Almost nine years ago, I wrote my first novel using National Novel Writing Month as an excuse to indulge in my secret writing habit. Before National Novel Writing Month, every time I sat down to write anything that wasn't related to work or wasn't otherwise utilitarian, I'd experience a crippling thought: Who was I to write a novel (or poem, or short story)?
In college, I majored in English with a focus on creative writing. I loved writing poems and short stories until I took my first college-level poetry writing class. There, the professor read one of my poems as an example of how not to write poetry. Yep, that pretty much killed poetry writing for me.
So I turned my attention to writing fiction. I did marginally better in short story writing class than in poetry writing. My fellow students criticized me for using too many adverbs and adjectives, and no one really raved about my stories, but no one used my writing as a cautionary example. After graduating from college, I buried any impulse to write with the excuse that it wasn't a realistic way to make money or spend my time.
Years later in journalism class, I felt vindicated when my professor posted one of my assignments on his website as an example of how to write an observational piece. A few semesters later, I received an honorable mention in a writing contest.
But I stayed away from creative writing. During library school, you can only get so creative when writing a bibliography or research paper. And you'd better not be too creative in the world of academia. When I graduated in 2007, I promised myself I'd write stories again, someday.
In 2009 I learned about NaNoWriMo from a fellow homeschooling mom's blog. NaNoWriMo, which takes place in November of each year, is a call for writers to challenge themselves to write 50,000 words, or a short novel, in 30 days. How amazingly insane, I thought.
I read Chris Baty's book, No Plot, No Problem. Baty is the evil genius behind NaNoWriMo, and his book not only taught me how to tackle the upcoming challenge but also had me laughing out loud while sitting in the courtroom during jury duty. It also inspired me to take a chance and start my first novel on November 1, 2010.
In what's become a tradition, I've sat down at or just a little after 12:01 a.m. on the first day of the November to begin a new novel. I don't always finish my 50,000 words, but I do start writing. And at the end of some of those gloomy, chilly Novembers, I've finished typing the 50,000th word sometime before the stroke of midnight on November 30.
Camp NaNoWriMo takes place in April and July each year and gives writers a chance to take on any writing project they desire, including rewriting and editing previous NaNo novels. Each time I see the emails reminding me that camp is coming soon, I think I should take out one of my old novels and start the rewriting process.
This year I've decided to do it. The characters from my novels have told me if I don't write about them and finish what I've started, they'll go on strike. I want to finish at least one of these stories and eventually publish it, but I don't know which novel to work on first. So I'm asking my friends and readers to help me make the decision.
From about nine completed or almost completed novels, I've narrowed it to three novels I completed and show the most promise. At the end of this post, please comment on the novel you'd most like to see rewritten and eventually (I hope) published. I'll start rewriting the one that gets the most comments by April 1. And when I'm finished, I'll post it to my blog in serial form.
1. Legend of Merminia (Fantasy Romance)
Dystopian fiction meets the Little Mermaid in this story about a teenager who is sent with her twin sister to a mysterious planet called Earth.
Excerpt:
I found myself washing up on an unfamiliar shore. Waves crashed around me, deafening malevolent waves, intent on drowning me after the ocean did not. Salt and sand filled my mouth, making it impossible to breathe without inhaling grit, and when I could finally inhale, the air seared my lungs. Why did my people send me here, to this violent, unpredictable planet?
Just two days ago, I was living on my peaceful, green planet, having no idea that any other existed. My sister Gwen and I skipped along the path to our house, a light rainy mist falling on our bare arms and legs. We giggled as we approached our house because we knew our older sisters were planning a surprise party for the birthday we shared as twins.
“I wonder what Nyra will give us,” Gwenda said.
We stood outside the front door of our home near the shores of the Merminian Sea.
Green sunlight glittered on its surface, and flying fish dove and soared overhead, circling around the shore where the flowers that they ate grew in the shallow water. As I stared at the glimmering water, I tried to think what our older sister would give us. It would be something we would have to share, no doubt. As twins, most of our birthday gifts for the past 14 years involved a measure of sharing.
