Yesterday I posted a picture of a dagger that I’d found and used as the inspiration for a weapon in my story. I asked my husband, who is a much better artist than me, to use the picture and create something similar, but unique. This is what he came up with:
I am sure other writers out there can relate to what I am going through right now. Last fall I reached 26,000 words in my first attempt at a novel and then I stopped writing. Finishing my degree has taken over my life, leaving me little time for anything else. Several weeks ago I began feeling the urge to get back to my book. I find myself thinking about the story, where it is currently, and where I see it going. I might even go so far as to say my characters are calling to me. They are anxiously waiting to see where I plan to take them. The problem is I simply do not have the time or mental ability to put towards it right now and I am finding that extremely frustrating.
Today begins week 4 of my classes–I am almost to the halfway point. Once these classes are finished, I have the entire summer off! That means lots of time to focus on my story and get back to writing.
So what am I to do in the meantime as my story calls to me? Well, I can continue to daydream about it, jot down ideas as they come to me, and hope the time away will be beneficial to the plot. My husband and I have started watching the HBO series Game of Thrones. Being a fantasy, it has also sparked my thought process for my book. After last night’s episode involving a particular dagger, I am unable to stop thinking about the special Elven dagger that plays a role in my book. The picture posted above was my inspiration for the weapon of choice. I am thinking about having my artistic husband draw something similar to use on the cover. See? Even though I may not be writing, my novel is often in my thoughts, waiting for the moment when life allows me to get back to it.
It all spiraled out of control. First I gave up on Nanowrimo. Then I made the crazy decision to go back to school and finish my degree. I figured it was best to put writing and my novel on the back burner.
And I really missed reading.
Fast forward a couple of months and I am almost finished with my first round of classes. I have finally worked out how to balance school work with other aspects of my life, including reading for pleasure. For the heck of it, I began reading through my novel this morning. Guess what? I like it!
That gave me the motivation to get back to work. I am under no delusion that I will spit out thousands of words each day and finish this thing in the near future. But I have the drive to start small, writing a bit here and there, moving at a snail’s pace towards my goal. That’s what it’s all about–keep moving forward.
Most anyone who is involved in the writing world (and many of you who are not) know that today was the first day of NaNoWriMo. As I have newly embarked on this writing journey, this is my first year making a stab at writing a book (50,000 words) in one month. I decided to be a bit of a nano rebel and continue writing my current novel instead of starting fresh with a new idea.
Since I’ve posted the following information on my nano profile, I thought I’d go ahead and share it here with you all in honor of my successful completion of day 1. The current title for my novel (subject to change) is Birthmarked. And the very brief synopsis is:
A birthmarked face leads a 17-year-old to a spelunking club, a tumble through a magical cave, and forces her to find her inner strength if she ever wants to return home.
So, what have I learned on this very first day? Well, most importantly I realized I can do this! My word count for today reached 2175 and I am beyond pleased with that number. But, the big surprise for me was figuring out that this entire month of November, the whole process of nanowrimo, is going to teach me discipline. I thought nanowrimo would motivate me to write. What I didn’t quite grasp before today is that it will help me establish a routine that will be useful long after the month is over. Maybe I won’t continue to write 50,000 words a month after these 30 days are over, but I will push myself to do more than I was before, knowing I can make it work.
Thank you, NaNoWriMo!
This is a short piece I wrote a few years ago.
~ C
Walking to the Moon
She tries to brush the tears away before they can be felt on her cheeks. Isn’t there some rule that says if your tears don’t actually spill over, then they don’t count? She attempts to take a deep breath, but the overwhelming feeling that she is suffocating doesn’t disappear. There is a slight pounding beginning in her temples and it seems to match the beat of her heart.
With her hands shaking slightly, she pulls the gray sweatshirt over her head and slips the windbreaker on top for an extra layer of warmth. Methodically, she pulls first one black glove and then the other onto her trembling hands. Next comes her most prized possession, the one thing that keeps her going some days–her music. She places the lanyard that holds her iPod around her neck and quickly pulls on her hat. Opening the door, she feels the cold winter air hit her face and she breathes in quickly to fill her lungs with the taste of freedom. Then, she heads out.
