The Breakout Bestseller Advanced Reader's Copy

A One-Word Title That Is Something Somewhat Symbolic: 

A Story of Star-Crossed Lovers in a Controlling Society

by M. Nelson and M. Reed (that means Michelle Nelson and Meridith Reed)

Somewhat Symbolic is debuting on this blog before hitting the NY Times' Bestseller List. We'll let you know when our first book signing is. And when the movie is.

Dedication:

To Veronica Roth, Stephenie Meyer, Suzanne Collins, and other AMAZING writers who have inspired us throughout the years. But especially to Veronica Roth. Also to all of our supportive friends and family who put up with us through hours of writing and brainstorming and drafting! We couldn't have done it without you! Love you all! XOXOXO.

Volume 1

My name is Katrisna, and I live in a controlling society. I can smell it. I mean, we can’t even eat hamburgers.

I watch Garret from my window. We call him Six because his name has six letters in it. He calls me Na. It’s short for Katrisna, which is my name.

I crave safety and simplicity so I love my controlling society. But now it’s come between me and making out with my boyfriend, so I’m getting pretty upset.

Stuff happens. (I’m describing this in the present tense just to annoy you and to make you wonder if I’m going to actually survive this. Don't you dare read the end first.)

A person who is significantly close to me (was it my brother? my cousin? aunt? parents? I don’t remember) is killed by the controlling society.

Now I’m angry.

Hold on. I need to make out with Six for a few pages.

Now I’m angry again.

End of volume 1

Volume 2 with another One-Word Symbolic Name

Hey it’s Katrisna again. Actually it’s not. Never mind. This is Six. I’m narrating this novel. So when my person-who-is-significantly-close-to-me--I mean close to Katrisna--died in the last novel, I got angry. Because I love Na enough to care when her family members die and I care enough to start revolutions with her.

Did I mention we’re revolting?

Hang on, it’s time for Na and I to make out again. She smells like soap and wind and safety so it’s pretty refreshing to make out with her.

Okay, back to the revolt. I don’t want to admit this but I know of no other way to explain my character to you so I’ll just say it: I enjoy violence. Does that make me bad? Does it make you feel a bit icky inside even though you still like me because I’m described as hot a lot in the last book? (Na mentioned that, right? I’m really hot. She did say that. Right? . . . right?) I think it just makes you feel more sympathetic toward me because of my honesty. I mean, I know it makes me twisted and a bad role model that I like violence, but I love it about myself because it also makes me so interesting, and you think so too. It’s deep, y’know?

But my society doesn’t allow violence. OR making out--my two favorite things.

That’s why Na and I can only make out when we’re hiding from the guards who are EVERYWHERE. It's like we hardly ever get to make out. Like, ever.

Anyways, where was I? Oh, making out. Shoot, did I say that? I meant revolting. Oh yeah. The government is getting too controlling. Yesterday they took away my Glock 30 AND my bazooka. Today, it was my hamburger. I’m done with this smell of control.

So I'm revolting. How, you ask? Well just read the

End of volume 2

(Cliffhanger or what?)

Volume 3 with yet another One-Word Symbolic Name

next book. It’s really Katrisna again. I’m picking up where Six left off. You might know me as Na. We decided to go back to my perspective so that we can write volume 3.5 from Six’s perspective and make a lot more money. You can't really tell we are different people by reading our perspectives anyway. That's because we are that much in love and united. Not because we don’t have fully fleshed out characters with unique personalities and motivations. This is done on purpose.

Anyway, we are really revolting. It’s dangerous and I’m risking my life for this, but it’s worth it even though I like the control because I’m young and I want to be free and no one understands. NO ONE! And if I don’t do this, who will?

But I never wanted to be this cuz I’m humble and I really just want some peace and quiet. Unless I'm making out with boys. I mean Six.

But now I’m this huge symbol of hope and I bring the smell of happiness to everyone so I can’t back out now.

Anyway, we fought. People died. I think one of them was my best friend? I don’t know. All I care about is Six. Since I started making out with Six all the time, I don’t notice as much what happens to other people. In fact, did I accidentally shoot her? Can't remember.

