was just me, Sam, and Cecil. My heart sank as my stomach churned. Nausea from the nervousness, not just the scent of food. How was I going to get out of it?
I sat and talked to Cecil while Sam bumped around in the kitchen. When he came back, Cecil got up to go get something out of the oven.
Sam came around my back and put a plate in front of me. “Eat.”
My heart sank even further. It was loaded, two inches high with rich foods, nearly spilling off the edge. “Sam…” I begged in a whisper.
“Eat,” he replied, harsher this time, staring at me.
I did what he said, I began eating. But once I hit my usual limit, which was wasn’t much, I stopped.
“Don’t stop.”
“Sam, I’m not used to so much… it’s going to make me sick,” I whispered in shame.
“Just try.”
I did, all that I could without vomiting there at the table. A cold shiver shot through my body, my face going pale. Tears formed in my eyes. I didn’t want to disappoint him, but I just couldn’t do it. I looked up at him, apologizing with my eyes.
He didn’t force me anymore. “You need to fix this,” he rumbled angrily.
“I am trying,” I whispered.
Cecil came back, his own plate loaded, and chatted away amiably. He was the cheeriest I’ve ever seen him, which felt weird since I was feeling so down. So was Sam. It was strange that Cecil didn’t sense the tension.
Sam disappeared into the kitchen again for another ten minutes without an explanation. But when he kissed my forehead in farewell later that night, there was beer on his breath. I winced. I made him sad.
The fact that Sam drank bothered me. I’d seen what alcohol does to people. I’d sworn to never touch it. But it was different for Sam, because Sam was different. It soothed him. Instead of taking away his reservations, his control, it focused him. It calmed his rage down, it made it easier for him to control his temper. He drank when something was really bothering him.
And I had bothered him.
Before I left, I grabbed a Sticky-Note and a Sharpie.
I'm sorry I ruined March 23rd.
I know it's because you love me. I'm trying.
Love you.
-Abigail
The next day, as the warning bell was ringing for first period, Sam appeared next to me. He kissed me, which was weird because we rarely did so when other people were around, never in a crowded hallway with people staring. But he kissed me, put something in my palm and let me walk into Spanish.
That was weird.
I sat down in my seat, people watching me disapprovingly, and looked at what he had given me. It was one of the same Sticky-Notes that I had used the night before, a note written in his careful script that proves he didn’t learn to write anytime lately.
You did not ruin it, I did.
I am sorry I upset you. I know you are trying. I just hate that you are hurting and I can't do anything about it.
I love you, too.
PS. I remembered why we celebrate March 23rd. It was the first time Cecil ever beat me in a wrestling match. Dumb, huh?
Samuel Montgomery
Stapled to the note was a bag of green grapes. It made me smile.
At least until Senor Tibet yelled at me. “Senorita Shea. No comer in la clase.”
Mood ruiner.
They had made a freaking feast, like the sort of Thanksgiving dinner you saw on TV, the perfect dinner to feed twenty people. But this time, it was just me, Sam, and Cecil. My heart sank as my stomach churned. Nausea from the nervousness, not just the scent of food. How was I going to get out of it?
I sat and talked to Cecil while Sam bumped around in the kitchen. When he came back, Cecil got up to go get something out of the oven.
Sam came around my back and put a plate in front of me. “Eat.”
My heart sank even further. It was loaded, two inches high with rich foods, nearly spilling off the edge. “Sam…” I begged in a whisper.
“Eat,” he replied, harsher this time, staring at me.
I did what he said, I began eating. But once I hit my usual limit, which was wasn’t much, I stopped.
“Don’t stop.”
“Sam, I’m not used to so much… it’s going to make me sick,” I whispered in shame.
“Just try.”
I did, all that I could without vomiting there at the table. A cold shiver shot through my body, my face going pale. Tears formed in my eyes. I didn’t want to disappoint him, but I just couldn’t do it. I looked up at him, apologizing with my eyes.
He didn’t force me anymore. “You need to fix this,” he rumbled angrily.
