[untitled]

Well this really starts to set up the book, and one part of the plot

 

“Good job Ellie, keep it up”  Regina flicked a thumbs up before sending my draft into The Folder. I felt a little jump inside of me like when you reach the check out at Barney’s and find out that your Splendid tee was only $20. You see The Folder is not just a ordinary manila folder it is the mecca of Pink Publishing, whenever a paper graces the folder it’s fate is set, it is getting published. Well there is a little more to that, but still you know that on page whatever you will find in size 6 font your name. I really should not be surprised, I mean I have a regular piece. I think this would be my…36^th published piece. You see I am Fashion Friend of The Dior Diaries. I am the cutting edge of fashion teaching all my sweeties and kitties that sparkle nailpolish should not be seen on anyone over the age of three, and that it may be in the mags but it does not mean it is fashion i.e. plaid skirts (um hello death sentence for hips). But anyway that is off topic. Let me intro myself I am Eloise Queen a.k.a Your fashion friend. 

“Eloise you can um you know um leave.” Regina rustles in her orthopedic support chair looking clearly uncomfortable. This is my editor ‘n’ chief Regina Howl, but she does not like that. Regina is a former model with dagger check bones, coco brown st. topaz tan, and honey/ silver hair. On the outside she appears to be the incontrol and in demand. But she is about as controlling as second grader. It is a wonder that she is in charge of Pink the second highest selling fashion magazine, that if you were to go into any cut and suck ( plastic surgen come on get with the times) you could find our past 4 issues.

I myself have been at the magazine for um, well, if I tell you you would put me into a smigine of a snich because you could guess my real age. Welllllll if you kiss your elbow not to tell…ok I have been working there for 4 years and for the past 2 I have been FASHION FRIEND, a nonthreating, shoeaholic, purseaholic, all around shopaholic, and ALWAYS on top of the trends.  Housewives, Yummy Mummies, and Hollywood Actresses all follow my word as if it was the gospel. (I swear just ask my mom, my two best friends, and Katie Holmes!)  geez I sound like a little green goblin you should stop me when I gab on and on about little old me. 

I gather my padfolio and waltz back into my office. To be honest I am freelance I really should not have a office excespially such a fab one such as mine. I have blond hardwood floors, warm yellow walls, and a shabby chic desk, with rose and lilly molding with matching desk set and complementary iBook. But you see I bring in one sixteenth of the magazines money so to be honest they owe it to me. On my ink pad are three hot pink post it notes with a flower border. My sweet sceratary must have put them there. I really don’t need her since I only get about ten calls per week. But she fresh out of collage and trying to land a acting job, so my thinking is that it is better for both of us she can leave early and able to scrape by and I feel like I have done my good deed for the year. 

“Your mother called three times. And she said…um…she…oh she said something.” Little Ashley poped her head into the doorway. Racking her brain when the message was written right in front of her. “well she said something sorry” See I told she was sweet. But on to another important matter my mother called. Don’t get me wrong I love my mother to bits, but she can be a wee bit well…smothering. Sometimes I surprise myself that I became a writer with such a limited vocabulaty. She Is probably calling about finding a new house. Since my father “separated” as my mother likes to call it she has been spending money left and right. Since my mom always says that saving is key she had over ten thousand saved up for a rainy day and that was just emergency money. My mother had more accounts than I had shoes. She had her medical money, her fun money, her vacation I mean the list goes on and on just like the list of frivalious things she is buying with her money. Don’t even get my motar running on that one.

       My pink princess phone rings  (don’t worry sweetums it makes the décor.)  I already know that it is my mother since if you don’t pick up the first ninty nine times you certainly know you will the hundredth.

“Hello mom I can’t talk all that much since I am at work.” I hissed. Well not hissed but I said it in a very annoyed tone. (See I told you about my vocabulary)

“Oh good because I can’t talk either.” I really am not listening not that I ever did, I am more interested by the free Real Simple magazine. “Guess where I am at?!” my mother sings. And when I say sings I really mean like a high g. 

“I really don’t know house hunting?” I gave my half hearted reply. Ooo a new Dolce and Gabbana perfume.

“I’m in Venice!!!” Oh French fries. How could I have forgotten. About the 22^nd of the month my mother goes into what I like to call the drama queen stage “Oh my life is nothing I am nothing whatever shall I do?” So by the 24^th she goes into for lack of a better term bathrobe stage where she mopes around her room watching I Love Lucy and whailing “That b***h Lucy she gets everything SHE has a purpose why don’t I?” And finally to round out this week of theatrics she decides her new passion and gets “whisked” away to anther place on 1000 Places to See Before You Die list. Usally I am armed with Kleenex, chocolate, and travel sized toiletries.  

“Really mom what are you doing there.” I fake ethisuisam as much as one can. I mean I have heard the same thing for the past 13 years. Ooo darling it is perfect just perfect! Doing (action) is just so relaxing/refreshing/energizing. Honey you should go to (place) the view is wonderful just wonderful. Well that is (new boy toy) calling me. Kisses. 

“You could never guess what I just did.” See I to- well that is a bad example but you will see.   “I am engaged!” Ok well that is not defanaly not the ordinary. I put the magazine down onto my mirrored side table.

“You’re engaged to Camren?” Last count I think that Cameran was the latest one to fall under the spell of my mother.

“I know darling isn’t it just wonderful, we both really care about each other and I was at Tiffany’s you know getting one of those ah-dorable little charms for my charm bracklet you know the one with the little doggie on it and Cameran was like “why don’t we pick out a engagement ring?” and that was that.” Hmmm… how to handle this? Obviously this is not a very well though out plan, should I tell her that she is off her Jimmy Choos and possibly never talk to her again (is this a pro or a con?) or just ride it out till mother gets her head back from the cleaners.  

 

“Mom are you sure about this?” I decided to just cut to the chase.

“Oh darling yes, it just seems right, you do know that Cameren has a house in Venice.” Not the answer I was looking for, okay, attempt number deux

“Mom Cameren is a fair amount younger than you.” Oh wait! Come back words! Oh shoot I have just said the mother of all curse word right under cottage cheese (not the best time to explain why, don’t worry it will come up again, it always does)

“Sorry?” She coughed. Oh man I was betting on her not noticeing, no such luck.

“How old is Cameran again?” finger’s crossed

“I thinking you are getting Cameren mixed up with Cole Camern is 67.” Whoa?! What in the name of Spanx is going on? My mother, MY MOTHER! Who married my dad who was YOUNGER! Is marring a man who is 13 years older? I am more confused than if K-Mart started making couture.

“Oh listen sweetie, Carmren and I are going to Tinntiny’s for lunch, kissy kiss.”

Author's Note

as you know I really wish not to hear what a sucky speller I am just tell me that it was wonderful! Just kidding!

Reviews

[Shadows of Sight]

Cute and fast paced. Very trendy yes. I think this has alot of potential. Perhaps a little more discription as to the feelings of the characters.

Other then that I think you have a great beginning!
Keep it up!