The Funnyman- Published by 17-Year Old Author Sophia Whittemore
As a seventeen-year old kid/teen/adult, life can be tough. You have a lot of things to deal with at once. You have school events to go to. You have sports seasons to play. There are AP tests, and ACT tests, tests just for the sake of tests, and all of those other things. But, beyond all that, there’s the ever-present threat of WRITING hanging over your head. I know all about this stress because, as Benet’s motto of ora et labora has taught me, I added another thing onto this extensive academic list: publishing the first novel in a trilogy.
After a Herculean ordeal of over a year of publishing queries, literary brawls, copyright-tiptoeing, and vanity publisher dispelling, I want to offer up some advice for other future writers from Benet Academy, or really, young writers in general.
- A lot of people are going to say you cannot do it.
- Refer back to number one.
- Refer back to numbers one and two. I REALLY MEAN THIS. There are entire blog posts and websites dedicated to crushing young writer dreams. They all mean well. The posts mostly revolve around letting young writers down easily. Their purpose is to “shield you from the harsh realities” of a world that the said bloggers assume you cannot deal with. And, to an extent, they make a good point. Writing is brutal. I have been told point-blank that my stories lack every writing device in the book. But, if there’s one thing to writing, there’s this…
- The writing world is a double-edged sword. One person can look at your work and tell you to quit writing. The next person can look and say, quite sincerely, “You’ve got something here.” I thought this advice was cheesy when I first saw it. I thought it was “cute advice”. It wasn’t. They really mean this. People are incredibly subjective. So, if you get a particularly scathing rejection letter…
- DO NOT DWELL ON IT. I know it’s in our DNA to dwell on criticism. But if you want to move on in the writing world, you cannot take every rejection personally. Trust me, I received a lot of rejections, but I also received acceptances along the way. There is still good in the world, don’t forget that.
- Get involved. No, this isn’t another cheesy line. I mean it. You have to go out into the world and put your writing out there. Find blogs. Find literary magazines. Find publishers. Start submitting now. There’s no reason you have to wait until you’re an adult. But, even if you’re older, there’s no reason to “give up” because you’re past a certain age. There’s no winning, lottery-ticket type age to write a book. There’s only a certain level of determination required until you finally finish page one and go, hey, I can write this! Don’t leave it until tomorrow.
- Write as often as possible. I set a writing schedule early on. Don’t write a paper alone and call that a good day. Academic writing is very different from literary writing. Unless you take creative writing as a class, you still need to practice outside of school. It’s like piano lessons or playing a sport. If you play that instrument only during the designated practice schedules, you can’t become as good as you wish to be. Practice seriously makes perfect.
- Keep an idea journal for when you find inspiration. Yes, inspiration really does happen everywhere. Nothing is too stupid to be written down. Well, within reason.
- You are your own writer. Don’t write for other people. Write for yourself. However…
- Seek support. Seek a writing community to really help you get out there and understand how to become the best writer you can be. Rome wasn’t built in a day, but it also wasn’t built by a single person. Writing, though it might seem like a solitary type thing, really does require other people. Man is not an island unto himself. He’s a bridge.
AUTHOR BIO-
Sophia Whittemore is a multiracial author with an Indonesian mother and a Minnesotan father. She penned THE FUNNYMAN during her sophomore year of high school at Benet Academy and published it as a senior. Her love for the English language manifested itself in eighth grade when she went to the Scripps National Spelling Bee and has continued with other languages such as Spanish and Indonesian. Her prior publications include “A Clock’s Work” in a Handersen Publishing magazine, “Blind Man’s Bluff” in Parallel Ink, and winning awards in the Best Midwestern Writing competition for high school writers. She currently resides in Chicago, Illinois with her family and food- loving mini schnauzer called Tiger. Drawing on inspiration from her two cultural backgrounds, Sophia lives a life playing tennis, traveling, and writing about her dual life experiences through other characters in her works or on her blog.
