Fiction Friday: Annie’s Pissed
By Leslie Lindsay Still working on revisions here–so thought I’d share a bit of what I polished up this week. This is from my novel-in-progress. Here goes: “I shifted on her couch, a plump Pottery Barn reject from ten years ago and fingered the fringe pillow, braiding the strands into tiny cornrows. Jackie crossed her legs, revealing a new pair of shoes (three-inch orange and red color-block heels) and folded her hands on her lap. How can the woman not have varicose veins, I mused. I continued with my diatribe. I was pissed and I don’t like feeling pissed. In fact, the word itself made me cringe. My nose crinkled and the word came out all nasally. It’s not how I talk, and certainly not how I think. ‘Being pissed’ sounds uneducated and uncouth. But it’s a feeling, nonetheless. I shrugged. I wondered almost hourly what Steve was doing. Who he was with. What he looked like. It pissed me off. I wanted to fight these feelings away, tend to my own family, …