|Some of my favourite novels!|
National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo 2013) is coming up this November! What is National Novel Writing Month?. Well, it's a place where you can participate in the novel writing contest. It's free, although they gladly accept donation to help there website and other program to keep running.
I am not one to always have an idea to write about, but if I am in need of writing prompts to help boost the creative juices, I go to Toasted Cheese Literary Journal. Often I just write without purpose, with a reckless abandon, and that has worked to my benefit; but I have also wrote and not gotten anywhere. That's okay too! Sometimes a false start is just a slight sidetrack to the real story.
I did not get to NaNo last year due to directing and stuffs, but the plans are in the works to do it this year. I am excited. So very excited!! Been stockpiling little ideas, places, names for inclusion in this years novel. Might try a light science fiction novel this year. I have hang ups about writing Sci-fi/Fantasy, I start out great, but then get too caught up in the details and forget that I have a plot to focus on. What NaNoWriMo did for me, I can barely put into words. It goes something like this. When you do NaNo you end up putting your fears and doubts aside to the benefit of the story being told, your character will come to life and start tell you their story.
So, we shall see! Hope to see you there!! My name on NaNo is draconicwitch, look me up. I also tweet about my writing, so check out my twitter draconicwitch. Check out my writing page on Facebook at Here, There be a Writer.
here's a little from today's writing exercise: "Drop what you’re doing and write for 15 minutes! Go!"
She was sitting in the living room bay window. The sky, she noticed, was a pale grey, nit quite a slate, but not white either and there seems to be very little breeze. She sighed a deep sigh. Here sketch book was next to her, but the ambition seemed to have disappeared. There didn’t seemed to be a thing moving outside, not a bird, nor breeze.
“Nothing seems to be alive out there,” she mumbled to herself, as she scanned the landscape, nary a bush or tree moved. It felt like there was an oncoming storm, but the air smell of freshly cut lawn and of corn from the fields across the road. “Today would be better if I cared,” she said to the old grey Persian that was also sitting on the window seat. She turned her head out to the outside again, “there’s Uncle Oedipus. He must have finished the mowing.” She paused, the ennui seemed to over take her, turning to the cat, “really Misty, I guess there is nothing to do but sit here and stare out the window.” Misty, the Persian glanced at the girl and let out a wide yawn and blinked, “yeah, I feel the same way,” as she also yawned. “I probably should go help uncle Oedipus with the yard work, but really…” she leaned back against the window, “I just don’t care…’ turning back out to the yard.
Oedipus was hauling out a large basket with a great deal of effort. He was struggling to free it from the shed. There seemed to be a fishing pole caught on the lip of the basket that was also dragging a garden hose with it. The girl watched as Oedipus struggled, she seems bored. When sudden Oedipus dropped the basket and tried to walk away, but only ended up tripping, with the girl watching the tangled interplay. “Looks like he’s gonna fall…”
“You might want to go help me,” a voice said in her ear. She turned abruptly to Misty, who just blinked and turned her head to look out the window.
“Who said that?” The girl whipped around; there was no one else in the living room. She turned back to the window just in time to see Oedipus stumble and start to fall. “Uncle Oedipus!” she called, arms reaching out, and she saw Oedipus freeze in position, in mid fall. “Crap!” she muttered, and then stopped to see that Oedipus was frozen in mid tumble. “Wait! What the hell?” Blinking back her vision she saw that indeed her uncle was frozen in mid fall. “Misty? She asked, “How did I do that?” she said looking at the cat who seemed clearly intent on a fly buzzing around her head. “Wait! How is it that I’m moving and the fly is moving, but not Uncle Oedipus?”
“Are you gonna stand there all day, Young Lady?” the voice returned.
“Uncle Oedipus?” The girl stood looking out the window at her uncle, who was not moving, but she clearly heard him say…
“Child, I appreciated that to stopped my fall, but I cannot hold this position much longer.”
“Uncle Oedipus, is that you?” The girl placed a hand on the window pane, as she stared at her uncle.
“Who else would it be, Walela? Now kindly let me go, so I can fall and get it over with.”
“But Uncle, if I do, you will fall…”
“Not now, Walela, as soon as you let me go, I can tuck into a roll and avoid an injury.”
“But, Uncle how am I to let you go…” Walela said, “And how am I am talking to you?” turning away from the window to star at the Persian, who was now dozing in the pale sun light.
“Walela, you are the one that stopped me; you have to be the one to release me.”
Still stunned by this recent event, Walela, turned to the window and stared at her uncle, confused, she was at a loss for what to do. She pointed her finger at her uncle and said, “Let him go,” and waved her finger. Nothing happened.
“Walela, what are you doing? This is not your Harry Potter mumbo jumbo! Release me, this instance! My calf muscles are tensing up,” chided Oedipus.
“Okay, Uncle.” Walela was confused and began freak out. She turned back to her uncle and whispered “move.” Oedipus became mobile and she watched as he tucked into a ball and rolled out of the way of the tangle of basket, fishing pole, and hose. She turns and runs toward the door trying to thinking clearly about what just happened.
“Thank you Walela,” said Oedipus.
Have you written a novel before? Have you wanted to? What would you write about? Drop me a comment below: