Blossom Springtime Weatherby Franklin doesn't know much, but she does know that she's tired of life in a small town. The unraveling of a lifelong lie sends her packing, fleeing as far as she can from her mother and her string of live in uncles.
Even if she only has what's left in her childhood piggy bank and one beat up rebel of a car stuffed to the brim with broken suitcases and trashbags, Blossom is determined to go the distance and start fresh far from the corn fields and familiarity of small town Indiana.
Through a hilarious series of unfortunate events and bad decisions, Blossom finds out exactly what she's capable of when she takes her life into her own hands.
I currently live in Munich, Germany, with my Egyptian husband and rescued street dog from India.
I teach content creation and theories of media at a university, run Happy Writing Co, drink too much coffee, and constantly hunt for dinosaur shaped office supplies.
I really love my intro. I can admit this book did not write according to my initial plans or my outline. Much like Blossom's journey, she took this book in to her own hands.
One thing I did want, however, was an introduction centered around whiskey. I wanted to open with something that can evoke a specific smell, look, and familiarity for many.
I also wanted to show that Blossom wanted more. She wanted to grow and knew the only way possible was to learn how to create her own life, even while she's still being haunted by the smell of her father's whiskey.
The Wrong Side of Twenty Five
I once heard if you’re lost you could easily find yourself in the bottom of a crystal highball glass after downing some sort of alcohol with a quick throw back of your head. I never expected to find myself in the bottom of a glass of whiskey — especially when it wasn’t my whiskey. But, there I sat at a red light, the smell of Jim Beam still dancing in my nostrils, my expectations for normalcy shattered, with a car full of vintage suitcases and trash bags tightly stuffed with whatever I could grab in one furious hour of yelling, screaming, and deciding it was finally time to move on with my life. Not the life they wanted for me. Not the life they thought I should be giving to them. Not the life I worked hard to build only to pass over out of obligation.