Author's Note: This is my first published fanfic that wasn't about real people, so I can't make any promises on the quality, I only write for amusement, not ratings. That said, please review if you like it, or even if you didn't, but try not to be too harsh, k? If people like this little taster, I'll be more than happy to carry on. I'm planning on writing this in 'episodes', similar to the layout of Gossip Girl itself but with my own plots (although since I haven't watched much of the show, I can't promise there won't be similarities, but I'll try for originality).
This is only a short taster to see how things go, future chapters will definitely be longer, or at least more detailed.
The pen-name is inspired by a friend of mine who I promised I'd use it somewhere, so here it is!
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I never really imagined what would happen when I started my little 'service'. I mean gossip columns, blogs, it's all been done, right? We've all seen the movies, the tv shows, read the books, it's old news. Or at least the format is. But the stories? They're most definitely new.
It all started one Saturday afternoon, like most little plots do. I was bored, that's all, and I needed something to entertain myself. As always, my dear, sweet laptop came to my rescue. That little trinket's been a good friend ever since I got it, but this time? It was something between an archangel and Lucifer himself. Everyone knows that idle hands, a few connections and a connection to the world-wide web make for bad bedfellows, or good, depending on your point of view, but when you're the one taking advantage of the resources, something happens to you, and suddenly the adrenaline takes over. You *become* the news, not just the spectator, and suddenly the world is your oyster.
My name is Martine Post, or MagicPants to those of you who attend Grant University or read my site, and this, my friends, is my little slice of the action. When you live on the outside, even by the slightest margin, it's a double-edged sword. On the one hand, no one gets close enough to really let you in, which means you're often the only one not involved in whatever little drama's going down. On the other hand, that can be a blessing, because when you're the only one not involved, you're the only one the ones who are involved can turn to to spill their bitter tears of betrayal and heartbreak, and that's when you really have them. Sure, I'm a backstabbing bitch, but who isn't around these parts? We all know there isn't a single one of you out there who could look me in the eye and say you haven't told one of your best friends' secrets, or gone that extra mile to get what you want, I just don't beat about the bush. I'm not ashamed of what I do, far from it. I enjoy it.
So there I was, one Saturday, oh, 6 months ago? Give or take a few weeks anyway. I decided, bored as I was, to check my email, just to see if anything interesting was going on in our fascinating little world of tricks and treats, and boy was I glad I did. There, in my cluttered inbox, surrounded by all those pieces of useless information about grades and parties, was a piece of gossip gold. Stephenie Sykes, queen of the catwalk and all-round bitch queen, was officially on the Not list for the first time. Everyone knew there wasn't much she wouldn't do to get her way, but this time she'd gone too far. Steph was the ultimate in class - elegant, rich, beautiful, and popular. What she wasn't was smart. As if her grades weren't evidence enough of that, she had gone and done the stupidest thing imaginable for a student at Grant. She got her grades the only way she knew how, and she told her friend. This friend just so happened to be my friend as well, and that's how the whole thing started. You don't hear a piece of juicy info like that without telling your friends about it, and Emily did just that. Naturally, being the public-minded citizen I am, I had to make sure the others in her class knew about it, to keep up the esteem of those who had been out-performed by her of course. And so, The Daily Quill was born.
Two hours and three lattes later, I was sitting staring at my own freshly created website. Nothing fancy, just your basic old-world charm with a little new-world utility, but once I had my material on there, it would be just perfect. For now, that one little gem took pride of place on the front page, and I was watching and waiting to see what would happen. The link was already wending its way through the university email system, thanks to that lovely little service known as anonymous re-mailing, and by later that afternoon, everyone would know about Stephenie's escapades. This could get interesting.