Pushing Onward

As you can probably tell from looking at your calendar, November's over. I've also mentioned this a couple times too, now that I think of it. But November was a lifechanging month for me, in more ways than one.

First, was National Novel Writing Month. Not only did I complete the challenge, but I made so many new friends during it. I pushed my limits, my beliefs, and my expectations and received great results. I found out what I'm capable of, and I also found out I liked what that means.

So now, I'm working hard on my manuscripts. I want to go further, I want to do better, I want to be better. I want to find out where else I can go if I try, and I want to find my limits. So far, I'm finding out those weren't as close as I first imagined.

Now that I'm starting to wean myself of the large amounts of caffeine in my system, I am settling into a new routine. I have now finished an entire chapter of my book in one week; this used to take me a month or two. I am able to keep myself busy and thinking, and find myself daydreaming of scenes more often than I did before. This makes my editor happy, because she gets to hear more and read more as well from me.

While I'm still researching ways to reach out and make an identity for myself through my writing, I'm also not neglecting the most important part: the writing itself. I am able to organize myself, and figure out how to do both. I am growing in so many ways, it's mindboggling. I know it's to be expected; I'm still a young adult after all, not experienced or wise in the ways of life... yet. but I love living this experience, and the ones that are bound to follow.

I have a scene from my series Children of Sin to share for this post, as a early Christmas gift:

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The new girl, my new ‘sister,’ is rather pretty for a ten-year-old; what I can see of her, at least. Her hair is really dark, either brown or black, but her eyes are a pale blue. It’s visible from here, as she seems to be looking across the backyard. Sliding the patio door open, she steps out onto the varnished porch, her bare feet silent at this distance. She’s only wearing a nightgown, a pink that stands out from her pale flesh, and her hair’s really long, almost down to her knees. Seeing all of her, I notice how tiny she is; almost like a doll.

That’s exactly what she reminds me of, to be exact. A little life-sized doll that one of my old sisters had. It was made of some type of glass, and broke easily; it didn’t take long to learn that. She loved those dolls, but not enough to resist throwing them at me.

I have a perfect little doll for a sister. She’s probably just as easy to shatter too.