My name is Maya Sloan.  This is my writer’s website.

My novel, High Before Homeroom, will be released by Simon & Schuster Pocket Books next July. I’ll get back to you on the specific release date when I know it for sure.

My novel is a dark comedy about the Oklahoma Crystal Meth epidemic, with the Iraq war and some sex scenes thrown in for good measure.  The story is told through the eyes of Doug, a sixteen year-old outcast.  Doug has a hopeless crush on an emo girl who is way out of his league.

Admit it:  we all know about hopeless crushes.  And we’ve all felt like outcasts at some point in our lives.  Even if you were Homecoming Queen and head cheerleader and voted the Most Popular/Beloved/Beautiful/Brilliant whatever-the-hell in the entire history of your school…you still felt like an outcast at some point.

Maybe you don’t want to admit it.  Even to yourself.

Don’t worry.  You don’t have to admit anything.  I’ll do it.

So (insert drumroll and my complete and utter fear)…I’d like to show you my prom picture from the Oklahoma City Bishop McGuinness Catholic High School Class of 1995:

PromPic

See, you have nothing to be embarrassed about.

Up until now, I’ve only seen this photo accidentally when I was rummaging through our storage closet for tax receipts or something.  And (I’ll admit it)…on the rare occasion I got drunk and nostalgic. Nostalgia for a time that sucked is kinda weird, huh?

But now, here is for all you to see.  If I’m gonna do this site right, I’m going to have tell the truth about myself and how I see the world…well, if I’m gonna do that, I’d better just start with the thing that scares me the most…me, at eighteen.

Me with big hair (I loved me some Aqua Net), weighing more than 200 pounds, with makeup so thick it rubbed off on all my friends rented tuxes and fancy dresses.  I actually paid some lady at a salon for a makeup application.  The dress was hard to find.  The thing is, they didn’t make cute Prom Dresses for big girls back then, and all the plus size ones were fugly grandma-esque sequin numbers.  That was the least repulsive choice.

That guy, my date, was a really good friend.  But he certainly didn’t like me in that way.

But what it comes down to (and you’ll see, my new BFF’s, that I tend to ramble, and I completely understand your need to skim or just give up entirely and see what’s going on at Perez Hilton)…that even if you weren’t the fat girl, you still felt like the fat girl at some point.  Because being a teenager sucks.  Maybe you’re a teenager right now, and it is sucking.  Don’t worry, it gets better.  I swear.

Gotta be honest, though:  that feeling doesn’t ever fully go away.  I look a lot different than that girl in the prom photo now, but I still feel like her sometimes.  Often.  Because this is the real world, and all those spunky High School Musical kids and ambiguously gay Jonas Brothers and perfectly coiffed Gossip Girls (not that I don’t watch Gossip Girls, mind you…I’ve read the books too)…well, those are figments of some diluted Hollywood executive imagination.  And that executive felt like an outcast too.  Probably still does.  Trust me on this.  I live in  Hollywood. I know.

So, now that I’ve put all that out there…let me get this outta the way.  This is, ultimately, a writer’s website.  And I would love for you to buy my book, High Before Homeroom, coming out from Simon & Schuster Pocket Books next Summer.

And I’ll make sure to tell you of any events or readings or updates.  So that is that.

But what do you do with the rest of a writer’s website?

Well, I’ve been thinking about this…

I’m gonna use it as an excuse.

I’m gonna use this website as an excuse to do what writers like to do – though few writers would be as blatant about it.  I’m gonna meddle in stuff that is none of my business.  Get stories from strangers.  Ask questions and take pictures and shoot videos of the random stuff I see everyday and hope I don’t get stabbed or bitch-slapped or punched in the face…and if I do, I’ll tell you all about that, too.

This website is the world as I see it.  The world strained through my telephotoed-digitalized-popculturized-attentiondeficized microscope-periscope-mirror-prism.  Spyglass.

So if you’re interested, read on…



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