SYNOPSIS-
It isn’t a laughing matter when Diana starts to see things in the mist which other people don’t: monsters, gods, and deadly shadows. Yet now she sees another thing, the world of the Impetus, a reality where humans are enslaved and the once-beautiful gods are actually tyrants. Diana must find a way to escape before the exiled king Fear, a vengeful murderer, hunts Diana down to get back something she’s stolen from him. But will her growing feelings for the Prince Isak, the oddly sullen god of comedy, draw her into an all-out war?
EXCERPT-
I didn’t read the newspapers. I didn’t watch the news. But the moment Samantha Winters disappeared, something snapped inside of me.
I felt it in my body, in the thrumming of my heart. I could see her whenever I closed my eyes. I could feel her whenever I opened them.
But that was impossible.
I did not know Samantha Winters.
I only knew her name.
But all the same, I had visions of her terrified face peering through the darkness. I saw her open her lips and call out to me. Yet, as soon as I woke up, the visions would just go away. I’d hardly remember a thing. But every time I let my guard down, every time I blinked, I saw her terrified eyes. I couldn’t make sense of what I was seeing, but as soon as I fell asleep, it made sense again. The memories, shattered, fell back inside my head.
The mist came soon after the girl disappeared. I could see it forming in both my dreams and in the real world. I could feel the mist even if no one else saw it. I could feel the crystals dancing along my skin, cold and yet burning to the touch. I could see what no one else saw.
They didn’t understand.
****
After all, Samantha Winters was a girl, just like me. And that terrified me.
She was normal until one day, on her way home from a party, she just disappeared. The most noticeable thing about it — in the real world and the visions — was the mist. It had suddenly materialized all over her when she had gone.
A girl disappeared, and cold, dark fog had taken her place. Someone’s little girl, somebody’s sister or girlfriend, had disappeared in exchange for a horrible thundercloud.
It was a mystery, a case the police couldn’t even see, let alone solve. One minute, the girl was there, and the next, she had just vanished.
The police couldn’t find a single hair on Samantha’s head that hadn’t vanished with her. I learned later that her own parents could barely recall a detail about her from that day. Perhaps it was some malignant toxin in the air, causing their minds to fail them. Perhaps it was something far more sinister.
Maybe it was magic…
I didn’t get the chance to see Samantha; I never looked into her eyes and saw what was hidden there. I never even knew her, not in real life. Our only connection was a cold, formless dream world. I only ever seemed to hear about her in my head. And I listened and listened, to all those endless reports and warnings I saw every day, from people who didn’t know what was going on. Don’t talk to strangers. Don’t approach white vans. I tired so much of those warnings that, one day, I just tuned them out completely. I buried my nose in a book or turned off the TV. I ignored the visions completely. I was so focused on ignoring the bad signs that I was blinding myself to the real truth.
I should have paid more attention to those visions, those signs.
Maybe then I would have been prepared when they came for me.
But, despite it all, the trouble didn’t start with Samantha. It started with the mist and the strange boy it brought with it.
****
In the dark of night, Fear reigned.
Amongst all that slithered, crawled, or hunted, Fear thrived. It fed off all the evils and melancholia in the world simply because it could. Fear recognized that true power didn’t come from the gods. Fear was a god, and he remained nameless. Fear had no name simply because he was called thousands of them per day, on the lips of all mankind. To men, women, and children, Fear had his own, personal name.
Fear did not have the physique of a god; he was sickly, as fear tended to be, yet he stood at the height of three men. He remained in his own personal tomb. Denied the ranks of the Impetus, he stayed here forever. “Exile…” Fear whispered, so quiet that his lips did not even move. “The Impetus have seen fit to exile their own brother…”
Fear tensed, his imposing figure collapsing internally as his alabaster skin gave off a pale glow resembling that of moonlight in the darkness. His thin blonde hair hung down his back, his bare skin covered in scars that the mortals inflicted on him every day they called his name. Nobody wanted Fear. Everybody denied him a place at their table. Fear was written in the hearts of men, yet they denied him like he never existed.
Yet — in the hearts of those that slithered, crawled, or prowled the streets at night — Fear existed and multiplied. He just had to remind them of it, the mortals over whom he and the Impetus fought for governance. This hunt of his was meant to prove to them that Fear was the strongest of them all, to intimidate them whether he was a true Impetus or no.
