Everyone please welcome my first guest, Jeanne Bannon!!! I feel like David Letterman! Jeanne's new book Invisible is just out and the first chapter sounds wonderful.
Hello Jeanne. Your latest release is called Invisible. Where does the inspiration for this story come from?
Hi! The inspiration for Invisible came from two sources. My 8 year old daughter hated swimming lessons and one Sunday afternoon while watching her, I had the thought that I bet she wishes she were invisible ... and that how the plot for Invisible was born. The second source came from my own life. There was a time when I was bullied. I remember thinking that if I could just vanish - be a fly on the wall, then I’d be happy.
What was the hardest part of writing the story?
On the whole, writing Invisible was not really hard. I wrote it in four months and that included a few rewrites. That said, there were a few scenes I cried over. But it was in a good way. It was very cathartic.
Can you tell us about your research process?
There was not much research needed to write Invisible. It’s a story about a teenage girl who’s bullied and finds solace in her relationship with her grandmother and best friend. Most of it came from my imagination with a bit of my own life sprinkled in.
Do you feel that you grow more as an author with each book that you write?
Yes. As a matter of fact, there are times when I contemplate rewriting Invisible just one more time because I’ve grown so much as a writer since it’s been published. I don’t there will be a time when I stop growing as a writer.
To date, which of your own works is your favourite and why?
I love Invisible because the story is so close to my heart. The novel I’m working on now, Dark Angel, is pure fantasy and although I love the intricate plot, I don’t feel as close emotionally to the characters as I do to those in Invisible.
Do you have any hobbies away from writing that you would like to tell us about today?
I used to make jewelry. I loved using Swarovski crystal and sterling silver to make beautiful bracelets and necklaces but with all the promotion for Invisible and trying to finish Dark Angel, I don’t have time for jewelry making anymore.
Thank you for joining us today, Jeanne!!
It was entirely my pleasure!
Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Invisible-Jeanne-Bannon/dp/1466368756/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1318029462&sr=8-1
Excerpt from Invisible
Chapter One
“Lola, get your suit on and help supervise the pool. The more eyes the better,” Justine, the athletic, sun-kissed, twenty-one-year-old camp director orders once we’re off the bus.
Immediately my heart takes off in a sprint. “What? Why?” I try to hide the wobble in my voice.
Curious, expectant gazes turn to me as my fellow counselors wait with evil half-smiles for my reaction. Although I haven’t told a soul, except my best friend Charlie how I feel about wearing a bathing suit, they know my private horror. It’s the horror of every fat girl.
Justine flips through the sheets on her clip board, running a finger down the column of names. “No campers will be sitting out today.”
The impossible has just happened. Not one kid is sick, or has left their bathing suit at home. In my three summers as a counselor, not once has this happened.
For a long, awkward moment, I stand frozen in place wondering how to get out of this. A sudden migraine? My period? My mouth opens, but no words come. Justine leaves and with her, my chance for escape. I’m left teary-eyed, searching through my bag for my black one-piece. Stuffing away the panic, I march past the onlookers, who I’d never consider my friends despite working with them the entire summer. In the change room, I find an empty stall and with great reluctance, pull on my suit.
It’s my last day of work as a camp counselor at Inglewood Day Camp. My group of kids consists of eight six-year olds — four boys and four girls. On Thursdays we take the campers to the local outdoor swimming pool. It’s a short ride, only five minutes on the creaky old school bus and my job is to watch the kids who won’t be swimming, either because they don’t feel well, or they’ve forgotten their swimsuits. Believe me, this job suits me just fine, as a matter of fact, I volunteered for it.
Not only am I fat, I’m freakishly tall. God only knows why, since Mom’s petite and Dad’s on the short side. My older sister, Eva is the spitting image of Mom, fair and fine boned. I take after Dad’s side, bulky, dark and thick. Dad says I must have gotten some of Uncle Sammy’s genes, the giant of the family, who tops out at 6’ 4”. Anyway, I’m sure you’re getting a good mental picture right about now.
