It's November! Which meets National Novel Writing Month. I've epically failed the last two years, but that's no excuse to not give it another whirl. This year I've planned and planned, and I'm feeling good at my chances of hitting 50,000 words in just thirty days despite some breaks for the holidays and another trip to Charleston.
This year's attempt is tentatively called "The Library of Dreams and Unexpected Adventures," and features a pop up library, mysterious librarian, and a young girl who needs something nonsensical and amazing her life. They say to write what you know and what you love to just get words on the page. So that's what I'm doing. Chapter one has a reference to Newsies and The Night Circus, so we'll just have to see what else ends up in the story.
If you're a NaNo participant, and you're looking for a little fun and accountability, join us on Saturday's at the Greenwood Public Library from 1-5pm! We'll be there typing away.
I'm sure I'll be checking in on the blog from time to time this month, but if I get carried away, I'll see you on the other side!
And while I've never let anyone read my other two NaNo novels, I'm being brave and giving you an UNEDITED snippet from chapter one...
“THERE ARE NO WRONG WAYS TO ANYWHERE”
The Librarian shifted and then shifted again in the cramped bus seat trying his best to stretch out his legs and ease the aching in his knees. Bus travel seemed so undignified after years of travel on the rails. He missed the days when getting from one place to the next was an event, men in their best suits, women fashioned in fancy buttons and beautiful hats, boarding trains with tickets in hand headed out on an adventure into territory that was unsettled and a bit wild. They were leaving for a new life, a new beginning where anything could happen, and they did it in style.
Looking around the Greyhound, the bright headlights from passing cars casting an eerie yellow glow on the faces of sleeping travelers, he wondered if that same sense of adventure had disappeared. Did people still feel that same sense of reverence? Excitement for something new? An eager anticipation for the unknown? He hoped so. If not, he firmly believed that a good book was enough to inspire even the loneliest of hearts and disbelievers. But then again, he was The Librarian.
Unconsciously he reached down and patted the suitcase at his feet already anticipating his next destination. It was weathered and leather and covered in stickers and stamps showing the miles and years of its existence. Traveling across the country, filling days with the power of imagination and library books, never got old.
And neither did he.