But I AM really self-sacrificing and selfless and other good things. Believe me. I just don’t have time to develop that side of my character right now. Because ACTION. VIOLENCE. MAKING OU---Never mind.

Yeah, so Six and I are building the world again because it was destroyed in battle. We're making children left and right. But our government will be less controlling.

At least until our kids get old enough to rebel against us. They do have a smell of rebellion.  

Tragic reflections for lots of pages. I hope you feel raw at the end of this because there were several hundred pages of violent and morally ambiguous situations that I just didn’t have the energy to type out. You try battling and killing and say you're not tired.

The end.

Oh that other character you love died too. That smelled like death, which is actually not that great of a smell.

The end for real.

Until volume 3.5 comes out.

"We can turn this mess around one beat at a time."***

Please place yourself in the following conversation. How do you feel?

Person #1: You know, I always wanted someone provocative and talkative*, but you? You're so not my type, but I'd actually catch a grenade for you. I would THROW my hand on a really sharp blade for you. I would take a bullet straight through my brain.* That would be really productive, and I would do it all just for you. Aren't I sweet?
Person #2: Oh that is so sweet. I feel the same way! I would gladly crack concrete falling down for you.* I mean, I'm not totally sure why, but I feel like a limb has been torn off because no one is ever going to love you more than I do.* Do you know what I mean?
Person #1: Yes! That makes perfect sense. It's just like, you know, your the gun to my holster.* Maybe like my pistol. Probably not the rifle though. You know what? What are we waiting for? Just take a bite of my heart tonight.* 
Person #2: Well, I don't know. After all, we are so fragile and our cracking bones make noise and we are just breakable girls and boys.* It's kind of scary.
Person #1: I don't care! I don't care if my bones shatter! I want to feel a car crash! I want to feel the capsize. I want to feel a bomb drop, the earth stop until I'm satisfied!* It is all about me anyways, and I won't be satisfied until I feel that excruciating pain or you are mine. Because you're the equivalency of pain. Also, not to compare you to a sick addiction or anything, but if I didn't have you, I would miss you like coffee and cigarettes.* What if, what if I had been born 50 years before you in a house on a street where you lived? I would still be outside as you passed on your bike.* Watching you. Wanting you. Loving you. It's fine.
Person #2: You're right. I love that you're not a creeper and that you talk so sensibly. Happiness is hitting me like a bullet in the back.* Yeah, that's how happiness feels. In fact, forget about cracking bones. I am looking for something dumb to do. I think I want to marry you.* I want you staple gunned right to my side all of the time.*
Person #1: That was such an attractively committed, respectful, and passionate thing of you to say. And you mean you finally realize that all those other guys, they wouldn't ever take a bullet for you? They wouldn't ever cut their heart out for you?* Maybe carved out with an ice-cream scoop or something? Because I would.  I would never let you choke on a noose around your neck.* Nope. 
Person #2: Yes. It is your summer sweat, and your summer sweat only that I want to feel in my eyes.* Just hold still and let it drip right in. That sounds nice.

Alright, alright. It is here we will extract ourselves from this conversation and give these two some privacy. Or maybe a mental check. Or maybe the whole world needs a mental check seeing as these lines are played on the radio all day every day, blasted from passing cars, jammed to while people come home from work, sung along with as the tune becomes stubbornly stuck in heads. I had no idea how violent and weird our society and pop culture had become, or maybe death and carnage and just plain dumb is the new romance. And this is only scratching the surface. 

The strangest part of it all is that I (and I don't think I'm in the minority here) never thought twice  about many of these lyrics, and I'll be the first to admit that I've been caught singing along and enjoying many of these songs myself. I'm as big of a pop culture connoisseur as anybody else. I seek out my jams, download them from the internet, pump up the bass when they pop up on the radio, and dance around the house with them blasting from my speakers.

