Well guys, I’m still writing. Still fighting. I’m a little behind on my word count goals but I’m not giving up. NaNoWriMo is half over and I’m SO excited about all the writing I’ve done. All the early mornings at Starbucks, all the weekend hours spent typing on my laptop, all the Netflix I haven’t been watching – it’s all worth it.
Despite my failure to live up to my goal of 1,667 words per day (I’m currently at 23 thousand words when I should be at 25), I still feel proud. Two weeks ago, this novel didn’t even have one chapter. Now it has TWENTY-THREE THOUSAND WORDS.
I don’t write this to brag, or talk about how awesome I think I am. I write this post to encourage others to write their stories – to write about the characters that excite them, the plot lines that intrigue them, the themes that make their heads spin and hearts full. Because when you take the time to do it – and it WILL take time, and a lot of work – it’s amazing what you can accomplish.
Writing a novel is something that I have wanted to do for a long time. Ever since middle school, when I wrote a story called “Lulu: The Secret Matchmaker”, I’ve been hooked. To write the final scene and to leave your characters exactly where you want them – it’s an incredible feeling. And I can’t wait to have that moment with Life By The Stars.
As promised – here’s another excerpt:
I take a seat in his desk chair, and spin around to face him. “So this is your room…” I lead. “It’s very you. It couldn’t possibly be more you.”
“I like it better now though,” he says. “With you here. I like a lot of things more now.”
I find myself twirling my hair again and try to find another occupation for my hands. “And I like it here too. More than I thought I would, that’s for sure.”
“Yeah?” he asks.
“Yeah,” I confirm. “I didn’t want to move. Like, at all. But it’s weird. That seems so long ago. It feels like I’ve been here forever.”
“Maybe it was meant to be,” he says.
“Oh, it was,” I say with certainty.
“Yeah?” he replies, surprised at my confidence.
“It was in the stars,” I explain. “‘A big change is coming your way, Pisces.'” I quote. “‘Don’t fight it, but let the waves carry you on to your destiny.'”
He doesn’t say anything right away. “You believe in that stuff?” he asks.
“It’s always right?” he questions. I can see the skepticism in his eyes.
“You’re thinking about it wrong,” I explain. “They’re not right or wrong. It’s all about how you read it. I’d think you would get that, Mr. Literary Genius.” I motion toward his bookshelves.
“I guess I just find it hard to let someone else, or something else, tell me how to live my life.”
“They don’t tell you how to live your life. They tell you how to understand it, how to make sense of it when nothing makes sense.”
I can see him backing down. He’s not going to win this one.
“I never thought about it, but…” I pause, looking at him. “You’re a Virgo, aren’t you?”
I can’t help but laugh, just a little.
“What?” he asks.
I shake my head. “It just explains a lot.” Like why he loves books. And why he’s so sensitive, like at the pumpkin patch. And why he loves soccer. And why I find myself so unexplainably attracted to him. It’s a cosmic case of opposites attract.
Thanks for reading!