NaNoWriMo: Accomplished!
I reached just over 53,000 words in 28 days. Not too shabby!
So what does this mean now? Well, aside from officially getting to post the neat little picture to the left, I have a new (mostly completed) manuscript.
To pitch this novel to the publishers I’m aiming for, I will end up with around 70,000 words, so I’m going to keep my pace and get the rest finished. Then, polishing and pitching time!
What did I learn? I re-learned my love of writing. After spending years writing, rewriting, editing and tweaking In Dawn’s Shadows, I’m a little sick of that process. So letting the creative juices flow for this new project was a true relief. This acted as a nice respite from In Dawn’s Shadows as well.
So, off I go to write write write some more. I can’t wait for next November!!
Read MoreBook Review: The Blind Assassin
A novel within a novel, within a novel…within a novel. Only Margaret Atwood could do this. That’s my conclusion, at least.
Published in 200 by Anchor Books, The Blind Assassin, is a book with countless different dynamics and unexpected twists. To be completely honest, I didn’t like the book for a long time and forced myself to continue to the end. By the last few chapters, as all the pieces came to a beautiful fit, I realized the true genius of the book.
The characters are well described and very real. So real, they are almost unlikeable. The antagonists of the book are extra unbearable and I found myself actually shocked at the brutality at some points.
The narrator for one part of the novel is elderly Iris, who is writing her memoirs. The parts with her in present day are laboriously slow and overly descriptive, which seems to match the mobility of the character. Her flashbacks (in the memoir) are more fast paced and interesting. Then, the novel “The Blind Assassin,” written by her sister, Laura, is intertwined with the story. Within the Blind Assassin, the male character weaves his own stories, science fiction in the 40s.
The language and ideas are wonderful and the way it all comes together are golden, if you are able to persevere through the first half, which can get dull, confusing and irritating. The main character’s flaws bothered me for a long time, but she redeemed herself later on, thankfully.
Overall, this is a book worth reading and contemplating. After you forget the chore of getting the final chapters, you will revel in the masterpiece of the story.
Read MoreConfessions of a Book-aholic
Goodness, I love the feel of new books. I love the smooth binding, the crisp, fresh off the printer smell, the silky pages and how easily they flip under your fingertips…
Walking around a bookstore gives me a high, a sense of wonderment unlike any other. I can’t help it, can’t stop walking down each aisle, even if I would never purchase a book out of that section.
Hello, my name is Nicole, and I’m a book-aholic.
Seriously. I am. There are three shelves in my home office with books piled high, in somewhat alphabetic order. I’ve got twenty or so I still haven’t read…but I keep buying more!
The shiny covers, the eye-catching designs – products of years, endless hours of author’s toiling. Every part of the bookstores draw me in. Don’t get me wrong, I love used bookstores and all the treasures you find there. But there is simply nothing that compares to the neatly arranged shelves of a Barnes and Noble or Borders.
Sure, I enjoy shoe shopping and certainly purse shopping, but nothing quite competes with a bookstore. If I’m having a down week, I just go to browse and maybe snatch an inexpensive book or two.
I’m sure there’s no real cure for my obsession, but it is healthy, in a way. Every time I go, I imagine seeing my own name or my close writer friends’ names on those shelves and I feel the inspiration and the motivation to keep plugging along.
So what do you think? Is there a store or particular setting that just gets your heart fluttering? Or am I hopelessly alone in this addiction?
Read MoreNaNoWriMo Update
At more than 37,000 words in my National Novel Writing Month project, I get the inpsiration to expand my plot, add this, add that…So I imagine this will be much, much longer than the 50,000 words for November.
Thus, I know this will not be “finished” by November 30. But I am excited for this project and I’m so excited to see all my other writer buddies doing well with their manuscripts as well.
I know it sounds silly, but I’m already looking forward to next November! 
Past the 30,000 mark!
In efforts to avoid working on the much-needed editing of my other WIP, I have been getting lots of “NaNo-ing” done. I passed the 30,000-word mark today and am getting to the “good” parts of the novel. Things are moving faster, emotions higher, much more at stake…
I realize I haven’t posted much about this book, so here is an excerpt for you!