It wasn't until I thought three times that I realized that there was a pattern in the lyrics of many of these songs. It wasn't until I carefully listened to and thought about the words that I realized that the imagery presented through the lyrics are quite a dichotomy to the message that is actually trying to be portrayed (however, let's be honest, some are just plain weird right from the start.). The sad part is that this is so ingrained into our society that this wasn't obvious to me. I actually had to think about it to realize it. No wonder people today are growing up confused as ever. We're being bombarded with the idea that love and happiness is equivalent to bullets, guns, blowing up, violence, sex, flippancy, nonsense, and disrespect. Or maybe I'm the one that's confused. Maybe graphically being ripped apart into a thousand pieces is happiness and romance at its finest...

How did we get here?

*The awe-inspiring song Lyrics. Just giving credit where credit is due.

• "I'd catch a grenade for ya, throw my hand on the blade for ya. I'd jump in front of a train for ya...I would go through all this pain, take a bullet straight through my brain. Yes, I would die for ya baby."  -Grenade by Bruno Mars
• "It's looking like a limb torn off, or altogether just taken apart...but no one is ever gonna love you more than I do."  -No One's Gonna Love You by Band of Horses
• "Speak slow to get through these words I couldn't say to you. I crack concrete falling down for you."  -Tongue Tied by October Fall
• "It's a beautiful night. We're looking for something dumb to do. Hey baby, I think I wanna marry you."  -Marry You by Bruno Mars
• "I want some one provocative and talkative, but it's so hard when you're shallow as a shower." -Curse of Curves by Cute Is What We Aim For
• "Oh, oh I want some more. Oh, oh what are we waiting for? Take a bite of my heart tonight."  -Animal by Neon Trees
• "We are so fragile and our cracking bones make noise and we are just breakable...girls and boys."  -Breakable by Ingrid Michaelson
• "I want to feel a car crash. I want to feel the capsize. I want to feel the bomb drop, the earth stop 'til I'm satisfied.  -Car Crash by Matt Nathanson
• "Of all the things I think I'll miss, there's staying up with you, coffee, and cigarettes."  -Coffee and Cigarettes by Jimmy Eat World
• "What if I'd been born 50 years before you in a house on a street where you lived? Maybe I'd be outside as you passed on your bike. Would I know?"  -The Luckiest by Ben Folds
• "Just because he loves you too, he would never take a bullet for you. Don't believe a word he says. He would never cut his heart out for you."  -Popular Mechanics by Beulah
• "I want you staple gunned right to my side all of the time."  -Staple Gunned by Spill Canvas
• "I used to wanna feel your summer sweat in my eyes."  -Break a Leg by Spill Canvas
• "I will hold on hope, and I won't let you choke on the noose around your neck."  -The Cave by Mumford and Sons
• "That girl's a gun to my holster. She's runnin' through my mind all day."  -Replay by Sean Kingston
• "Happiness hit her like a train on a track...happiness hit her like a bullet in the back, struck from a great height."  -Dog Days Are Over by Florence And The Machine
• ***"We can turn this mess around one beat at a time. You're killing me. Stop playing with this whole mirage and replace the music with hydraulic cars. I'd trade my first favorite ovation guitar if we could retrace the steps we made so far."  -Flop Culture by FM Static

There's an even longer list of wildly scandalous, inappropriate, lustful, and sexual media I won't approach today. I just stuck with the weirdo violent dichotomous examples for now. I think it's funnier anyway.

Note: Granted, many of these lyrics have been pulled out of context, either way, I still find them disturbing and senseless after listening to them with my newly-found critical ear.

Dr. WebMD Nelson

Current Symptoms:
I have a sore throat. I feel a little weak. I feel pretty tired throughout the day. My head is demonstrating a constant pounding. I sometimes get a little chilled. Sometimes a little hot. I have kind of an unexplainable feeling of offness. I don't always have a great appetite right now. I shared a dinner plate at a restaurant with my roommate and she feels ill too. I think she's the culprit.

Ongoing Symptoms:
I feel thirsty throughout the day and like to drink water. Then I have to go to the bathroom throughout the day. I have blurry vision before I put contacts in in the morning. I feel tired and lose consciousness every night for several hours.

I think I have mono combined with diabetes.

It's more than a burned blanket.

