Introduction: No holds barred.

By: Lyss Williams

“Hi ninja turtle breath,” was the first thing my first love ever said to me. He was 4 foot 2, missing his two front teeth, and I adored him.

I was the only girl invited to his 6th birthday party – an exclusive screening of, you guessed it, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles II: The Secret of the Ooze. I don’t remember a thing about the party other than his gargantuan grin over the Michaelangelo action figure I gifted him. Score!

He pushed me on the swings during recess, picked me first in ‘red rover’, and kissed me behind the bookcase in Mrs. Kreszanski’s kindergarten class. Life was good and my heart was full. I was too young to understand what love was, but innocent enough to believe it was true.

At a time when adventure was a prerequisite to growing up and constant adult supervision was not deemed unsafe, I laced up my Nike high-tops and tucked my Paula Abdul pony-tail inside my helmet and peddled around the block in endless circles dreaming about who I would become and how I would get there. I plotted the possibilities and scenarios in my tiny New Kids on the Block-fanatic brain. I cycled through every question I could think up. Why am I here? How did I get here? What was my purpose? How would I save the world? Questions and thoughts far too abstract for a child to resolve. It was me against the world. After countless hours hugging the sidewalk with rainbow tassels floating in the wind, I had my answer. I had it all figured out. The meaning of life, my higher purpose, and the secret to life. Who I would become, how I would get there, and how I would save the world. I need to be careful here not to paint myself as a carefree hippie of a child – I was in fact a planner and worrier by nature. I relied on a schedule and always had a plan B. That was not the case though for my philosophical discovery of life. I had a plan A without an alternative. I would live the rest of my being with the answer to life and would be at peace at a very young age, having resolved the very thing that many people figure out far later in life, and sometimes never.

Love. A recipe of friendship, freedom, fun and butterflies. A care-free feeling that makes you feel alive and never fades. Love would be honest and real and forever constant. Love would inspire me to become the best human being I could possibly be. Love was how I would save the world. And so, I fell in love with love. Love was my Plan A. Period.

I have been hobby writing my entire life. I was bored in kindergarten, so my teachers helped me channel my energy and creativity (and probably my chattiness) into writing and drawing my own story books. I was a terrible artist with a good imagination. I’m not a great writer today – not even a good one – but I enjoy the process and feel at ease when I am confronted with a blank page.

Over the past few months, I have been working on a new story – one that I have been both excited about and anxious to write. Normally I would not share something unfinished and unedited (or even at all!), but we live in a world today where no holds barred. I can’t wait another minute to tell my story in the hopes that you can escape with me and remember a time when life was a little easier – or more complicated in the case of my first love encounters – and remember back to the days of endless summer nights, music cranked way too loud, lemonade stands, kick-the-can, and water balloon fights that almost always ended in someone getting hurt (sorry, Kirst). In what I am about to share, please excuse any typos and anything else that doesn’t make sense from a continuity perspective. I am writing this ‘live’ without editing previous chapters I am posting. I beg for forgiveness.

My story is inspired by some real-life events but is very much fiction. One day, when the world comes up for air, I will happily share with you the parts that are real (over a glass of cabernet). All names have been changed, but the emotions are real and inspired by people who have shaped me more way than they know.

Lastly, this project is inspired by some of my favourite music, which I will incorporate throughout my story. Music speaks to me. The good ones, in my humble opinion, tell some of the best stories. Perhaps like the bad elementary-school illustrator I was – I focus in on the lyrics. Each song takes me on a journey. To the best of my knowledge, no one has ever taken music and incorporated into a book the way I am about to. We listen to songs and play them out in our minds and perhaps even day-dream about what happens when the last beat fades to silence. That’s what I will do here. I’ll share with you my favourites and adapt them to a story that will allow the journey to be savoured for much longer than a 3-minute track.

Also – you may be better off binge watching Tiger King or whatever else is trending this week on Netflix. I wouldn’t blame you and most certainly wouldn’t judge. All I ask is please remember that reading is important, and words fuel our imagination. My job is to tell the story, but you bring it to life the way you want to see it. Nothing can replace that.

Life is short, so here goes nothing.

I dedicate this to you. ~