"Live Out Loud"
Amy's a hobbyist songwriter with big dreams, but not the usual 'making it as a musician' kind. No, Amy wants to honor her late best friend by finally starting the support center for teenage girls they'd dreamed of when they were just girls themselves. She doesn't know where to start, but when one of her songs becomes an overnight internet sensation she sees a quick path to the money she'll need to make the center a reality.
As white-hot pop sensation Misty Will, Amy finds a whole new world opening to her and realizes she loves being on stage holding an audience spellbound. She also loves how her young fans look up to her and draw strength from her songs, but of course they don't know the awful thing she did after her friend died and how badly she could have used a support center herself. She knows, though, and also knows that she simply has to leave her new pop princess identity behind and become Amy the center director as she's dreamed of for eight years.
Doesn't she?
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One of my favorite reviews for "Live Out Loud", by
Kelli of I'd So Rather Be Reading: "Like Wardell's other books, the process of reconciling dreams and the real world is the bulk of the book. I just love that about Wardell's writing. I always feel like I can really identify with her characters, and Amy was no exception."
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Excerpt
Chapter One
I roared into the last chorus of the best song I'd ever written, slamming ahead with everything I had to give, and wished I could stop time and stay right there forever. Being on that stage felt a thousand times wilder than the craziest roller coaster, a million times more exciting than sex, better than anything I could imagine, and I didn't want it to be over. Neither did my audience, from what I could see with the stage lights blazing in my eyes and refracting off my hot pink fake eyelashes.
But it had to end, of course, because nothing that good could last forever, so I sang, nearly shrieked, the final "Live out loud!", and the band cut off in perfect unison as I threw my head back in triumph.
The crowd burst into applause and cheers, and I shaded my eyes with my hand and grinned at them. "What?" I said into the microphone. "Did you like that or something?"
Further cheers, and I couldn't help laughing because I'd never felt so alive. "Me too, my friends, me too."
I turned to look for my cousin Blake, knowing what I'd see, and sure enough he had his ever-present camera up. I'd never understood how his girlfriend Evelyn could stand his capturing every instant of their lives on video, but then maybe as a blogger herself she didn't mind it. I would enjoy seeing a recording of this performance, if only to get a good laugh at my costume.
I blew him kisses with both hands, then told the crowd, "I can't thank you enough for being here. The best birthday present ever. But hold on for a few minutes, okay? I'll be right back. Gotta get changed."
They laughed as I tugged at the impossibly short pink miniskirt I wore. It had been Giselle's in high school, and I'd known I had to wear it to sing this first song. "Out Loud" was about her, after all, so I'd needed her up on the stage with me, needed her strength and determination.
Unfortunately, to wear her skirt well I also needed to be a good four inches shorter and ten pounds smaller.
Still, it had entertained the audience. I left the stage, wobbling on my unfamiliar high heels and grinning at the memory of their shocked faces when I walked out in the tiny skirt with a matching hot pink wig and a black bra showing beneath the sheer leopard-print top I'd found at a thrift store to tie the whole mess together. A long way from my typical jeans-and-t-shirt outfits, but that was why I'd done it. Tonight I was a long way from who I usually was and I couldn't have been happier.
Though I knew everyone was waiting, I gave myself one moment to breathe before changing and going back out. I'd sung in public before, but never like this. Never in a bar, never for an audience of over a hundred, and never for so many friends-of-friends and friends-of-friends-of-friends. Never on my twenty-fifth birthday.
And of course, never to launch my first CD.
I stood savoring the glowing warmth of finally finally finally reaching a goal I'd set for myself. It had been twenty-five years coming, but for once in my life I could say I'd done something I'd planned. I'd decided six months ago to make a CD of my own songs by my birthday and I'd done it. Tonight celebrated and commemorated it.
And next I could--
No. Not tonight. I didn't need to think about the center and how I would get it running tonight. This was my time. The goal I'd shared with Giselle, which I was at last capable of completing alone in her honor, could wait until tomorrow. She would have understood. She'd understood everything about me. I'd never have a friend like her again, and I'd given up trying to find one. The crowd out there were my acquaintances but only Giselle had been a true friend.
I quickly freed my head from the itchy wig and changed into jeans and a t-shirt then glanced at myself in the mirror. My hair tumbled about my face in a post-wig tangle, my wildly overdone makeup hadn't survived the stage lights, and my fake eyelashes looked ridiculous, but none of that mattered. My eyes were on fire, burning with a passion I'd never seen in them before. All that mattered was the music. My music. And the people who wanted to hear it.
