Guest Post: Holly Day

Hello, everyone! Thank you, lovely Ally, for allowing me to visit again 😘 I’m mostly here to boast today. Each and every one of us should blow our own trumpet more often. You’re doing amazing things, and you deserve some praise, even if it’s you doing the praising.

I recently signed a contract for my 24th story in 24 months. I haven’t written them all in 24 months, but my first story published as Holly Day was released in January 2021, and since then, I’ve had one release every month. The contract I recently signed means 2022 is done! 🥳

It’s become a challenge to have a story out every month, and some, like this month’s story, are short. I would never be able to do it if all stories were longer stories.

On September 17th Dear Diary will be released, and it’s 35 pages. And some of those 35 pages are airy 😁

If you’ve read any of my stories before, you might know that I write in third person and most often double POV. Not this time. This month we’re celebrating Dear Diary Day, so I’ve written a diary.

The reason I write in third person and (most often) double POV is that I feel trapped in first person. I feel that I’m only telling half a story when I’m only using one person’s POV and that I can’t tell the truth (silly, since I write fiction and none of it is true) if I’m not giving both sides. One person’s truth is another person’s lie.

So when I decided to do a diary, I had doubts. Major doubts. Not only would I be trapped in first person, but I would also be trapped in first person retelling the first-person’s lies LOL.

While writing it, I had some moments of frustration. I felt restricted, confined, and reduced. But do you know what? I’m quite in love with this story.

It’s not like my others, not at all. But I think I needed a break from that, and writing this, having to figure out a way to tell a story without my usual means, was an inspiring challenge.

I’m back to writing third person double POV now. I’m not converted! But I’m glad I wrote this one 😊

Below you can read an excerpt, and I should probably warn you… There are more than a few bad words. The guy writing the story is suffering from depression and his therapist, Janet, has asked him to write a diary every day where he lists at least three positive things. And the dickhead is his boss.

Excerpt

Tuesday, September 13th

Dear Diary,
I think Lars works at the gym across from work. Either he was working or he was feeling some woman up while showing her how the torture device closest to the window works.
He was wearing black today, which is the smarter choice. You never know when some idiot will pour their coffee all over you, at least black disguises some of it. Sigh.
I think he saw me. He waved, but I pretended I couldn’t see due to the sun reflecting on the window.
It was raining.
Of course, it was raining. There I was, looking like a drowned cat, and he was smiling. Had I been sane, I would have waved back, but I’m not sane, and Lars deserves someone more… More is a good word. He deserves someone who is more.
I was late to see the cunt, seven minutes, but she acted as if I wasn’t. I wish I was a smoker, then I would have stood in the rain and smoked instead of walking in. I hate her office. It smells of citrus.
She insists I call her Janet.
She wanted to know how I found writing a diary, and I told her I was the next Anne Frank. Then I apologized because my God! How can I say things like that? So stupid! Anne Frank was hiding from the fucking Nazis. All I did was being spotted while hiding in the bathroom at work. Okay, they found me crying in the bathroom.
I can’t remember why I was crying, but it was nothing in comparison to the Nazis. No one will find this diary, print it, and be horrified about the way I’m treated. I bet Janet would’ve stopped reading by now.
They still whisper when I walk into the staff room, the bitches at work, not the Nazis. I’m sure it’s me they’re whispering about. Erin has always been a gossip, but Janet said I shouldn’t assume. Easy for her to say.
I asked the dickhead how long I had to keep seeing Janet. He wants me to go until I am well again. Well? Is anybody well? Was I well before I knocked my coffee cup over and soaked the notes I was processing and had a breakdown in the restroom? No.
This fucking world…

1. My breakfast coffee was okay.
2. My walking-to-Janet’s-office Caramel Latte was nice.
3. Lars waving through the window.