One month, and 50,000 words later, and I’ve completed my first National Novel Writing Month. My first novel (still can’t get over saying that!) is loosely based on the romantic heroines from three of my most favorite Jane Austen novels. Like I told my sister, I think the novel ended up becoming a weird hyperbole of my life as a working post-grad. Whether that’s good or bad, only a solid revision process and some honest feedback from friends can say….
Exploring Carnegie Library and leaving with 2,000 more words than I started with!
The best day of NaNoWriMo was when I made a stop at the local record store to buy some vintage Beatles and CCR records, then enjoyed a tea at a local coffee shop while the snow started to fall outside.
Three great reason to help get my up early on a Saturday and my new gps watch for added motivation! I got a lot less sleep in Novemeber than I would have liked, but I can’t deny that it was worth it.
Enough said. 🙂
So glad to say that most of my friends who joined me on this adventure finished successfully as well! Congrats to the ladies of ex-pat x and Hanger Hiatus. Check out their blogs for what inspired them during NaNoWriMo and what they’re up to now.
Ok, that’s definitely an overstatement. But it was interesting to see a sort of objective analysis of my writing style (style being the key word, not content or quality, necessarily!). Regardless of who I write like, I’m up to 40,000 words on my NaNoWriMo novel. Only 10k to go. Who do you write like?
Last week, The Sartorialist posted a contest that challenged readers to write a 200 words or fewer story inspired by three of The Sartorialist’s images. Winners recived access to a private party at Danziger Gallery in New York, a hotel stay, and a free bag.(original post here) Not a bad deal! Which is why I convinced my sister, a writer, to submit to the contest. Unfortunately she didn’t win, but I thought her stories were too good not to gain some credit. Celebrate the start of Fashion week by reading her stories, below.
This city is a trick coin. It appears two-sided, a light and a dark, but it’s all the same. She knows this, perhaps is the only one who notices. This is a snow globe of a city. Eerily bright, but underground a revolution brews. She walked into the day like one walks into a painting.Toulouse-Lautrec reds and ugly women in beautiful clothes. This city is a kaleidoscope. When it turns,the colors and the shapes collide, but does it really ever change? When she slipped into her heels as the sun rose that morning, she knew the only way tobring color into this city was through the soles of her shoes.
There is a time to mourn and a time to dance. The incense had curled up beyond the alter, past the stained glass angel with his sheathed sword and eyes upraised. A wisp of white had clung to existence, reluctant toleave this world in very much the same way she had. They danced the jitterbug.They fought over dinners of baked pasta and wine. They grew a family, in whoseears danced the words “hard work” from birth to, for one, premature death. The children were there with him this day as he watched the white smoke float upinto the church’s rafters, but he had to leave even them behind. He needed towalk alone, for the first memorable time, without her. His cap was well worn,but he donned it today day anyway. She had given it to him for their thirtieth anniversary. Then was a time, as it is even now, to dance.
To read more of Angie’s writing, check out her blog here.
*Photos from www.thesartorialist.com