“I am trying,” I whispered.
Cecil came back, his own plate loaded, and chatted away amiably. He was the cheeriest I’ve ever seen him, which felt weird since I was feeling so down. So was Sam. It was strange that Cecil didn’t sense the tension.
Sam disappeared into the kitchen again for another ten minutes without an explanation. But when he kissed my forehead in farewell later that night, there was beer on his breath. I winced. I made him sad.
The fact that Sam drank bothered me. I’d seen what alcohol does to people. I’d sworn to never touch it. But it was different for Sam, because Sam was different. It soothed him. Instead of taking away his reservations, his control, it focused him. It calmed his rage down, it made it easier for him to control his temper. He drank when something was really bothering him.
And I had bothered him.
Before I left, I grabbed a Sticky-Note and a Sharpie.
I'm sorry I ruined March 23rd.
I know it's because you love me. I'm trying.
Love you.
-Abigail
The next day, as the warning bell was ringing for first period, Sam appeared next to me. He kissed me, which was weird because we rarely did so when other people were around, never in a crowded hallway with people staring. But he kissed me, put something in my palm and let me walk into Spanish.
That was weird.
I sat down in my seat, people watching me disapprovingly, and looked at what he had given me. It was one of the same Sticky-Notes that I had used the night before, a note written in his careful script that proves he didn’t learn to write anytime lately.
You did not ruin it, I did.
I am sorry I upset you. I know you are trying. I just hate that you are hurting and I can't do anything about it.
I love you, too.
PS. I remembered why we celebrate March 23rd. It was the first time Cecil ever beat me in a wrestling match. Dumb, huh?
Samuel Montgomery
Stapled to the note was a bag of green grapes. It made me smile.
At least until Senor Tibet yelled at me. “Senorita Shea. No comer in la clase.”
Mood ruiner.
Let It Be
Secrets surround the small town of Hartford, and now that Abigail Shea has moved in, they’re escalating. Abby moved out of her home in Seattle to help nanny her friends kids for her senior year of high school; at least that’s what she says.
Sam Montgomery has lived in Hartford with his cousin for a number of unimportant years, and has become the misunderstood bad-boy, the social reject. Although Abby is fully aware that she’d be committing social suicide by associating with Sam, she can’t stand the fact that he hates her for no reason. But once she starts to chip away at his harsh façade, she finds him to be a genuinely nice guy. So why the show?
After a strange accident involving an antique bathtub, Abby comes to know that Sam is different… not only does he have strange power, he’s immortal. And now Abby has some of the same power that Sam does, and an opportunity to become immortal if she chooses.
As Abby explores Sam’s world, he bares his secrets to her. But as their relationship grows deeper, will her secrets ruin it all?
Sam Montgomery has lived in Hartford with his cousin for a number of unimportant years, and has become the misunderstood bad-boy, the social reject. Although Abby is fully aware that she’d be committing social suicide by associating with Sam, she can’t stand the fact that he hates her for no reason. But once she starts to chip away at his harsh façade, she finds him to be a genuinely nice guy. So why the show?
After a strange accident involving an antique bathtub, Abby comes to know that Sam is different… not only does he have strange power, he’s immortal. And now Abby has some of the same power that Sam does, and an opportunity to become immortal if she chooses.
As Abby explores Sam’s world, he bares his secrets to her. But as their relationship grows deeper, will her secrets ruin it all?
Author's Bio
Holly Empey
is eighteen, contemplating futures, and the author of many unpublished (and mainly unfinished) stories that she hopes you get a chance to read in the future. This is the sixth (and by far the very best) completed version of Let It Be. The original story was written when she was sixteen, and this version was completed nearly three years later.
Visit:
http://hollahsthoughts.blogspot.com
and
http://darklightlullabye.blogspot.com
for Holly’s blog, sneak peaks, extras, and what has been referred to as other “epic randomness.”
is eighteen, contemplating futures, and the author of many unpublished (and mainly unfinished) stories that she hopes you get a chance to read in the future. This is the sixth (and by far the very best) completed version of Let It Be. The original story was written when she was sixteen, and this version was completed nearly three years later.