The woman has come to crave her walks like an alcoholic craves a drink. She loves what walking does for her. She anticipates the high that comes from pushing her body to walk faster, pushing herself to do something that she didn’t want to do at first, but that now gives her such a rush at the end. She looks forward to the time alone, having her thoughts to herself without anyone intruding. Sometimes she feels that thinking is overrated, but she’s still thankful for the quiet in her mind.
As she walks along, her feet quickly remember their role in this ritual. The brisk, night air makes its way into her nose. It stings for a moment, but she welcomes the feeling as it takes her mind off of the heaviness in her chest. Her breathing begins to quicken and she has to keep her mouth open in order to get enough air. Her tongue savors the taste of challenge, of hope, and of possibilities. She can feel the muscles in her neck and shoulders begin to relax and the endorphins flooding her entire body, leaving her fingers tingling. Slowly at first, and then with a sudden burst, a smile works its way onto her lips. This is where I want to be, where I need to be, at this moment.
The sun has already set, but there is just a hint of purple resting on the horizon, looking like it is taking a few final moments to reflect on the day. The woman glances higher into the night sky and notices the moon. There has never been a time in her life when she didn’t look at the moon and think it the most beautiful being, but on this particular evening she notices a large halo surrounding it. There are some thin clouds passing in front of the moon and the light coming through gives the appearance of a ring. It touches her deeply to see such beauty. She stops for a moment to catch her breath and to take a picture of the vision in her head.
Her feet begin moving again, following the same path they always do, taking her where they will. Her heart catches for a moment as a moving melody starts to play in her ears. The feeling the music conveys brings with it a special memory that she wants to hold onto for as long as possible. As her eyes move toward the sky once again, she sees at least a dozen airplanes flying overhead. At times it looks like they will collide, but at the last second they veer off onto their own path. I wish I was on that plane going somewhere…anywhere. The thought immerges clearly through the fog of worry in her mind. And then as quickly as it came, it fades away to rest where the remainder of her thoughts go.
She turns around and begins the all too short journey home. For now, that will have to be enough.
We are down to only 11 days until the craziness of NaNoWriMo begins! Just 11 days from the start of this huge undertaking and I have changed my mind. I’ve decided to be a Nano REBEL.
The official rules state a participant should start with a novel from scratch. I’ve been working on my young adult “light fantasy” novel for a few months now and have about 17,000 words down. I was going to be a good girl and follow the rules; cue the children’s mystery series I’ve been brainstorming. However, I wasn’t really feeling it.
After wandering around the halls of NaNoWriMo’s website (a.k.a. the forums), I found a group who call themselves the REBELS. These are people who are doing exactly what I want to do — continue writing an existing story and use that for the month of November. After seeing there were others out there like me, I finally felt my decision was validated.
For the record, I will not use the 17,000 words I have already written towards my word count. I will write an additional 50,000 words during the month of November. My hope is that it will give me the push I need to finish my story so that I can begin the long process of revising and editing.
Any other REBELS out there?
I’ve had a title in mind for my young adult “fantasy” novel for awhile now. I love it! It’s one word and has great significance to the story. My problem is another author has already used it. She’s stolen my title — how dare she?! Okay, so maybe she wrote her book first, but still. Her book is part of a young adult series (which I hope mine will be), but the title has a totally different meaning than mine would.
I know — some of you are thinking, “You haven’t even finished writing the book yet! Why are you worrying about a title?”
Titles are so important and I guess I just want to get it right. I want something catchy but that portrays the feeling of the story. It is difficult for me to imagine any other title working as well as the one I currently have in mind. Maybe I’m thinking too hard about it…
So, let’s put it to a poll. Help me decide what to do.
