Jimmy Wharton has it all: good-looks, a room full of surfing trophies, great end-of-school marks and a beautiful girlfriend named Olivia. Yet despite seemingly living a wonderful life, Jimmy falls victim to a ghastly depression. At first Olivia tries to be supportive, but as Jimmy is sucked deeper and deeper into the vortex of his illness, the strength of their love is fiercely tested, and after the “bridge incident”, it may never be the same.
My 98,000 word novel I will not kill myself, Olivia is a chilling exploration of an illness that afflicts as many as one in five Westerners. It will appeal to fans of gritty love stories like Luke Davies’ Candy, dramatic coming of age tales like Donna Tartt’s The Secret History, and anyone who’s suffered from clinical depression, particular young adults aged 18-30.
First 150 Words:
I picked up the sharpest piece of glass I could find on the side of the road and put it to my throat.
‘No!’ someone screamed, running towards me.
‘Stay back!’ I yelled, holding out the glass.
The man froze, raising his hands in the surrender sign.
‘Pl-please . . .’ he stuttered. ‘Please don’t do this. Whatever happened . . . it can be fixed.’
‘What the fuck do you know?’ I yelled. ‘You don’t know what it’s like to be me! You’re not crazy! You don’t wanna kill yourself one week and chase hallucinations the next! What the fuck do you know? What the fuck do you know?'
'OK, OK,’ he motioned, patting the air. ‘I’m sorry. Just please don’t do this. Please.’
The crowd all tried to talk me into dropping the glass but once again I brought it to my neck. I pierced the skin, felt hot blood drip onto my hand.