So Far From Home: PROLOGUE - 1931
“Madeline! Wait!”
Twelve-year-old Madeline Barker pushed through the brush of the apple orchard and ran as fast as her legs would carry her. Her heart raced, not from the sprint, but at the news she’d received.
This isn’t fair.
“Madeline?”
She reached Apple Creek and came to a stop. Her pursuers came up behind her, both panting.
“What’s going on?” one of the boys asked.
Madeline crossed her arms and swung around, glaring at her brother. “Did Mama and Papa discuss any of this with you?”
Patrick blinked and shook his head. “What are you talking about?”
Madeline shot a glance at the neighbor boy and her dear friend, Ethan. “Did you?”
Ethan’s dusty blond hair had remnants of apple tree leaves. He lifted both hands and spoke between breaths. “No. What’s going on?”
She stomped and cried out. This couldn’t be happening. There was a way out of this. There must be. But then, that is what she thought a few weeks ago when Mama first brought it up. It had to be a joke, she’d thought.
Madeline sank to a large boulder and bit her lip. She wanted to cry, but there were no tears. Only rage.
The boys shifted nervously behind her.
“Is this about the tractor?” Ethan asked.
“I told you we shouldn’t have done that,” Patrick hissed.
Ethan slugged Patrick in the shoulder. “You dared me.”
Actually, Madeline had dared Ethan. She tossed a glare over her shoulder. Stupid tractor. The little stunt certainly didn’t help. They hadn’t intended to get Mr. Daily’s old farm tractor stuck in the swamp. He shouldn’t have left the keys in it.
“No, it’s not about the tractor.”
Ethan walked around and sat on a boulder beside her. He leaned his elbows on his knees and met her gaze. “Tell us.”
She clenched her fists. “They’re sending me away.”
Patrick stepped closer, nearly slipping as rocks shifted under his feet. “What? Where?”
“Mama and Papa enrolled me in some boarding school in New York. Said I need real discipline and manners.”
Her eyes fell to her lap, but she sensed the look exchanged between the two boys. For a long time, the rustle of the flowing creek was all that stirred.
Finally, Ethan nudged her with his elbow to her arm. “You could use some manners,” he said.
She shot him the most pointed glare she could muster. His smile fell instantly and he looked away.
“How long will you be gone?” Patrick asked.
“Through the twelfth grade.” She let them do the math. Six years. And since she was going all the way from Idaho to New York, she doubted she’d be allowed many trips home. She stood and grabbed a small rock and tossed it into the stream. It made a seemingly inconsequential plunk into the water. Just like her opposition. Mama and Papa would not be swayed.
“I will go talk with them, little sis.” Patrick grabbed her arm and turned her to face him. His forehead furrowed and mouth turned downward. “I’ll make them change their mind. You’ll see.”
He strode off, full of determination and purpose. Ethan just sat on the rock, his gaze downcast.
“He won’t change their minds,” she said.
Ethan nodded. “I know. But he doesn’t know that.”
“This isn’t fair.”
“We knew this day would come, Madeline. Your mom has talked about that boarding school ever since you were born.” He stood.
She lifted her chin and put her hands on her hips. “I just won’t go. Can they really force me?”
“Yes. And they will.”
Her heart sank. Why didn’t he believe in her? He was always telling her she couldn’t do this, couldn’t do that.
“Look at the bright side,” Ethan began, forcing a half-smile. “You get to travel all the way to New York. And you’ll come back eventually.”
She nodded. “I will. I will come back the moment I am free of that place.”
Ethan’s smile disappeared. “I’m going to miss you.”
“I’ll write to you every day. You and Patrick.”
He nodded and glanced in the direction of the house, back through the acres of orchard and hay fields. “You promise you won’t forget about us?”
She held up her hand as if swearing an oath. “Promise. Do you promise not to forget about me?”
His lips twitched. “I couldn’t if I tried.”
“And you’ll take care of my horse?”
“Of course.”
Her stomach still hurt at the thought of leaving. What would she do for fun? Who would she talk to? Ethan had always been there. Now what? “I will miss you too,” she whispered, lowering her gaze.
He lifted her chin with his hand. “I will be here, the moment you return. I promise.”
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