A few months ago my sister-in-law posted a challenge on Facebook. Write a short story using 55 words or less. This is what I came up with:
Tiny Astrid Ant grew up in a family of giant ants, who all treated her cruelly. Through it all, Astrid remained kind, stoic, and hopeful for the future. Her payoff finally came the day she was granted a wish by the powerful wizard Salvatore. With her wish granted, the toad turned Astrid into an anteater.
Around that same time, I encountered a writing exercise in the book Writing Magic: Creating Stories that Fly by Gail Carson Levine. The writing prompt it provided is bolded and italisized below. I decided to combine the two exercises and write a short story. Since then I have been working on it little by little. Today I finally finished. So, without further ado…
The Wish
Alison was the runt of the family, born small and ill-favored, and by the time she was nine, she was still small and ill-favored. But, let this fact be known–a braver heart could not be found in the entire world than what little Alison contained in her tiny body. While her family went through their days ridiculing Alison for her lack of size and
ability, her strength and courage grew more and more. For even little Alison had no idea of her destiny, until the fateful day when she met Howard the fish.
The day began just like any other with Alison avoiding being stepped on by her large family members. One as small as Alison begins to feel a bit invisible living in a household of giants. There in fact were many times that Alison was left home alone simply because the entire family assumed she was in the car for a family outing. On this particular day, Alison was patiently waiting at the dining room table for someone to pass her the milk so she could begin eating her porridge. When everyone else had begun digging into their bowls like starving beasts, she timidly asked a question.
“Could someone please pass the milk?” There was no response. Alison cleared her throat and attempted to speak louder. “Could someone please pass the milk?” In fact, Alison’s voice was so very quiet, not even her brother sitting right next to her heard her speak.
Alison was used to being ignored and knew she had no choice but to stand up and walk to the other side of the table to retrieve the milk herself. The milk jug was newly opened and therefore quite full and heavy. It took every ounce of strength for Alison to carry the milk back to her spot at the table. As her little arms began to shake under the weight of the milk, Alison spilled liquid all over the table and very little actually went into her bowl.
“Alison! Why are you making such a mess?” her mother screamed. She arose from her seat, walked over to Alison’s chair, grabbed the milk jug out of her hands and slapped little Alison’s face.
This scene might shock you, reader. Rest assured, however, that it did not shock small, ill-favored Alison. She was quite used to this kind of reaction. Her entire life thus far had been spent in the company of such horrid behavior. Kind words, patient discipline, and signs of affection were something Alison had lived without for her nine years.
As Alison sat at the table, trying to swallow the lump of dry porridge that appeared to be stuck in her throat, an unusual feeling came over her. She couldn’t quite put a name to this feeling as it was something she had never experienced before. She could feel her heart racing, heat spreading across her face, and the unbearable urge to scream. Do you, dear reader, know what tiny Alison was feeling? It was anger. For the first time in her life, tiny Alison was angry.
You may wonder how it is possible, after being treated so horribly for her entire life, that Alison had never felt anger until now. The reason is simple; Alison had a pure heart. She always had a kind word for others, forgave quickly, and never, ever caused others pain.
Instead of giving in to her strong desire to scream, Alison left the table without asking to be excused, a rarity in itself, and dashed outside. At first she walked in small circles, hands clenched tightly into fists at her sides. When she reached a point where she must let the anger out or surely burst, she opened her tiny mouth and let her breath do its thing.
Now, because Alison was so very tiny, and since this was her very first time being angry, her scream was actually just a bit of a yell. The words that came out of her mouth were, “I AM ALISON AND I WANT MILK!”
With the beast within her released, Alison began to feel a bit better. Her breathing started to even out and she could feel the tension in her hands leaving her body. She closed her deep brown eyes and inhaled deeply through her nose. She held that breath for a moment, thinking about how angry she was with her mother, and then she gently let it all escape through her open mouth.
“That’s better,” she said.
Alison decided to take a walk down to her favorite thinking spot, which happened to be a large pond behind her house. Finding the perfect spot on the lush green grass, Alison sat down, crisscrossed her legs, and began to think.