My insides drop as if I’d placed a foot on a step that wasn’t there when I peer down at the coarse dark hair creeping from my calves to just past my knees, where it gradually peters out. Then I run a hand across the tops of my thighs. The triple bulge of my belly prevents me from a good look at my sorely neglected bikini area. Even in the blazing August sun I wear baggy cotton Capri pants, never exposing more than an ankle. There’s never been a reason to shave. My eyes mist with tears, but I pinch them away. It’ll be hard enough to go out in public like this, but I won’t give them the satisfaction of seeing me cry. I lift my chin in resolve and open the door.
The whistle blows, signaling the beginning of the session. Screams of delight fill the air, as the kids begin jumping into the pool to find relief from the 90-degree heat.
I fasten a towel around my waist as best I can. Towels never seem large enough to wrap completely and comfortably around the bulge of my belly. To the pool I go, treading silently so as not to draw attention.
“Where’s Lola?” Sonia, a fellow counselor, asks.
At first I think she’s joking because I’m right in front of her. I toss her an annoyed look and don’t bother to answer as I trudge past to the edge of the pool, where I pull off my towel and slip into the cool water.
“She’s probably taken off,” Jerod replies. He’s a year younger than I am, but looks older with his muscular build and chiseled jaw line. The girls love him. “I hope she doesn’t show,” he continues, “who wants to see a hippo in a bathing suit anyway?”
Sonia laughs, a little too hard and places a hand on Jerod’s shoulder.
Puzzlement and anger compete on my face. I’m standing not more than three feet away from them. I’m used to rude comments and know what everyone thinks of me, but this is way beyond mean. The tears standing in my eyes spill down my cheeks and I slip under the water, hoping to wash away the evidence of my pain. Not that anyone would care, but crying could give them more ammunition; just another reason to taunt me.
Kids bounce around me, laughing and playing. Justine stands like a sentinel, looking like a Bay Watch babe in her red suit, one hand gripping an emergency flotation device. Her steel blue eyes are focused on the activity in the pool.
Jerod jumps in, nearly landing on my back. I barely have time to leap out of the way. My anger boils; blood rushes to my temples and pounds there, giving me an instant headache. I hurl myself at him, pushing with all my might, elbows aimed at his chest. I hit nothing but air and fly into the rough concrete wall of the pool, scraping a hole in my one-piece and rubbing raw a patch of skin. Blood pin-pricks to the surface.
“Hey,” I scream, bewildered about how he’d maneuvred out of the way so fast.
Jerod slips under the water and emerges at the other end of the pool in one long, slick glide.
The steel in me comes up, anger replacing humiliation. I pull my bulk out of the water and march over to Justine.
“Did you see what that asshole just did?” I bellow.
Justine brings the whistle that hangs from her neck to her lips and blows two sharp blasts, making my ears ring. “Stop horsing around,” she calls to a group of boys, who offer sheepish grins and stop instantly.
I step forward so she can see me. “Justine?” I reach to touch her shoulder but impossibly, my hand falls through her.
“Justine?” I call again, louder, my voice panic-laced. With both hands, I grab her, or try to. Again, it’s as if she’s not there. My mind is swept along in a current of anxiety. What’s happening?
Then it hits me . . . it’s me who’s not there.
All About Jeanne Bannon
I’ve worked in the publishing industry for over twenty years. I started my career as a freelance journalist, then worked as an in-house editor for LexisNexis Canada and currently work as a freelance editor and writer. I’ve had several short stories published and won first place in the Writes of Caledon Short Story Contest. My novels, The Barely Boy and Dark Angel were finalists in the 2010 and 2011 Strongest Start Contests. One of my short stories “Thom’s Journey” is part of an Anthology entitled A Visitor to Sandahl and is available at Amazon.com.
Invisible, my debut novel, is about a teenage girl who isn’t happy with herself and wishes she could disappear. And one day she does. Invisible is available on Amazon, Smashwords, and the Solstice Publishing website.
When not reading or writing, I enjoy being with my daughters, Nina and Sara and my husband, David. I’m also the proud mother of two fur babies, a sweet Miniature Schnauzer named Emily and Spencer, a rambunctious tabby, who can be a very bad boy.
