Twelve days into NaNoWriMo, I’m supposed to be around 20,000 words. I’m actually at 9,342 words. I have some catching up to do.
My novel has just now started to feel as though something I actually want to delve into with a passion. I’m not naive enough to think that it’s actually *good* writing (worthy of real editing and publishable) but I’m having the time of life writing it. And that’s what this is all about, right?
I’m still wavering on whether I want to post the novel at the end of November. But I will share the first paragraph.
Elise sat tightly scrunched in the bottom of the hall closet, elbows pushed against a clutter of old coats, and her knees shoved between winter boots and the handbag that Aunt Margaret had sent for her birthday. There wasn’t an all-encompassing reason for why she’d chosen this specific hiding place, but right now, the bottom of the hall closet seemed like the natural place to be.