by Brandi Ziegler

Books want to be born: I never make them.  They come to me and insist on being written, and on being such and such.

  ~Samuel Butler

I’m nearly finished with my final round of revisions for Least Favorite Place. LFP is a YA Contemporary that I hammered out in seven weeks. The MC was that persistent. LFP is also my first first-person P.O.V. Her voice wouldn’t come any other way, and when I thought about her it was “I” not “she”. I had to write her story or she was going to kick my ass, the brat. Literally – she’s a military brat.

Here’s the opening scene for you to get a feel of her personality.

I was hoping my first outer body experience would not be happening in my least favorite place, but this is where it usually happens anyway, right?

I look so pathetic lying there. What’s with my hair? My braids are a mess. It wouldn’t surprise me if an anxious squirrel darted out, clutching a walnut to its brown, furry chest.

Beep… Beep… Beep…

At least I look peaceful. I wonder what the nurses think of me, with my high Indian cheekbones and strong nose inherited from my mother; my full lips and warm mahogany skin. There are a few features I hope they don’t notice though, like my giant man-hands and large, wide feet courtesy of my dad. Thankfully he graced me with tallness and I’m not vertically challenged.

Wait, why am I here again? Where’s Gabe? What happened? Why am I only covered in that thin blue blanket? I can tell it’s cold from over here.

Well, I have my own room and it’s surprisingly nice: three chairs, a wall-mounted TV, my own bathroom, curtains with yellowing lace anchored to the wall, brandishing my exclusive view of the majestic Sierra Mountains powdered with snow. Unfortunately this can only mean one thing: my parents are here. I can barely afford a comprehensive exam, let alone a private room in a hospital. Great. This is going to be held over my head for a while.

Beep… Beep… Beep…

I hate that noise. I hate hospitals, and I hate whoever did this to me.

I sound like my panties are in a knot halfway up my butt, yes? Well, allow me to divulge one of my first experiences in a hospital.


 See what a mean? Don’t worry, she’s very likeable. After a few weeks my husband had stopped worrying when I would giggle while sitting quietly with my thoughts. He knew I was thinking about her.

Anyone else have a persistent character filling their thoughts lately? Enjoy your weekend with them and happy writing!