In case many of you are wondering why I haven’t been posting in a while, I’ve been working on a story which I hope to turn into an E-Book by the end of the year. Here’s a sneak peak at: The Mandela.
While it may be almost a month since my last posting, I’ve been working every day not only on my career but also on something else. Some of you may not be familiar with NaNoWriMo, or National November Writing Month. The goal of NaNoWriMo is to write a novel (of aout 50,000 words) within a month.
I took part in this last year, but didn’t win. School got in the way. There aren’t any awards or prizes of any sort, but it does give you boasting rights and a very satisfied feeling. It’s also a chance to connect with freelancers from all over the world and hear other people’s stories. It’s a very exciting event and I’m going to encourage all of you guys to join in.
So, what will I be writing? Minimal pre-planning is allowed, but I’ve had an idea floating around my head for the longest time, and will be working with that toward my story. It’s going to be a post-apocalyptic adventure-comedy. Weird, yes, but since the idea won’t leave my alone I figure writing it all down will keep it from haunting me.
For the writers in our world, this is an awesome challenge. For the readers and book-lovers out there, you can help and join in by reading and critiquing the work of the wanna-be writers.
Wish me luck with this!
I closed the door quietly and took five deep breaths. After a second’s pause I reached forward slowly and gripped the door knob. A second more passed and I opened it slowly.
The room on the other side was fairly empty except for the painting supplies I was supposed to be clearing out. The house was really old and needed tons of repairs and refurbishing. The other folks were all downstairs working on the floors and stairs.
What bothered me was that creepy statue that stood in the center of the room. It hadn’t been there when the painters had finished earlier; I’d asked them. I figured one of the gardeners had moved it up here to get it out of the way, but why they would go through the trouble of carrying it up two flights of narrow, rickety stairs was beyond me.
It was sort of pretty, I guess. Her face was a soft oval and her eyes slanted upward just slightly. Her rosebud lips were parted slightly and there was almost a slight smile about them. Her hair was carved in an elegant style on the top of her head. Her angel wings were folded behind her gracefully.
Picking up wads of paper and old tape, I kept my eye on the statue. It was very pretty, but there was kind of a creepy vibe about it. Something I couldn’t quite place. Turning my back, I faced the old fireplace and began clearing more tape from around the edges.
A cold breeze drafted down my neck I turned around. The room was empty.
The statue was gone.