He would reign over the mortal world once and for all.
The nameless one stretched his arms out to the sky, calling his shadows to him. The darkness coiled around him, settling over his bare skin and creating a web of serpents. He smiled with his lips still not moving, his black eyes unblinking as they took in the beauty of the darkness. His split tongue ran over his teeth and wiped the remaining flesh of his dinner from them.
“My children,” he sang to them, “Did you find the girl?”
The serpents brought in a terrified young woman, dressed in nothing but a thin party dress and sandals. Fear gave a scream so loud that the earth beneath him shook in terror. “No, no, no, she’s all wrong!” The young girl’s eyes rolled back in her head as she trembled so hard that she slipped into unconsciousness. Fear, in an odd moment of almost maternal care, cradled the young girl’s head to the ground, setting her to sleep amongst the silken, thrumming shadows. On the hemline of her dress was a shimmering, delicate name in gold thread: Samantha Winters.
“She is not her.” Fear whispered to his shadows, “Find her…find the abomination.”
The darkness fled to do its master’s bidding, and only silence descended. In the void, all that remained was Fear and the other girl.
The victim was alone with only Fear for company.
“I’ve already eaten my dinner. From you, my dear, I think I’ll have to pick something else to sample, something like your soul.” The girl wouldn’t prove much of a challenge for his teeth, the teeth so sharp, so cruel. “Then I’ll wash that down with your blood.”
She didn’t stand a chance. He relished putting his lips to her forehead, tasting her pure, unblemished skin. He held the girl upwards as her knees gave out beneath her. She shivered beneath his touch, her heart pumping faster with the thrill of the hunted. The light in her eyes faded slowly, like the light of a candle fighting to remain lit in a thunderstorm. It was so beautiful, watching her struggle. Fear had to take a breath. She was beautiful in the quiet, muted way of a mortal woman. But her death… It was indescribable. Watching her die was like art to him. And the taste of her essence, her mortal soul…it was the most intoxicating thing Fear had ever stolen. Her pulse quickened, her blood draining outwards through her lips and toward Fear’s own…
And then, all too soon, it was finished. He all but devoured her, from the inside and out, until all that was left of her was a shimmering silver S. He was satisfied in knowing that, somewhere out in the universe, a little light was dying. He was the cause of all that. Fear had another wonderful taste of what true power felt like, of revenge against the Impetus king and queen. And oh, what fools those Impetus had been, to exile him for offending the Impetus queen. They couldn’t tell him what to do. They couldn’t keep him from hunting these girls in order to find the one he was really after, to find the girl that would free him from his unjust exile. Every girl he killed was a just a means to an end, an end to Fear’s ultimate freedom.
“I will be free. I will kill every girl in the mortal world if I have to. Anything to be free.”
He lowered the girl to the ground, her purpose finally complete. The shadows writhed over her unblemished skin, dragging her body down to melt within the darkness. Fear laughed, his shining, white teeth lighting his whole face with a gruesome glow.
He had just killed a mortal being. Fear had terrified mortals before, but he had always pulled back before he could do any irreparable damage to their souls. Killing their bodies was not the same as killing their souls. It was so much more permanent, more deafening. He had been a good little Impetus, but now he had been banished and he didn’t have to play by their rules any longer. Fear smiled, exposing his red, gaping maw.
Somewhere, out there, was the real girl he was looking for. And this time, it would not be as it was with the last one. He would not let her leave him so easily…
Even he would have something to be afraid of.
****
Diana…
I shook my head, willing that strange, taunting voice to go away long enough for me to get some sleep. I was being stupid. I’d be thinking more clearly in the morning.
I grinned wryly at myself. You’re hearing voices in your head. Sleep must be way overdue.
I turned to shut off the lamp on my bedside table. The lamp’s warm, yellow light went out all at once as darkness descended in its place.
For now, I just wanted to sleep. I wanted to forget. No more voices.
FOLLOW HER AT:
RECENT INTERVIEWS:
https://authordeanlombardo.wordpress.com/2016/03/04/teen-author-sophia-whittemore-unleashes-debut-ya-fantasy-novel/