I wrote a novel at age thirteen, what did you ever do?
You know when you're watching the Olympics, gawking at these teenage world-class athletes, thinking What the hell am I doing with my life? Yeah, not me. Because I wrote a novel last year at age thirteen and that's enough to make me feel more accomplished than a gold medal-winner in London.
I'm doing this crazy thing called NaNoWriMo: National Novel Writing Month. That's right, a month dedicated to writing a 50,000 word-novel in 30 days. What's more is that November is my birth month. Happy birthday to me.
So I'm sure you're just dying to know what I'm writing about, aren't you? Here is the premise:
Audrey is an observant, opinionated, and witty 16 year-old, working at a public library. Through her time working as a librarian there, she discovers the beauty of human relationships, missed connections, and working with very eccentric people. As an aspiring writer, Audrey catalogs her insights and experiences each night at midnight over coffee with her boyfriend, Michael and her best friend, Stella, soon realizing that these small trinkets and conversations she's having with people are leading to an interweaving mystery all of its own.
This is her story.
Intriguing, no? It's a very memoir-meets-fiction-meets-mystery novel type of deal. I resist all labels and genres. So far I'm doing swimmingly, at over 2000 words on day one and documenting ideas and inspiration sources in a nifty journal of mine. It's fun and insane and stressful and exhilarating all at once, which is why I love writing so much.
It's weird to think that in less than 30 days I'll have a novel. Brain 'splosion. And hurricane Sandy almost interfered with that. Don't frak with the Trinster.
Also, I've been writing small couplets and poems lately like this one:
Seventeen, sexy, severing you soliloquy.
They tell me that I'm wordy,
That lisps are for the nerdy.
Not sure where that one is going, but I like it. Pretty brill, right? Happy November, kids and Don't Forget To Be Awesome.
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