Well, hello.

So, here it is... one week away from yet another year of NaNoWriMo. My guess is, if you're here, it's probably because you're a fellow participant or because you saw a link at my main blog. And chances are, you have some vague interest in this year's noveling endeavor.

Well, welcome cyber-traveler! :)

This blog is mostly a development place for my 2009 NaNoWriMo project, Music Lessons. Basically, it is -- or at least I hope it'll be! -- a YA novel based on a short story I wrote for a creative writing class this year about a family coping with the loss of their mother. (More details/synopsis and such will probably come!) I've been meaning to expand that little piece into something that can contain all the relationships and layers of story that were happening in my head and the first drafts, but well... sometimes I procrastinate. And sometimes it takes an arbitrary, stupid goal like writing 50,000 words in a month to push me into the task.

Ummm.... yes. Hey, I did it last year. I can do it again! :D

So, expect this to be a place to dump planning stuff, character profiles, ideas and perhaps the occasional excerpt. This is my totally self-indulgent place to open up about the thing I'm writing for anyone who might care. For more general thoughts on writing, NaNo, and life in general, please visit my other blog, Divinest Sense.

If you read this far... well, thanks! Guess you are interested, huh? :) Here's an excerpt from the original short story. I can honestly say that this was one of my favorite scenes, because in these short paragraphs, I think I saw my main characters Neil and Shanna most clearly. I just hope I can capture the heart of this scene in my rewrite this month!

******

Do the right thing? He wasn’t sure what that meant anymore. He wanted to ask, but he was too busy remembering the last time he saw her truly happy.

It was a year ago, her senior year of high school, and even though she had been asked to the prom by at least two different boys, Shanna skipped it and took Neil to his first concert. He had just started taking an interest in music, and she was thrilled to have someone in her family that would even entertain the idea of spending three hours packed in a smoky downtown bar listening to loud bands with her.

That night, she swayed and sang, and her love was contagious. He felt alive too, anonymous, but intimately connected to these sweaty, crazy, beautiful strangers. When they left, the smell of alcohol and smoke that permeated the place lingered with them. They drove home under a starry sky, the windows down all the way, the wind whipping her hair like a storm. The only sound was the wind, a tape by The Smiths blasting on her stereo, and her pretty voice singing along.

And he realized that she did smile a lot these days, but it never seemed as real as that night. He hadn’t seen her face light up like that since.