A Post By Jonathan
In a recent post about his harrowing run-in with a rogue tornado, fellow Boarder Steve Kozeniewski mentioned that we here at Across the Board are more than just a bunch of bloggers: We are a community. I found this out big time when, in a recent fit of desperation to achieve my dream of becoming a published author, I reached out to all the accomplished writers here at ATB, asking for editing help, general guidance, and any other advice they had about the writing life. I received a flood of support-filled responses in return and couldn't be more grateful... Thanks again, everyone!
One of their responses included a suggestion to put some of my writing up on the blog so that other writers could see what they thought... Being the brave soul that I am, I said okay. What do I have to lose, right?
So, without further ado, I present what we hope will be a regular segment here at Across the Board: "Eeek! Put Some Pages Up For Criteek!" You hereby have my permission to shred/praise/toss/tout/completely rewrite the first two pages of my MG WIP, currently titled Mac Magellan and the Gathering of Galaxies.Happy reading. And be gentle!
Chapter 1Okay. I’ll just come right out and say it. My name is Mac Magellan and I hate outer space.
Why, you ask? How could anyone possibly hate the moon, the stars, the entire Milky Way? Well, I bet you’d hate them too if you had astronauts for parents and they had crammed all-things-outer-space down your throat 24/7/365 since the day you were born. And you definitely wouldn’t like it if you got shipped off to nerd camp —AKA, Space Camp— every time they had to go on some useless space mission, like the great ISS zero-gravity toilet install of 2015.
I know my mom and dad keep sending me to Space Camp because they hope all that junior astronaut training will eventually rub off on me, that one day I’ll want to explore the universe just like them. Well, Mars and Venus (they hate it when I call them by their NASA code names), it just ain’t happenin’ (they hate it when I talk like a Texan too, even though, as I always like to remind them, we live in Houston, Texas and are, therefore, Texans. I mostly do it to annoy them these days).
Even if I had any interest in outer space (which I don’t), I like baseball way too much to give it up to float around in a tin can for the rest of my life. Plus, I’ve been known to lose my cookies on more than one Space Camp training simulator… and on more than one Space Camp counselor. Who knows what would happen if I actually left the atmosphere? No thank ya ma'am. I’ll take green grass, fresh air, and a bat and a ball in my hands any day.
Of course, Mars and Venus wouldn’t know a baseball if it hit them upside the head— a theory I’ve been tempted to test out on more than one occasion. Needless to say, they weren’t happy at all when I told them I wanted to be a professional baseball player when I grow up. Sure, I’m only twelve now, but I figure if I get enough practice in I could easily be the starting pitcher for the Astros by the time I’m twenty-four.
If my parents knew that all I pretty much did at Space Camp these days was sneak away to play baseball, they’d probably take the first space capsule off the International Space Station and remove me from the premises themselves. Then again, probably not. They hadn’t made it to any of my Space Camp graduations, and I wasn’t going to start holding my breath now.
But what I was going to do was start working on my curve ball, and thankfully I had some friends to help me out in that department.