2. Bullied (Realistic Fiction - YA)
On her first day of 8th grade at a new school, Erin runs into her long-lost cousin, who promises to introduce her to the most popular girl at school. She also warns her to avoid a certain 9th grade boy. But Erin ignores her cousin and puts her reputation and eventually her life in danger.
Excerpt:
Move. Just move. That’s all I have to do.
“Sorry, honey, but you’ve got to get out.” My dad tapped the clock on the dashboard. “I’m late to work.”
Instead of opening the car door, I stared through the window at the sign on the lawn. The gold lettering -- Easterson Junior High -- glittered in the sunlight.
The engine roared. I paused and placed my hand on the door handle, not wanting to leave the safety of the car.
“You’ll be fine. I’m starting over, too. New job, new home, new life.” He sighed and patted me on the knee. “But we’ll both be okay.”
I flung open the car door and slid out like a blob of jelly. After I closed the door, my Dad waved at me and pulled away from the curb. I stood to watch the car drive around the corner, and chill spread over me. My feet seemed stuck in the grass, but I managed to turn and look at the school’s large iron gates and cement facade, which reminded me of a TV show I once watched about Supermax prisons. Kids clumped together on the brown front lawn, screaming hello to one another and high-fiving and hugging the friends. I wandered across the lawn, my feet brushing against dead, brown grass, to a spot a few yards away from the cement steps that led to the gate.
A girl with short blonde hair waved and started walking toward me. I looked to the left and right, sure she was waving at the group of kids standing a few feet away from me. But as she got closer, she veered in my direction. When she stopped, I could hear the bubble gum snap in her mouth.
“Erin?”
I squinted in the sunlight at her face. Had I ever seen her before? Maybe at the local mall where my Mom took me to buy a few new outfits last week. Then the image of a little blonde girl tugging a stuffed puppy out of my arms popped into my head. It was my bratty cousin that I last saw when I was three years old.
“Mandy?” I blinked, unable to trust my own eyes.
3. The Elder Factor (Science Fiction)
A young woman living in world ravaged by climate change and political unrest is hired to ghost write letters to the families of senior citizens relocated to a colony on the moon. At first, she is so happy to get a job that she doesn't think about why the people being relocated can't write their own letters. She soon learns the reason behind this and other mysteries surrounding the fate of the relocated citizens.
Excerpt
“We are almost there,” Shark said as they approached a tall, wide building with a white and gray crumbling facade.
Peg, who walked behind Emira through ankle deep puddles, looked up at the sound of Shark's voice. "We are near my apartment, aren't we?”
“Yep,” said Emira. “It is just that way, a few blocks away to the northwest.” She pointed past what was once City Hall.
Shark turned his head from side to side as they came to a busy street, full of various colored buses, taxis, and cars that sprayed water up and onto the sidewalk. He jumped back as a bus sent a four-foot wave in his direction.
“It is like a river,” he said, jerking a thumb toward the street. “And anyway, we can't cross in broad daylight this close to City Hall and Peg's apartment.” He cast one last look at the street, then pulled Peg and Emira by an arm and stepped into a narrow passageway between two brick buildings.
“See an enforcer?” Emira said, peeking her head around the end of the passage.
“No,” Shark whispered. “One of your friends from the office,” he paused for a moment. “It looks like that Phip guy I followed from your office to the pub where you met Rolf the other night.”
“You didn't say that Phip was there that night,” Peg said, her voice rising.
“Yeah, I must have forgot,” Shark said, smirking. “Sorry I didn't tell you all the details.”
Peg's eyes grew wide. “Do you think he was the one who killed Rolf and tried to kill me? I didn't see him the night in the pub, but it was dark and smoky in there and we were tucked away in a back corner.”
Shark shrugged. “We gotta keep moving. There used to be a tunnel that went under the street and into City Hall years ago. I wonder if we can get through it.”
Peg stepped around the puddles of murky water forming between the buildings. She gagged from the smell of urine, sewage, and other unidentifiable odors.
At the end of the passageway, they reached the sidewalk on the other side of the block. About thirty feet to their left they found a gated stairway that descended under the sidewalk.
“There it is,” Shark said. He looked in both directions before stepping onto the sidewalk. “Stay here while I try to open the gate.”
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