I went out and shared it with them, and with myself, until my throat was sore.
*****
When I woke up after noon, I lay in bed luxuriating in the great memories, replaying the delight I'd experienced onstage and the hours at the bar afterward selling all fifty of the CDs I'd brought and giving out tons of homemade postcards explaining where to buy the music electronically and accepting endless good-natured teasing about my ridiculous stage outfit and congratulations and compliments for my songs and the party itself. My launch plan, which I'd spent hours on and reviewed so many times I knew it as well as my lyrics, had gone off without a hitch.
At the moment, though, my favorite memory was having included 'book off work the day after launch' in the plan. I was a barely adequate waitress at the best of times, and since I'd been up until five in the morning because I was too wired to sleep today wouldn't be the best of times, especially since Tuesday was 'Seniors' Day' at the Setherwood Café and I didn't get along well with seniors. Funny, since my parents were both in that age group.
I rolled over, snuggling into my comforter, and pulled my mind away from the job that made me money to instead think about how I wanted to use that money. A bit to live on, of course, but I had far bigger dreams for the rest. Giselle and I had dreamed of starting a center, a place where confused and lost teenage girls could find themselves and become confident women, and now that I'd reached my CD goal I would succeed at the important goal, the one that really mattered to me. Having made my very own CD was nice, but the whole point of the CD project had really been learning how to push and motivate myself so I'd be able to figure out how to make the center happen.
But at the moment I didn't want to figure anything out. I wanted to enjoy my triumph. So I did. I stayed in my cozy bed and relived my night until I was too hungry to stay put any longer.
Wishing Jason was home so I could beg him to get me food, I crawled out of bed and headed for the kitchen. Thinking of my absent boyfriend brought my mood down a few notches. Of all the times to have to go to Dubai for a meeting! I'd so wanted him at my launch party, but he'd said there was nothing he could do.
Sadness threatened to overwhelm me, but I started singing "Out Loud", right there in the kitchen, and my lyrics pushed it away. Jason would be back soon and everything would be fine.
Once I'd pulled myself back together, I made toast and microwaved some soup then fired up my laptop so I could check email while I ate and see if I'd received any more congratulations.
My inbox appeared, and I dropped my spoon into the bowl, barely noticing as I splashed my pajama top with tomato soup.
Six hundred and seventeen new messages?
If I got seventeen in a day, it was unusual. Who'd sent the other six hundred?
The first few seemed to have been written by monkeys with a few broken fingers.
That song rocks but teh others r crap.
can u giv me free cd? kthnxbai.
Pnk grrl, i luvs u.
But the fourth, while easier to read, was even harder to comprehend.
Gorgeous song and great performance. Please contact me regarding contract opportunities.
I didn't recognize the sender's name, but the signature referenced Griffer Records. How had they, one of the best record labels in Toronto, heard of me?
I didn't get that question answered until I'd waded through about fifteen more monkey-style emails.
Amethyst, call me. Call me before you talk to anyone else. You're going to be huge and Sapphire Angel is perfect for you.
The signature file said, "Jo. Sapphire Angel Music," like she was Cher or Britney, too famous for a little detail like a last name. But I was more interested in the email that had been forwarded to her, which she'd left in her email to me.
Jo, check out this video. We should grab her ASAP. Nancy.
I clicked the video link, which took me to a music blog I knew well since it belonged to Blake's girlfriend Evelyn, and was soon watching myself dancing and singing in that inane hot pink outfit. I'd hoped Evelyn might mention my CD on her blog but she'd never offered and I hadn't wanted to ask her to do it. She'd been home sick with a cold last night, and Blake must have emailed her the video while I was changing my clothes because she'd posted it before I'd even finished the concert, along with a link to my web site.
My web site. Maybe this attention would score me a few downloads.
Try a few hundred thousand downloads.
I stared at the hit counter for a shocked moment, then logged into the payment system Jason had set up for me and stared at the thousands of dollars I'd already received for downloads of my songs, mostly from "Out Loud". Then I checked my page on the do-it-yourself site where I'd published the physical CD and stared at multiple reviews saying some variation of, "That song rocks but teh others r crap." Then I stared at my kitchen table.
What the hell was going on? Did Evelyn have that big an audience?
I began an Internet search on myself, feeling weirdly egotistical, and soon understood. Evelyn's blog had barely two hundred followers, but her post had been reposted on several huge music news sites, and from there it had spread like glitter in the wind. Everywhere I looked, every music industry site I could find, had either the original post or a mention of its huge popularity with of course a link to the original.
I had gone viral.