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- KurzbeschreibungAristotle "Aris" Thibodeau is 12.5 years old and destined for greatness. Ever since her father's death, however, she's been stuck in the small town of Kanuga, Georgia, where she has to manage her mother Diane's floundering love life and dubious commitment to her job as an English professor. Not to mention co-parenting a little brother who hogs all the therapy money.<br>Luckily, Aris has a plan. Following the advice laid out in Write a Novel in Thirty Days! she sets out to pen a bestseller using her charmingly dysfunctional family as material. If the Mom-character, Diane, would ditch online dating and accept that the perfect man is clearly the handyman/nanny-character, Penn MacGuffin, Aris would have the essential romance for her plot (and a father in her real life). But when a random accident uncovers a dark part of Thibodeau family history, Aris is forced to confront the fact that sometimes in life-as in great literature-things might not work out exactly as planned.
- AutorMelanie Sumner
- VerlagRandom House LCC US
- Seiten304 Seiten
- Gewicht228 g
- LeseprobeExposition<br>I am always having it pointed out to me that life in Georgia is not at all the way I picture it.<br>-Flannery O'Connor<br>For my 12.5th birthday, my mom gave me a book called Write a Novel in Thirty Days! Subliminally, of course, Diane (that's my mom) wants to write a novel herself, but she doesn't have a spare thirty days. Already, you can see our family dynamic. I'm supposed to talk to Dr. Victoria Dhang, MS, LPC, about how I have to do practically everything around here, but Diane conveniently forgets to make the appointment.<br>"You're not that bad," she'll say, looking me over like I'm a jacket that's a little tight in the shoulders and frayed at the cuffs but good for another year. Therapy money goes to my little brother, Max, who merits weekly counseling due to his "unique sensitivity to the world," aka, dude hits himself!<br>Since there's no man in the house, Diane and I have our hands full co-parenting Max. Every Tuesday afternoon, we take him to the office of Dr. Dhang to work on his issues. "Dang, Max," I say. "Is it already Tuesday again?" He scowls at me, which makes him look almost handsome. He's big for an eight-year-old, with a teddy bear face and a Play-Doh belly. When he pokes his finger in his belly or counts the bruises on his knees, he gets a curious look in his eyes, like someone just gave him this body for Christmas. Definitely a new soul.<br>I am an old soul, which is possibly why my parents named me Aristotle, Aris for short. Yes, I'm a girl. What were they thinking! Well, they were hunkered down in this shack in Alaska, living off a bag of dried beans, suffering from light deprivation, and this baby (moi!) arrived. In my baby pictures, you'll see my bald head sticking up over the side of the empty chicken crate that worked for a crib. They had, like, no money. My father, the wild Joe Thibodeau from Houma, Louisiana, was a saxophone player. I have his olive skin, wavy hair, red lips, and violet eyes.<br>I'm short. I can reach the coffeepot on the kitchen counter and pour myself a cup, but I have to swing up on the cabinet to get the sugar from the back corner of the shelf where Diane hides it from herself. You probably want to know what Diane looks like, but she says descriptions aren't my strong point, so I may not give her one. She told me to stop giving my characters violet eyes and making everybody gorgeous. Excuse me? It's my novel.<br>Sometimes Diane thinks she knows everything about writing because she published a short story before she became an adjunct English teacher at Kanuga Christian College. The sign in front of the college reads, Transforming Lives Through Christ, which sounds like a good idea, but it hasn't happened yet
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