The first thought that popped into her head was that she was growing weary of living with her family. It wasn’t that she didn’t love her family. She did love them—very much! The problem was that she finally realized they didn’t love her. As you can imagine, reader, this was quite a difficult idea for little Alison to accept. She always tried to see the good in people, even when they treated her unkindly. Sadly, she could no longer deny that her family despised her.
As she pondered her situation, a bright blue fish jumped out of the pond in front of her very eyes. At first she doubted what she’d witnessed. Her doubt soon turned to awe as once more the lovely blue fish gracefully rose from the water and made its way back down with nary a splash. Alison waited to see if the fish would make another spectacular dive when he merely popped his head out of the water, looked her square in the eyes, and said, “I am Howard the fish and I am here to grant your wish.”
Tiny Alison was gob smacked. She never knew fish could speak! She wondered for a moment if she was dreaming. Pinching herself roughly on the arm, she realized that she was indeed awake. The fish continued to stare at her with a bored expression.
“I don’t have all day, my dear. Please be quick about it,” he said.
“You can really grant me a wish?” she asked.
“I do not speak lies! I said I will grant your wish and I shall. Just remember – you only get one wish so be careful what you ask.”
Alison started to panic. Out of all the possibilities, what should her wish be? She wondered if she should go ask her family what to do. She started to rise from the ground and then stopped. Tiny Alison knew exactly what her wish would be.
“Howard the Fish, I know what I wish.”
“Spit it out, child!” The fish was growing impatient. He started to swim around, his body itching to continue with his jumping.
“I wish to be special enough that my family will love me.”
Howard the Fish stopped mid-swim and looked at Alison. “I’m afraid I can’t grant that wish. You must pick something else.”
“But that’s what I wish! You said you’d grant my wish!” Tears began to puddle in the corners of Alison’s eyes.
The fish let out an audible sigh. “I know what I said, but it is impossible to grant that wish because you already are special enough for your family to love. Pick something else. Surely you’d like a lifetime of candy? Or how about a roomful of toys?” Howard the Fish seemed eager to make her smile again.
The tears spilled down Astrid’s face as she quietly asked the fish, “If I’m already special, then why don’t they love me?”
The earnest smile that was on the fish’s lips disappeared as he realized Alison was not going to give up. “Listen closely, little one. Some people are not good at showing their love. Some people were never shown much love themselves and they in turn find it difficult to give hugs, kisses, and say, “I love you.” And some people are so unhappy that they just can’t think about anyone but themselves. I have lived in this pond a long time and have witnessed how your family treats you. Now, come closer and look in my eyes.”
Alison did as the fish asked. “You are a very special little girl. You are stronger and braver than anyone I know! Despite how you are treated, you remain good and pure of heart. Always, always remember this: you are lovable. Now, tell me what you wish.”
Drying the tears from her face, Alison took a deep breath. She looked around her at the grassy field, the shimmering pond, and the tall trees swaying in the wind. Looking back towards the house, she thought about her family inside. Did they wonder where she went? Did they care?
“I have a new wish, Howard the Fish.”
“What might that be, child?”
“I wish to be able to see into people’s hearts and know how they really feel.”
A smile slowly crept its way onto the fish’s face. “Now that wish I can grant. But are you sure that is what you really want? Sometimes seeing inside someone’s heart can be quite painful.”
“Then I wish for the strength to see the truth in people’s hearts.”
“As you wish.” Closing his eyes, the fish gave a slight nod of his head. He opened his eyes and said, “I’ll be seeing you around, little one. Be good.” With that, he was off, swimming faster than a fish of his size should be able to swim.
Alison continued to sit in the same spot, wondering if she felt any different. After many thoughtful moments passed, she got up and walked in the house.
Her mother was sitting at the table with a faraway look in her eyes. For the first time, she noticed how tired her mother looked, and she felt the sadness and heartache rolling in waves from her body. Alison walked over to the table and placed a tiny, gentle hand on her mother’s shoulder. She did not say a word. Closing her eyes, she let strength and love pour out of her soul, and hoped that her mother could feel it. Feeling a large, hard working hand cover her own, Alison opened her eyes, and smiled down into her mother’s weary face. “I love you, Mother,” she whispered.
