NaNoWriMo, thus far, has been an adventure.
I expected absolutely nothing less.
I started Day One with endless enthusiasm and absolutely no shortage of ideas…and, typically, absolutely no way to pick between any of them. (Thank you, Libra.)
And so, also typically, on Day One I just started in with my general default of Writing All the Things, and worked on two completely different projects.
By the end of Day One, however, I had decided that neither one of the two projects I had worked on was the right one, but figured the right one would find me sooner or later.
And late that night, just as I was settling into bed, yet another plotbunny suddenly launched itself atop my brain, and began to very ravenously gnaw.
This did not surprise me, either, and I just decided to give in and give this rabid new thing a go.
And I have. We’ve made some progress (even if not nearly as much as I should have), and after some serious rethinking and reworking I may actually have a somewhat viable story, here.
YET AGAIN, for about the third time thus far, I don’t know that that one is the story, the one I can throw myself into so completely that I spew out 50,000 words of it in a one-month span.
Luckily (or unluckily, however you want to look at it), however, as I was leaving work last night, Plotbunny #4 (yes, #4) hit.
The kind of plotbunny where, even if she shake your head quite sternly at it and tell it no, that you’ve already begun another project and do not particularly care to completely start NaNoWriMo over halfway through the month, it will hop up and down inside your head so energetically that you will not be able to focus on anything else, however hard you may try.
Needless to say, Plotbunny #4 would not let go, and I know how this goes well enough to realise that I’m doomed.
I decided to at least be graceful about the whole mess, and give in and start writing it anyway.
Will it go well? Hell if I know! But for now, it’s coming quickly and easily and the bunny and I are getting on quite well, so I can’t really complain. :)
The title is Mei & June, it’s teen fiction/romance (yup, two girls!), and the first draft of the blurb?
Mei has not been home in over three years, not since the night with the screaming and the broken glass and her mother barging into her bedroom to tell her to wake up, that they had to get away.
Mostly, she doesn’t mind. She doesn’t miss her dad, or the way her parents always fought, or how she always had to sleep her with her door shut and her head under the pillow just to block them out.
The only thing she misses is her best friend. Not being home in over three years means it’s been three years since she last got to see her best friend…the best friend her mother tried to forbid her from speaking to at all after they left, for fear that Mei’s father would be able to track them through any connections they kept.
But Mei and June have been inseperable ever since they were little girls, and that much, at least, is never going to change.
So when June tells Mei that she needs to come with her to her old high school’s prom, Mei says yes against her mother’s will, and June drives for hours to come to steal her away in the middle of the night, and that’s when the world begins turning back over on its ear.
And now for the first Six Sunday snippet of the piece itself!
Here, Mei is recounting the night she and her mother left, the way her mother woke her up shouting at her to pack, that they were going to leave, before darting back out to continue the shouting match with Mei’s father that had prompted said decision to leave. As Mei was waiting for the fight to end and to see how it would go, she sent a hurried text to her best friend:
‘Parents fighting. Think Mom is about to leave, and drag me with her. Lyk details when I have any. Love you, June. Hopefully I’ll see you soon.‘
(June is, obviously, my best friend’s name — June Elise Roberts. I generally only call her that when things are really serious, though; otherwise she prefers me to use her initials and just call her Jer.)
I didn’t bother to apologise for texting her so late at night, because the girl sleeps like the dead, and I knew that even if she had gone to sleep with her phone’s volume on, there was no way it would wake her up.
Part of me was glad of that, despite the fact she wouldn’t have gotten mad at me if I had woken her up, but part of me was also more than a little bit desperate to hear her voice, especially not knowing when we would get to see each other again.
She’s the sort of girl who, once you meet her, you don’t do too well without.