Visit:
http://hollahsthoughts.blogspot.com
and
http://darklightlullabye.blogspot.com
for Holly’s blog, sneak peaks, extras, and what has been referred to as other “epic randomness.”
Author's Note: Why I Wrote About Abuse
Why I wrote about abuse in Let It Be.
In my early high school career, I was exposed to the effects of abuse: three of my friends were abused. One was abused emotionally and mentally, one was neglected, and one was abused physically and sexually by her boyfriend. My sophomore year, I wrote a ten page term paper on the effects of child and adolescent abuse. It blew me away. So when I was emotionally abused by a boy when I was fourteen (my experience seems like absolutely nothing compared to my friends and other's experiences), it Tore. Me. Apart.
In my depression over the discovery of it all when I was sixteen, I angrily wrote the first version of Let It Be. It was much, much different, much more morbid, and contained much more abuse than it does now. I wanted everything horrific in the world to happen to Abby and have her triumph and have an epic love with Sam just to show that things can turn out alright. Eventually, I carved it down to what it is today for the sole purpose of giving one message.
My message?
To anyone who has ever been hurt: Everyone is giving the God-given right to attention, life, happiness, and love. Bad things happen to everyone, and yes, unfortunately more to some people than others, but we are all given these rights. If you make an effort, if you open up and let people in, you’ll find that there are people out there that want to love you, care about you, want you to be successful in life and happiness.
No, this does not mean that you are destined to an epic love with your own Sam, but it does mean that you are capable of having loving friendships. And who knows? Maybe even your own epic love story.
If I have an impact on just one person’s life because of this book, my purpose has been complete.
In my early high school career, I was exposed to the effects of abuse: three of my friends were abused. One was abused emotionally and mentally, one was neglected, and one was abused physically and sexually by her boyfriend. My sophomore year, I wrote a ten page term paper on the effects of child and adolescent abuse. It blew me away. So when I was emotionally abused by a boy when I was fourteen (my experience seems like absolutely nothing compared to my friends and other's experiences), it Tore. Me. Apart.
In my depression over the discovery of it all when I was sixteen, I angrily wrote the first version of Let It Be. It was much, much different, much more morbid, and contained much more abuse than it does now. I wanted everything horrific in the world to happen to Abby and have her triumph and have an epic love with Sam just to show that things can turn out alright. Eventually, I carved it down to what it is today for the sole purpose of giving one message.
My message?
To anyone who has ever been hurt: Everyone is giving the God-given right to attention, life, happiness, and love. Bad things happen to everyone, and yes, unfortunately more to some people than others, but we are all given these rights. If you make an effort, if you open up and let people in, you’ll find that there are people out there that want to love you, care about you, want you to be successful in life and happiness.
No, this does not mean that you are destined to an epic love with your own Sam, but it does mean that you are capable of having loving friendships. And who knows? Maybe even your own epic love story.
If I have an impact on just one person’s life because of this book, my purpose has been complete.
Excerpt: Halloween
“Abby, I know you can hear me.”
I ignored him, even though his face was only inches from mine. His face was hot; I felt the heat from his breath on my neck. I couldn’t quite decide whether I was ignoring him because I was supposed to be a mannequin, or if I was just using that as an excuse to get away from the strangeness of the day.
“Listen to me,” he continued. Amazingly, my mind focused on only Sam, the commotion around me, all the screams and horror music fading away. “Abby, we need to talk. If you will not do it willingly, then I am going to have to make you. And you know I will.”
When I didn’t even blink, he quickly grabbed me around the middle and pulled me off the table. He pulled me into his arms in one smooth motion and quickly proceeded towards the exit, carrying me.
“SAM!!!” I finally yelled, grabbing onto his shoulders for balance. “What are you doing? Let me down!”
“Shh.”
“Sam, I'm WORKING! You can’t just pull me out!”