I came home from my adventures Saturday night to find my forgotten straightener left on atop my bed with my prized comforter died blue from melted plastic. I cried a little bit, and then I cried a little more as I kept thinking of it while I drifted off to sleep. You see, this went much deeper than the issue at hand. It was more than a burned blanket to me.

The past couple of weeks at my new internship at the hospital have, although  been extremely rewarding, been highly challenging as well. I work a lot with some pretty rough cases and very sad people whose lives have turned a complete 180 in the blink of an eye, and not quite for the better. These people are dealing with some pretty serious stuff, and it can become wearing at times. I have been feeling some pent up emotion the past week, just waiting to spill over. Apparently Friday night broomball didn't quite cut it, but a burned little comforter did.

Even still, it was more than a burned blanket and an emotionally draining internship.

One of my dear friends got married on Saturday. She had a lovely breakfast before the wedding, got married a couple of hours later, and had a reception that evening. I was one of her bridesmaids and was to be there for the works. I got up Saturday morning, got ready, realized I had left my wallet in my friend's car the previous night, and dashed out to pick it up before making the hour drive to the breakfast; however, rather than being at the breakfast within the hour, I found myself in my car stuck in a chain link fence three minutes later. As we all know, ice and brakes aren't very compatible, and next thing I knew I was going from deciding where to park once I got to the breakfast to deciding if I should hit the car in front of me or crash through the fence off to the right. The next thing I knew, I was frantically and pathetically trying to push my very much stuck car out of the snow and back through the fence in a nice bridesmaid dress  and curled hair with very much no luck.

I had no idea who's fence I had just demolished and no idea what to do. The next thing I knew, I had a rally of people around me, scooping me up and taking care of me, all working to get my car out. A friendly neighborhood man (he will heretofore be known as Mr. Rogers) heard the crash and was first on the scene. He tried all he could, but was also unable to get me much further. A friend of mine I had called in addition to a girl from my ward who also lives in the neighborhood came next. The four of us tried some more together, and made some phone calls. The next thing I knew, a friend of Mr Rogers showed up to try his hand as well. Still no luck. Despite all the muscles and brains at work, my car was high centered in two different spots, and would not budge.

The next thing I knew, everybody was insisting on staying until my car was out and I was on my way again, somebody had wrapped a blanket around me, and a tow truck was pulling my car out. The next thing I knew Mr. Rogers and his friend are repairing the fence as best they can, others are checking out my car, and my friend who just lost his job, was trying to pay the tow trucker who is only charging $20 instead of the usual $85 (my friend let me pay him back when I caught him). Next thing I knew I was back in my car driving away.

Unsure of the total damage of my car, I drove back to my home, uneasy about driving for an hour on the freeway. By this time, I had long since missed the breakfast, and I was not sure I would even be able to get to the wedding. Next thing I knew, I'm explaining what happened to my questioning roommates, and both of them volunteer to give me a ride before I can even finish the story. Never mind the fact that one of them had been throwing up and trying not to pass out the day before. Next thing I knew, I'm chatting with my roommate (the healthy one) in the car on my way to the wedding.

I got there with frizzy hair, slightly smeared make-up, probably a wrinkled dress, and 15 whole minutes to spare before the marriage ceremony began. The next thing I knew I was being embraced in my friend's mom's arms in a big hug as she asked if I needed a mom hug, even on her daughter's wedding day. The wedding was beautiful and the reception was enjoyable. The family of the bride let me tag along with them for the day and was so ready and willing to get me to where I needed to be when I needed to be there in my car-less state. My friend's uncle's family let me tag along with them after the reception and took me the hour long drive back to my home.

It's here that I found my straightener melting into my comforter, and it is here where I completely lose it. I'm exhausted. I'm overwhelmed. My muscles ache. My body hurts. I feel stupid about my car. I feel bad that I imposed on my friend's family on the big wedding day. And by golly I love this comforter and I've worked hard to take quite good care of it for so many years.

It's okay though, because it's more than a burned blanket.

