Eve's Fan Garden

Today’s blog tour feature is called Invisible, by Jeanne Bannon! We have all sorts of fun stuff to share with you!

Let’s start with the cover of this book:

I love that cover! The colors and the font is so appealing to me!

But wait ’til you find out what this book is about:

Lola’s not pretty. Lola’s not popular. Lola wishes she could disappear … and then one day she does just that… For seventeen-year-old Lola Savullo, life is a struggle. Born to funky parents who are more in than she could ever be, Lola’s dream of becoming a writer makes her an outsider even in her own home. Bullied and despised, Lola still has the support of her best pal Charlie and Grandma Rose. Not only is she freakishly tall, Lola’s a big girl and when forced to wear a bathing suit at her summer job as a camp counselor, Lola’s only escape from deep embarrassment seems to be to literally vanish. Soon after, she discovers the roots of her new “ability”. Slowly, with Charlie’s help, Lola learns to control the new super power. The possibilities are endless. Yet power can be abused, too… Then, when tragedy strikes, Lola must summon her inner strength, both at home and at school. She has to stand up for herself, despite the temptations and possibilities of her newfound super power. A coming-of-age story that will warm the heart.

I am really looking forward to reading Invisible! (Scroll down to read an excerpt of Invisible!)

Check out the reviews on Goodreads for Invisible! Impressive!

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Although Jeanne has been in the publishing business for over 20 years, Invisible is Jeanne’s debut novel! We wanted to get to know Jeanne more, so we asked her to tell us a little about herself.

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.

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We are always interested in learning more about the world of writing. We often chat with authors or interview them and ask them lots of questions about the craft of writing. This time we asked Jeanne to share with us what her greatest writing challenge is. Here is what she had to say:

The Biggest Writing Challenge I’ve ever Faced

by Jeanne Bannon

I’ve been asked to write about the biggest writing challenge I’ve ever faced. I’m not sure I can whittle it down. I’ve have many challenges as a writer. As a matter of fact, I’m facing one right now. For the last little while I’ve been battling a small health issue. Even though it’s no big deal, it pulls me from my happy place; my creative place.

Whenever I have a problem or a worry, I cannot write. So, while I’ve had many struggles in trying to keep on track with my writing, if I’m not in a good place emotionally, I can’t write. Many people find refuge from their worries by writing but this has never been the case for me.

Time, too continues to be a challenge to my writing career. Since I have two kids, a full-time job, a house, a husband, a cat and a dog all needing me, it’s very difficult to find the time to write.

Writing for me then becomes the mix of two perfect ingredients, a happy state of mind and time. When the two come together, I take full advantage because one never knows when the next stumbling block will jump out from around the corner.

Thank you Jeanne for sharing your thoughts on the biggest challenges of writing!

Helpful Links:

Jeanne’s blog
Jeanne on Twitter
Jeannebannon.com
Jeanne Bannon on Goodreads

 

And now for the moment you have all been waiting for… Here is an excerpt from Invisible.

INVISIBLE

By Jeanne Bannon

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.