“Stop causing a scene, Abby. I will let you down in a second.”
Immediately, my desire to fight back vanished. It was as if some wave of power came over me. A wave of power… apparently coming from Sam.
Sam?
Yes. From Sam. It was such a strange feeling, being overwhelmed by his power. If he could command me to shut up, and listen to him, and freeze, what else could he do? “How did you…?”
“Quiet.”
I closed my mouth and stared at him with wide eyes, afraid. Not knowing HOW afraid I should be. What the heck was going on? Sam shifted my weight in his arms as he pushed open the side door of the theatre and proceeded into the parking lot.
It was as if I was nothing more than dried leaf, that it took absolutely no effort for him to carry me. I was thin, but I wasn’t that thin. He made his way to his truck, and then gently let me down.
I took a few steps back as he unlocked the cab and opened the passenger’s side. “Come on,” he said, waiting impatiently for me to climb inside.
I continued to stare at him. All of the strangeness of the day flooded back into my mind. “Sam,” I whispered after a few moments of tension-filled silence, “what’s going on?”
He dramatically motioned to the front seat, and I finally gave in and got inside. He shut the door behind me, making me jump, then hopped into the driver’s side. He jammed the keys into the ignition, threw it in gear, and sped out of the parking lot. “Whoa,” I muttered as I grabbed the seat to steady myself. Sam took notice, and slowed down a bit. But only a bit.
“Sam?” I asked finally as we sped through the dark.. He glanced over at me in response. “Where are we going?”
“To my house.”
“But I thought you said—”
“Things have changed now.”
We remained silent for the rest of the drive.
I ignored him, even though his face was only inches from mine. His face was hot; I felt the heat from his breath on my neck. I couldn’t quite decide whether I was ignoring him because I was supposed to be a mannequin, or if I was just using that as an excuse to get away from the strangeness of the day.
“Listen to me,” he continued. Amazingly, my mind focused on only Sam, the commotion around me, all the screams and horror music fading away. “Abby, we need to talk. If you will not do it willingly, then I am going to have to make you. And you know I will.”
When I didn’t even blink, he quickly grabbed me around the middle and pulled me off the table. He pulled me into his arms in one smooth motion and quickly proceeded towards the exit, carrying me.
“SAM!!!” I finally yelled, grabbing onto his shoulders for balance. “What are you doing? Let me down!”
“Shh.”
“Sam, I'm WORKING! You can’t just pull me out!”
“Stop causing a scene, Abby. I will let you down in a second.”
Immediately, my desire to fight back vanished. It was as if some wave of power came over me. A wave of power… apparently coming from Sam.
Sam?
Yes. From Sam. It was such a strange feeling, being overwhelmed by his power. If he could command me to shut up, and listen to him, and freeze, what else could he do? “How did you…?”
“Quiet.”
I closed my mouth and stared at him with wide eyes, afraid. Not knowing HOW afraid I should be. What the heck was going on? Sam shifted my weight in his arms as he pushed open the side door of the theatre and proceeded into the parking lot.
It was as if I was nothing more than dried leaf, that it took absolutely no effort for him to carry me. I was thin, but I wasn’t that thin. He made his way to his truck, and then gently let me down.
I took a few steps back as he unlocked the cab and opened the passenger’s side. “Come on,” he said, waiting impatiently for me to climb inside.
I continued to stare at him. All of the strangeness of the day flooded back into my mind. “Sam,” I whispered after a few moments of tension-filled silence, “what’s going on?”
He dramatically motioned to the front seat, and I finally gave in and got inside. He shut the door behind me, making me jump, then hopped into the driver’s side. He jammed the keys into the ignition, threw it in gear, and sped out of the parking lot. “Whoa,” I muttered as I grabbed the seat to steady myself. Sam took notice, and slowed down a bit. But only a bit.
“Sam?” I asked finally as we sped through the dark.. He glanced over at me in response. “Where are we going?”
“To my house.”
“But I thought you said—”
“Things have changed now.”
We remained silent for the rest of the drive.
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