I have no idea why this story has grabbed me and insisted on being told, but it has. I am now certain of just what LMNN is, and why; I think I know how the story is going to go. But we’ll see.
Thus, I feel the need to inflict the first few paragraphs on you. I’m not 100% happy with it yet – the use of “exasperated,” for example, probably needs to be adjusted to fit the voice I’m looking for, even though with what I know the word is certainly in LMNN’s vocabulary – but it’s there, just needs some polishing I think.
Excerpt follows; let me know what you folks think.
Most other kids are made with love and happiness; I got here from sadness. Most other kids have mommies and daddies; my daddy went away a long time ago. But I’ve had lots of mommies. Most other kids have names, something their mommy and daddy gave them that’s just theirs, something that tells them who they are… But not me. I’m just Little Miss No Name, always looking for a mommy who loves me, who’ll tell me who I am, who’ll give me a name and make me happy like the other little girls.
One of my mommies almost gave me a name. She found me in a dumpster, where I was playing hide and seek with my friend Oscar. Oscar was a bug, a big crunchy one who liked to crawl in my hair and chew on my fingers. He wasn’t very nice, but at least he knew I was there. Then Shirley saw me, cried out to her own mommy.
“Momma! There’s a doll in the trash!”
“Honey, leave that alone. You don’t know where it’s been.”
The mother sounds tired, exasperated. She’s not even really paying attention. I don’t like her. It reminds me of my first mommy, how she forgot about me and left me behind in the hot place. I bet she drinks the brown stuff from the big, smelly bottles, and gets mad when she does.