Turns out it's also a mark of love. It's an icon of the good people that surround me everyday without me  even realizing it. It shows that there is so much good in the world. It's a sign of the love and support that good people lend at the drop of a hat. It's a symbol of a loving, watchful God that tenderly cares for us and makes it all work in the end, whether a stroke or traumatic brain injury, a car accident, or just a bad day/week/month/year/etc. It shows that God will love and help even dumb girls that can't drive a car, even really sick people in a hospital, even me. It's a reminder that I can be better and I can step out of myself and be that reliable instrument in God's hands. When somebody crashes, I can be the answer to prayer that shows up on the scene to lend them a loving hand. It shows me of how much more I could be doing, that I should be doing. What started as a mark of defeat has turned into a mark of miracles and opportunities bigger than myself, and I now look upon it with very different eyes.

Peein in a cup.

I had to get a drug screen today. Drug screens frequently require peeing in a cup. I had to pee in a cup today. No big deal, I've peed in cups before, but none of which ever occurred quite like it did today. After filling out some paperwork I didn't really know how to fill out, and then after waiting in the waiting room for a while, a young man no older than myself comes out and calls my name. I'm next. I felt real happy my peer is going to be holding my pee in his hands. Here ya' go! It's really fresh. It's got a nice little yellow tint. It's kind of warm. Knock yourself out with that. After playing it through in my head, I decide it's going to be a real ego-boosting experience.
 
He takes me back to a special room lined with little bity bathrooms on one side, and a long counter with sinks on the other side. It has a very sterile feel. The guy proceeds to act incredibly strange and uncomfortably awkward. He holds up a cup, with stuttered instructions to "fill it up to about here" as he points to a line. No further instructions. He spoke hesitantly, as if embarrassed. I wanted to ask him what I was supposed to fill it up with, but I decided I would spare him the embarrassment and started to walk toward the indicated bathroom as he says, "Just go in there aaaand uuuh...do your thing." Do my thing? Really? Come on, just say it. It's not that hard of a word. Pee, urinate, micturate, tinkle, take a leak, there are endless ways to put it. Pick one.
 
I walk into the bathroom, and "do my thing", barely able to fill the cup to the line and wondering what would happen if I dropped the cup or kicked it over on accident. Deciding that wouldn't end very well, I determined to be careful. Distracted by the fact that there was no flusher to take away the toilet paper, I go out to give the guy my pee-in-a-cup and ask how to flush the toilet. As I open the door and ask if I'm not supposed to flush the toilet, the door starts to swing closed, hitting my outstretched hand in the process, knocking the cup to the floor, distributing my pee all over the little office space. Oops. Not so sanitary anymore.
 
I kind of freak out a little bit, and I apologize over and over again while he's just staring at the mess with his jaw dropped to the floor a little bit. Both of us a bit unsure of what to do, I continue to apologize incessantly and pick up the cup. There is a bit of drizzle left in it, and he informs me that it won't be enough. Go figure. Unsure of what to tell me or what to do with me, the guy starts to put on gloves as he tells me to wash my hands and bends down to clean it up. Mortified, I tell him to stop and I will clean it up. It's disgusting. He tells me it's okay, and continues to just kind of stare at the whole situation. He humms and ahhhs a little while until he informs me that this has only happened once before, and it was his fault at that. Feeling incredibly uncomfortable and since he won't let me clean it up, I apologize again and ask if I could come back in a little while and try again. With both of us relieved to get me out of there, he agrees and dismisses me.
 
By the time I get out to my car I can't stop laughing. I'm a spazz, it's cool. I down 5 cups of water in 5-10 minutes. Forty minutes later, I feel the need to urinate once again, and I sheepishly and hysterically make my way back. Apparently all he needed was to clean up some pee for his day to break the ice, because when I returned, he was suddenly all jokes and conversation. I know, my bodily excrement is very becoming. Knowing this time that the toilets don't actually flush from the inside, I'm able to successfully make it through the process without distraction or spillage. Despite the fact that we both know that he will forever think of me as that girl whose pee he once cleaned up, he politely calls out to me as I'm leaving, "See ya' later." Really though, let's be honest, hopefully not.