Welp. Guess who's back after a protracted absence. Hooray! I've missed this. I'm in the middle of the end of finishing the writing of a non-YA series and I haven't had time for any YA writing recently, added to which I've had no ideas for YA writing.
And then, today, I got an idea.
It's not a new idea. In fact, it's a rather old and hackneyed idea. But, well, it's what I've got. My own satiric twist on the age-old princess-in-the-castle story. Surprise surprise, it's called Princess (Self-Rescuing).
Anyway, methinks the lady doth protest too much. Here's the first bit of the story. If you like it and if I have time and ideas and important stuff like that, I'll post more.
Greetings and Salutations. I am Her Royal Serene Highness, Princess Flower Gracella Leosebavayastopoloy of…
You know what, never mind. The point is I’m a princess and my name is Flower. My good friends—I have a grand total of two of them, and one’s a dragon—call me Flo, because I hate my name. I mean, really. Flower? Hundreds of thousands of perfectly good names in the world and my parents decide to call me Flower. Don’t even get me started on my title. If I had a nickel for every time I wanted to lose that handle, I’d be filthy rich. Well, I guess I live in a castle anyway, so what would really change, but I think you see my point.
Anyway, it’s that castle that’s the issue. You see, my parents are old-school royalty. My father rescued my mother from a castle guarded by a dragon when they were twenty-three and seventeen, respectively. Merriment ensued, boy married girl, boy became king, two kingdoms were united, and everything was hunky-dory. But I digress.
The main problem is that my parents think that any prince worth marrying will come and find me in my dragon-guarded castle. Okay, fine. Any guy tough enough and smart enough to out-fight and out-smart a dragon is probably a pretty decent guy. Unfortunately, I don’t think such a guy exists at this point in time. There have been three princes who tried to get past the dragon. The first one got eaten, the second got burnt to a crisp, and the third… well, let’s just say his armor’s probably a little rusty in places, if you know what I mean.
It’s not that I’m in a big hurry to get married and rule a kingdom. I’m not. In fact, I’d much rather remain single and live in a little hut with lots of cats. It’s just being alone with a dragon all the time that I don’t like. Don’t get me wrong, the dragon isn’t terrible company; he just doesn’t seem to be able to go beyond the topics of eating things, squishing things, and burning things. Obviously that gets kind of old after a few years. On the upside, though, I’m pretty confident that I could eat, squish, or burn nearly anything.
There’s another problem with this whole dragon-guarded castle business; I want to have adventures. I’ve never been able to sit still for more than ten minutes at a time. My singing voice sounds like a creaky bellows, which tends to drive all the local fauna away because their ears start bleeding. I’m definitely no Rapunzel, which is okay, I guess. I’d rather not deal with all that hair anyway.
I’m rambling again. Have I mentioned that I’ve been alone in a castle with a freaking dragon for five years? I’m absolutely dying for an intelligent conversation that’s not about eating or squishing or burning.
Tonight, though, everything’s going to change. I’ve finally managed to get my hands on a good pair of pants, some sturdy work boots, and a nice cotton shirt. I’m going to sneak past my dragon guardian and rescue myself. Her Self-Rescuing Highness, Princess Flo. That’ll be my new name.