This is where our story ends, faithful reader. If you were hoping for a different kind of ending–the kind of happy ending where everyone changes and tells Alison how loved she is and they all lived happily ever after–I’m afraid you’ll be gravely disappointed. Real life is full of pain and sorrow and rarely contains perfectly happy endings.
Alison did grow up to be a most empathetic, loving human being, despite her homelife’s shortcomings. Her wish to see the truth in people’s hearts allowed her to be understanding and non-judgemental, knowing that how someone behaved did not always reflect the feelings in their hearts. Tiny Alison’s family continued to treat her as they always had and Alison knew deep in her heart that she deserved so much more. But Alison did learn to search for moments when her family showed their love. Maybe they didn’t say it often like they should, but she realized the tiny gestures—her mother making her favorite cookies, her brother pushing her on the swing, her father listening to her big news—these were all signs of love. She just needed to know what love looked like. Thanks to Howard the Fish, now she did.
Still not satisfied with that ending?
Then I will share one more thing with you, dear reader. When Alison was all grown up, but still rather tiny, she became a mother herself. All of the love and warmth she yearned for as a child, she showered onto her own daughter. And when her beloved little girl would wrap her tiny arms around Alison’s neck and whisper the words, “I love you, Mommy,” into her ear, she realized how lucky her family had been to have Alison in their lives.
The End
After a brief hiatus from writing while we started the new school year at home, I am forcing myself to make time for my newly adopted career path. It’s not that the interest to work on my novel has been absent. My problem lies with being spectacular at one thing: procrastinating. I can always find a reason not to write…
I have too much to do!
It’s not quiet enough.
My children are with me 24/7. (Which is the reason for the excuse directly above.)
My husband is underway and so that leaves me as the only adult. It’s difficult to concentrate if I have to be responsible for other lives, including the four pets.
The new kitten will not stay off my keyboard.
I have to check Facebook one more time to make sure I’m not missing something super exciting and important. (Sadly, this is probably the one that happens most often.)
To give myself credit, some of my excuses are legitimate ones. When my husband was around, I found my groove and was writing in the evenings while he had control of the house and the boys. With him being gone so much right now, I simply need to shift things around and find a way to get my writing accomplished each day. If I want this badly enough, I will make it happen.
Choosing Point of View
And now for the real topic of this post–choosing point of view. I continue to prepare for the month of November when I will attempt to write a novel in 30 days. I am contemplating which POV to use for my story. The novel I am currently writing is written in the first person. I find it easier to write in first person, but I realize I can’t write every story in the same POV. I’m thinking writing in some form of third person would be best for the children’s mystery I have in mind. Before I get started, I want to do some research on POV and how best to utilize it. This website has a great description of all the different POVs and the theory behind POVs in stories.
If you are a writer, how do you decide which POV to use in your novel? Is there one you prefer to use? And if you are a reader, is there a particular POV you prefer to read? I would love to hear your thoughts on the topic and start a discussion about it.
My first novel is coming along nicely. I currently have written just over 11,000 words with a prologue and four chapters completed. Even if I do not have this story finished by November, according to the guidelines of the program, I am not supposed to use it for NaNoWriMo. So, I have begun brainstorming an idea for the novel I plan to write during that time. My goal is to write a children’s mystery novel that will be part of a series. It brings together some of the ideas I’ve had roaming around in my brain for a few years now and focuses on teaching children geography through literature. I’m pretty excited about it. Well, except for the small fact that I have no idea how to write a mystery.
The first step for me will be more research! Here are a few websites to start the process:
How to Write a Mystery Whodunit Novel
Here’s a list of books all about writing a mystery:
Lastly, reading mysteries is one of the best ways to learn how to write a great mystery novel. I especially need to focus on children’s mysteries.
Do you have any helpful tips on mystery writing or have a great children’s mystery to recommend? Leave me a comment!
