A First Look at “The Many Adventures of Fangirl”

Novel: The Many Adventures of Fangirl


My name is Imogen Goforth. I’m an average, semi-adult that suffers through being average and ignores being an adult at all times . I sublimate my ambition to be a warlock/pop singer/superhero by burying myself in my fandoms. Doctor Who, Zedd!, Star Wars, Teen Wolf, Prime: you name it, I squee over it. When I’m not spending all my time writing fanfiction and scrolling through Tumblr, I’m avoiding adult responsibilities with my BFF and evil mastermind Michael and baking “Sorry I’m an immature mess” cupcakes for my dad. Totally average.

Well. Not exactly. Because, as it turns out, those fictional worlds that I’ve loved aren’t so fictional after all. And, I’m getting a crash course in not-so-average that will either end up in heroic ballads dedicated to my prowess or my gruesome, untimely death.

If I survive, I’m so blogging this.


“Alright, seriously,” I blurted out. “This is getting ridiculous.”

He looked surprised, again, and I wanted to stick out my tongue at him. “I’m sorry?” he said.

“You!” I exclaimed, nudging Danny back with my elbow. Once again an expert at body language, Danny grabbed Bran and started yanking her up the open platform into the belly of the ship. “You with your freaking cheekbones and ninja sword. How are you even a real person?”

Kendrick glanced around him, as if trying to see who I could possibly be talking to, because I couldn’t possibly be this stupid to talk to a Scion like this. Fun fact: I was.

“I mean, all you need is a guitar and a v-neck t-shirt and you could lead your own underground indie band.” Man, I was going for low blows here. “With some weird-ass name like Sarcasm is Our Only Hope or The Dandy Lions.”

“Am I supposed to know what you’re talking about?”

“Not really,” I admitted. “I’m just trying to distract you.”

He smiled and did that looking up and down thing that usually made me feel objectified as hell. Apparently, that reaction was broken today. “Consider me properly distracted.”

Did a genetically-engineered assassin just give me a line? It was moments like this that I worried about my life choices.

“As well you should be,” I replied, and flirting back was probably not a good idea but I was winging this anyway and, good God, his mouth was shaped like a fucking bow. “So, I’m going to join my fellow crewmates on this ship, and we’ll leave this was one of those romantically mysterious encounters never to be repeated. This really should be happening on a moor somewhere.”

“A moor?”

“Never mind.” I backed up the platform as quickly as I could without gravity making this worse than it already was. “Just know that you aren’t nearly horrible enough to be Heathcliff. I mean, no one’s that horrible, but if this is a mysterious, romantic, once-in-a-lifetime encounter, I certainly wouldn’t be having it with Heathcliff.”


Published by Ren Martinez

Ren is a thirty-something Lost Boy whose personal aesthetic is “suspected of witchcraft by local villagers.” She subscribes to cheerful nihilism, the destruction of the patriarchy, and the belief that glitter makes everything better. She is a Richmond-based writer and performer who has fiction and non-fiction work found in a variety of publications, such as The Mary Sue, RVA Magazine, The Quotable, and Nostrovia Press. She is currently the fiction editor and a regular contributor at Quail Bell Magazine. She is also the co-host of the podcast, This F***ing Guy! Find out more at renmartinez.com or read her dumbass tweets on Twitter @itsrenmartinez

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