Tuesday, November 9, 2010


So I've been telling you all about this Nanowrimo thing I've been doing and questioning why in god's name I picked this year to jump into it. I had a light bulb moment last night where I realized that events currently dragging on my life have created a need for me to look for distractions. This is a survival mechanism, one I developed at a very young age, and which I can attribute to all those hours I would spend at the piano perfecting what I now consider to be a mediocre but serviceable talent. Believe me, I would like nothing more than to live in reality but honestly, sometimes it's just too damn hard.

Anyway, before I expend any more words, I thought for today I'd give anyone interested a peek at what will certainly be the world's worst novel. Keep in mind this is raw, unedited material that has none of the benefits of thought and or care as to quality or redeeming value. So here you go. I can feel myself getting dumber every day.

BTW, this is intended to be a middle grade paranormal piece. Something of which I'm sure is over-saturated in today's book market.

Chapter 1

For me it all started with that stupid camera. Now I know that’s being a little self-absorbed and all, since the fate of humanity is hinging on the brink of extinction, but since I somehow seem to be at the center of this whole mess I think I have every right to allow myself a little me time every once in awhile, in between trying to save the world.
Now before you get lost in all this cryptic talk about the end of all things as we know it and some strange camera thing, maybe I’d better back up because I want to make this as clear as possible. None of this is my fault. I swear. I’m not just saying that because in the past I’ve notoriously tried to shift blame for my actions in any direction but the one that leads directly to me, but because it is the honest to god’s truth. I mean how can I be blamed for something I had no control over? As in apparently this was my destiny from before I was born, which sounds a little egotistical, but I swear it’s true. If this was like a movie there’d probably be some sort of Oracle or something who could verify this after a lot of misdirection and life-tests and guidance by a wise older master leading me along my chosen path and all that other righteous nonsense. Believe me it’s not like this story hasn’t been told over and over before because it has. Just not with me as the main character.
So since this isn’t a movie, and as far as I know there isn’t an oracle, at least not that I’ve met, how, you might ask, do I know I’m so special. Well, the thing that iced it for me was the dreams. Sure, everyone has dreams, and for the most part mine had never been all that extraordinary. Just the usual fare, like giant spiders, and trying to run with feet that feel like they were made of concrete. Maybe at some point even those will end up coming into play when the time is right. But this, like all things in my life lately, comes back to the camera. The one I inherited from my grandpa. The one given to him by an old Chinese guy back when cameras didn’t fit in your pocket and Facebook and Twitter and all that other internet stuff was way beyond anyone’s imagination. No, this device doesn’t produce pictures of all those fun things going on in my life that I can put on the internet to impress my friends. Friends, by the way, of which in my case are admittedly few and far between. Oh, there’s Jimbo, and Cleo…
I can’t really talk about them right now. It’s just too hard. Maybe later.

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