Writing a novel (maybe)

I took the plunge, if you can call it that.

I started my first serious attempt at writing fiction. Chapter 1 is complete, and I’m almost at 2 pages on Chapter 2. I’ve not titled it yet, maybe something will come to me later. I have no idea how many pages should be in each chapter, and didn’t really know when Chapter 1 would be complete. I didn’t even know what I’d write about until I Googled “writing prompts.” I guess there’s really no set procedure, is there? Maybe I should get some pointers from my good friend LK Hunsaker who’s written several books, she’s the one I blame for putting this novel idea in my head!

And the ideas just keep coming. Here’s an excerpt from Chapter 1:

She always watched for Teewolfe as soon as she took to the air because she knew it would be searching for her. As she got more experience flying, it became harder for Teewolfe to get close to her and Lesley knew that if Teewolfe ever caught her she would be eaten. Chewed. Swallowed. Digested. Dead.

I’ve gotten several early reviews; my wife said it’s hard to follow but the writing’s good, my 19-year old son said he can’t wait to read more, and my 17-year old daughter said “interesting.” This encourages me to write more, even though the reviewers are probably a little biased.

A Memoir? Perhaps.

I think I need to write it all down for those that’ll be here when I’m gone. And maybe, just maybe, I’ll get it completed before I take off and submit it for publication somewhere. After all, I am a writer, or at least schooled a little bit in that field of study. Unfortunately, I can’t find a full time job as a writer, so I struggle along doing freelance work as it becomes available. I’m kind of afraid to start writing about my life, afraid that what I say won’t sound too good. But I’ve been told that those types of sounds are what most people want to hear. I should probably do some research first on how to go about writing a memoir. When I was in college there was mention of memoir writing, but no actual writing of one; our class read Gerda Weissmann Klein’s memoir (called Holocaust literature) – All But My Life (Copyright 1957, 1995 by Gerda Weissmann Klein). I should read it again before I start mine.

Gerda’s preface to All But My Life:

As I finish the last chapter of my book, I feel at piece, at last. I have discharged a burden, and paid a debt to many nameless heroes, resting in their unmarked graves. For I am haunted by the thought that I might be the only one left to tell their story.

Happy in my new life, I have penned the last sentence of the past. I have written my story, with tears and with love, in the hope that my children, safely asleep in their cribs, should not awake from a nightmare and find it to be reality.

My Nightmare.  Maybe that’ll be the title of my memoir. Sounds scary doesn’t it?