As almost every writer knows, November is National Novel Writing Month, and many are closing in on that coveted 50,000 words as the end of November creeps around the corner…
How is your NaNo going? Are you almost done with that novel? Or have you fallen behind and are despairing? Do you feel that your novel is just too stupid and quickly-written to be any good?
I did NaNo a few years ago, and while I haven’t edited that novel or made it into a bestseller yet, I do find myself drifting back to its characters and some key ideas sometimes. I hope to use the material someday, even if it transforms, or even if I just take ONE character from that novel and use them in another.
In case you’re feeling like your NaNo might be too stupid to reveal to other human eyes, here’s an excerpt from my old NaNo. It’s a very crappy book, about a teenage baseball player who has to rescue his kidnapped sister from the dark faeries. He enlists the help of the traitor prince of the dark faeries, turned good, and fights an evil sorceress:
They were in the forest again. From the bag that Hephzibah had handed him, Dean dug out two sandwiches, a water bottle, and a belt. He handed one sandwich to Kenrick, tucked the water bottle in his back pocket, and slid the belt on. He didn’t need it, but he liked the buckle – it was shaped like a dragon’s head. Next to Kenrick in that black ninja-like outfit, Dean felt he needed something to up his own personal coolness factor.
Silently they treaded through the forest. There were no bushes, no swampy vines hanging around, just trees covered in green moss. They all seemed to be the same type of tree, as far as Dean could tell – skinny, tall as a palm tree, maybe even taller, with little to no branches. It was not a scary forest, with black bark or many shadows or branches that hung down like the arms of ghosts wanting to catch you and snagging on your clothes. But somehow, the forest still made Dean uneasy. It was so quiet.
So, to make himself feel more comfortable, Dean talked. He had never been a chatterbox, really; he more preferred to occupy himself with his PS 2, friends, baseball, and occasionally a game of Magic (which he was now wishing he remembered more of, since Kenrick seemed to be some sort of elf or something, and the enemies were some sort of evil faeries). He liked Lord of the Rings well enough, and art, and all those nerdy, creative sort of things, but not enough that he felt they were helpful to him now. He wouldn’t know what to do the next time a weird creature (camouflaged as a boulder, to boot) came along, unless Kenrick stuck around.
“Hey, can I call you Ken?”
The other boy turned around to face Dean. He looked a bit miffed. “First of all, I don’t care to identify with your aboveground culture, and second of all, my name’s not that difficult. It doesn’t sound stupid. You’re lucky I’m not named after my grandfather – he was Rxeatl Tora Hgurn Fairez Withel the Second.”
NOTE: Featured Image by Moonfreak
Until next time,