Wednesday, May 7, 2014

Kara Peterson

I know for the other's I sort of wrote my own description of their story process and all of that, but with Kara I got a much different answer to "what was your inspiration". I was given a very long and very insightful paragraph that described her reasons for writing her novel "A Different Kind". When asked "What was your inspiration?", Kara provided me with this answer....

"I was first inspired to write this story in my junior year of high school. I was sitting in my Forensic Science class and we were learning about the bruising patterns caused during a car accident. We discussed how the car would pull the weight of its passengers in certain directions and an idea came into my head. I began writing a car crash scene soon after, which set up the basic foundation of my story. It has evolved and changed in the 5 years since I began, and has evolved more into a story about fitting into the kinds of molds we set for ourselves and other people, and the pressure we feel to fit into them. I also was inspired by John Green’s (author of Looking for Alaska, Paper Towns, The Fault in our stars) writing. In interviews and online forums, he has discussed his perspective on YA writing and the male obsession with the “manic pixie girl,” as he referrers to the crazy dream girl of most male geared fiction. I wanted to write a story that wasn’t centered on a love story per-se. I wanted to write something that battled the “boy obsessed,” creepy stalker vibe books, like Twilight, promote. I wanted to write a strong female character that is just an everyday kind of person.

As Kara said everything I would have needed too, I have pasted her work below. The writing speaks for itself in comparison to the inspiration and story behind it."

The main character, Aubrey, is at a party, getting very inebriated. She enters a bathroom, after an encounter with a boy, Mark whom she finds repulsive.
A knock on the door made me jump. The knob turned and Mark poked his head in. He smiled and slithered into the room, his size taking up much of whatever space remained in the bathroom. He closed the door behind him and I made my way back over to the toilet. The bathtub was right next to it so I opted to sit on the floor, with my back against the side of the tub. Mark came and sat down across from me. He picked up the bottle from the floor, unscrewed the cap and took a swig. He passed the bottle to me and I looked at it for a moment before taking a long sip, letting go of any reservations I had been having in the short time since he entered the room. 
We passed the bottle back and forth a few more times before I felt my head get heavy and I slumped closer to the floor. Eventually Mark was leaning over me, inches from my face. He began to kiss me and, at first, I began to pull back. He looked me in the eye as I took the final pull from the bottle before letting it slip from my hand and he leaned in again to kiss me. This time I let him and began kissing him back as I slid to the floor, his weight shifting above me. I ignored the little part of my brain that was still working, which blanched at the thought of his lips on mine, as I felt his weight push on top of me. I turned my head, breaking the kiss, trying to catch my breath so I could think clearly. 
Stop, my thoughts screaming the word that my mouth was unable to form; a small moan of disapproval was all I could muster, as his mouth found my neck. I felt his hand slide up my bare side and under my shirt. His hand was cold and I gasped. My hands found his chest and I pushed as hard as I could, my arms feeling as if they were no longer attached, my muscles felt like Jell-O.  My heart was pounding and I tried to squirm out from beneath him, but he was too heavy, too strong, and I had no control over my limbs, which seemed to be working on a delay.
Suddenly his hand was on the button of my jean shorts when the door to the bathroom burst open. In the doorway stood a boy, with brown hair, in a black t-shirt. Mark stopped kissing me and looked at the boy, who was just staring, this odd sadness in his eyes. I wondered briefly if that was how my eyes looked to other people. Almost desperate, like he’d been betrayed; like a dog who’d been kicked as a puppy, who couldn’t believe someone could be so cruel.
"Can I help you with something, buddy?" Mark said, as he rolled off me slightly to get a better look at the boy in the doorway. I took a deep breath, gasping for air now that I had been relieved of his weight. Behind him I saw the couple from earlier, the red-headed girl and the boy with dark hair. The boy in the doorway said nothing as he turned to look at Mark. I felt a tension in the air and I got a pang in my stomach. My heart pounded in my ears and I tried to focus on the other people in the small room as it swayed and spun around me. I looked from Mark to the boy, wondering if they were just going to stare at each other forever when suddenly Mark got up and left the room. 
The boy turned from me and walked down the hallway while the red-head and her boyfriend stared after him. I let my head fall back to the ground as the tension slipped away. I don't know how long I laid there, but the red head eventually entered the room and pulled me to my feet. She put my arm around her shoulder and guided me back to the hall. When we reached him, the dark haired boy put my other arm around him and they brought me through the house and out to the front yard. We approached a black SUV that had the engine running. The boy chuckled as he spoke: 
"You'd better do it here ‘cause I will never forgive you if you do it in my truck." 
I barely had time to question what he meant before I turned my head, and puked in the bushes.

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