There are lots of ways to start writing. All of them entail sitting down and putting words on a page and that includes starting novels.
Usually I am caught up in a story idea at the beginning of NaNo (National Novel Writing Month). My mind is teeming with ideas competing with each other to get out.
This November is different.
I do have a story in mind. I have ideas to go with that story. Putting the words down is hard.
For months I’ve written very little other than the posts for the website and a single piece of flash fiction. The single sentence comments on various plants barely qualify as writing. All of these are short.
Novels are much longer. I’m aiming for at least 50,000 words. But the words aren’t there.
November began. I sat down and tried to start writing. Almost 600 words in I stopped. It was wrong, wrong, wrong.
I was trying to turn a novel into a short story. I was cutting out almost all of the events planned for the novel.
One of the premises for NaNo is to keep writing no matter what. One of the other premises for me is to come out with a coherent piece of a novel.
That 600 words wasn’t much, but it was something toward my word count. I didn’t want to keep it or even continue with it as written.
I hit the Enter key several times. And pretended I was starting novels all over again.
This second start still doesn’t feel quite right. I’m having trouble with point of view, whether to write in first or third person. But the story is moving along.
The going is still slow. This novel is a new approach for me and I’m still trying to get comfortable with it. But I am making progress.
Excerpt: Mindy’s relationship with the property is important in the novel.
Mindy stepped out onto the porch area in front of the milkroom door. Behind her was the quiet crunching as two goats finished their grain. Turning she could see the few puffy clouds now a blinding white instead of the pale pink earlier. The sun was creeping up behind the trees on the hilltop.
An autumn chill hung in the air. Mindy knew the sun would soon chase it away. A barred owl called from the hill. Who, who cooks for you? That was the way she’d heard the call described. Someday she would like to see one of the elusive birds.