I am really glad that all the ladies I have told about the Princess Project have been very favorable towards it.
How did it come about you wonder? Two things.
First of all, was a blast from the past. All of last year was extraordinarily difficult for me. You know how when you are a kid you are so certain about absolutes that you would gladly rebel because of a cause you were certain was the thread that held the earth together. It could be the high school you wanted to go to, that boy your folks did not want you talking to, or as simple as that shoe you absolutely had to have. I had one such absolute. Then I found out that the world actually goes on when your heart is broken. Shocking!
To come face to face with my old absolute, and to realise that there was not anything particularly special about it, that got me thinking. One decision, just one little decision, could have changed my life forever. That scared the bejesus out of me. Seriously.
I might have been able to remedy a wrong, but the course of life would have changed forever.
I realised this sitting on a hospital bed after my lupus flared. I had my mother, my father, my stepfather and the ‘love of my life’ all at the same time hovering over me, each with their own reason for being there. Mum, because she loved me and just could not be anywhere else. Dad, because he had been caught off-guard but would be high-tailing out of any emotional tangles as soon as he possibly could. Step-dad, because he absolutely adored me, and was definitely going to claim his place as my dad, when I publish that book and become famous. There was someone else, you know who you are, and though you have never hovered, I know that you love and adore me, and I’m glad that you are in my life. And then there was the ‘love of my life’ – actually I don’t know why he was there, all I know is that it did not really matter much to me that he was.
Shocking, even for me, who is used to getting epiphanies between plotting to kill the lecherous Pastor rubbing himself against me in the matatu and thinking that I like the dreadlocks on the conductor’s head.
So it finally dawned on me why it was so absolutely important for anyone to resist making decisions in the heat of emotion. Marrying the rebound, selling the house after a death in the family, yada yada….
I know you want me to shut up and let you read the next episode of the Creekside Princess. This episode is dedicated to my mum, who has in recent difficult times become my best friend and plotting ally 🙂 She is also responsible for the name of the Project, because although we both hate soap operas, she is convinced that our life stories, mine and hers, could sell as a multi-million soap opera. Well, here you go, Princess Elizabeth…
2. Creekside Ethos
It was something between My Best Friend’s Wedding and Harper’s Island. The only difference was that my best friend was marrying the man I loved, and the decapitations were of people’s reputations rather than their heads.
Creekside was a really small town. It had retained both its name from colonial eras, as well as the same family names several generations down. Well, to be fair there was a steady migration of people from other parts of the country coming in to work in a recently booming tourist industry; beach hotels, time share villas, 4 star restauarants and hi-tech party clubs, as well as both marine and animal parks in the general coastal area, but most of them lived in the slum area generally called Mtomwandoni. The old families, however, lived along the creek in tracts of land that had been in their family names for decades, only separated by a long murram road called North Creek Road.
As announced earlier, you can help me tell this story by sending your ideas to firstname.lastname@example.org. What will happen is that your idea will help carve a subsidiary character through whom our main character will learn something on her way to being a Queen. You can also access the story by going to the page bar, click on Creekside Princess and then click on the story title then read on.