Getting closer every day…

Like Nelly said many years ago, it’s getting hot in here (98 degrees today in NYC!). And that doesn’t mean you should take your clothes off necessarily, but it does mean that my very first novel in The Treadway Academy series is coming out soon, soon, soon! The first story in this series, very loosely based on my own enjoyable/regrettable years in prep school, is about a sophomore who finds out during the course of a very rocky summer that having a celebrity parent isn’t as glamorous as one might think it would be.

More on the story later – and I may be linking to a free preview of the 1st rockin’ chapter on the site that my publisher is setting up for the series before Monday! My hope is to share a little bit about my own experiences in boarding school on the blog, and to confirm some truths about boarding school life as well as blow the lid off some misconceptions.

First of all, not everyone who goes to boarding school is filthy rich. Many indeed are, but some kids do attend via scholarship (as did yours truly) and some boarding schools are themed for science, arts & crafts, even religion. So while typically boarding school means knee socks, plaid skirts and a lot of brick buildings, that’s not always the case. At my school there was a definite rift between the rich girls and those who were there on scholarship – if you were attending on scholarship somehow everyone knew, and even though there was a strict uniform policy at my New England school, rich girls know how to show off their wealth even when they can only express it via their  earrings and fingernail polish (hello, Elsa Peretti and NARS nail polish, anyone)? I had the additional misfortune of being a boarding school brat during the nineties, when it was all the rage to dress like a street person but spend thousands of dollars looking like you mugged a lumberjack for his clothing and rolled around in dirty leaves. I recall one heated dormitory lobby pay phone conversation with my father when I tried and miserably failed to get him to send me money for a pair of maroon Doc Marten boots (he was willing to spend $15 on a black pair of boots from the Army Navy store in our hometown, but was absolutely not buying any footwear that had to do with the word “vegan” or had to be ordered from Burning Airwaves from London).

It was a hard pill to swallow when I was attending classes with girls who were frequently being pulled out of school for weeks on end to spend time with their families on yachts in the Mediterranean.

I guess by now it’s evident that I’m easily sidetracked, so more on boarding school later – but for now, how effing fierce is NARS nail polish in Pokerface???

NARS Pokerface

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