So I’ve decided to do the 30 Day Writing Challenge from to get me prepped for NaNoWriMo. Each day she sends you a topic to write on or POV to write from and a prompt to get you started. It’s great!

I actually wrote this first day’s challenge about a month ago. I freaked out when it wasn’t The Best Ever and haven’t touched my keyboard since.

Realizing how ridiculous that is, I’ve now come to my senses and will continue to attempt this awesome feat of creativity!

This will definitely be a learning curve for me so bear with me as I reteach my fingers how to put interesting things down in words. Give me as much feedback as you’d like! The more brutal the honesty the better.
Okay, not better. And please don’t be brutal.
I’m just going to post them as I write them – no editing!

Wish me luck, and I’ll see ya on the other side, folks!


The Dance

Day One of 30 Day Challenge – First Person
Writing prompt from

One evening, no editing.


Walking into the club I was immediately hit with a pungent wave. A sea of alcohol, sweat, and hormones enveloped me and made me gasp for air.

“Katie! Over here!”

Sara, barely audible over the crashing music and bodies, gestured for me to join her table. I hadn’t wanted to come tonight. Especially here. Nashville is a decently sized city, so the chances of running into someone you know are really quite slim. But I was tempting fate to be here at the bar where I’d met him.

It was hard to believe it had already been four years since we’d first locked eyes. So much had happened since then. So much history had been made. So much water under the bridge.

“I’m so glad you came! I thought you were going to ditch us again…”

It was hard not to roll my eyes at her.

“Well I had to do something to stop my phone buzzing. You must have sent me 20 messages! I was about to file a restraining order.”

Her nervous laughter splashed me across the drinks. Scanning the floor I saw a few more of our friends whom she had invited. Sara was always the planner. I don’t even think she took a dump without scheduling it in her calendar.

“So we’re going to stay here till one, then head over to Mocha for karaoke night! It’s going to be super fun.”

I seriously doubted that.

I nestled myself into the corner of the table facing outwards, so I could keep an eye on who was coming over. Not only did I not want to see him, I didn’t want to see his friends either. I couldn’t stand one more condescending stare or patronizing pat on the shoulder.

Everyone knew that he had cheated on me. The real mystery however, was with whom he had done it. I yelled and screamed for hours, but he refused to give me a name. This meant, obviously, that I knew who she was. I had tried guessing to see if his face would reveal anything, but not so much as a ripple passed over it. I eventually collapsed on the floor of my kitchen, wracked with sobs. He turned and left.

Sara and I had a few drinks, with people coming, chatting, and leaving us again. Eventually she said,

“Hey, can you hold my phone for me? I need to use the potty.”

I hated that she called it that. What was she, seven? I had half a mind to ask her.

“Yeah, sure,” came out of my mouth instead.

It wasn’t even a minute later when I saw his frizzy head of hair floating through the room. A good head taller than most people he was pretty hard to miss. Great.

I thought he had seen me, so I tried to sink into my chair and become invisible. His eyes skimmed over everything he was looking at until they rested on something to my left. Thank goodness. Apparently nature was calling him as well as Sara.

On a whim I decided to check her phone and see if she had actually scheduled her potty break. I probably shouldn’t have been taking a sip of my drink at the time because when I snorted with laughter most of it came out through my nose. She actually had it written there.

Potty break. 12:35

And then I saw what was written beneath it.

Bradley. 12:40

A river of rage coursed through my body. Her? Seriously? Her? How many times had we laughed at the way she orchestrated every outing, micro-managed every detail of her life? How many times had he hid behind her, pretending to type furiously into his phone whenever she was making new plans? I had to say something.

I didn’t know what I was going to say. Screaming profanities was always a good route. Not that those had really gotten me anywhere when we broke up. Then I thought of how satisfying it would be to walk in on them and say something really mature. Take the high road. Embarrass them with my superior words.

I stood up, straightening my shirt and flattening my hair. I wanted to look good while I drowned them in humiliation. Marching straight to the bathroom and ignoring the line up, I shoved the door open, catching him with his hands tangled around her body. I took a deep breath. Put on my best holier-than-thou face. Raised my eyebrows.


He shrugged his shoulders.

“She’s just so… punctual.”

The dam burst.

And that was the moment I decided some lessons were better taught with fists than with words.