It’s November. I’ve been on a writing hiatus for the past six weeks and I’m finally ready to kick it into high gear again.
Today starts day one of NaNoWriMo, which I’ve decided is the perfect excuse to get back to work.
Don’t know what NaNoWriMo is? It’s National Novel Writing Month. The goal: Write a 50,000 word novel in thirty days. That’s roughly 1,666 words per day. Yes, I see the three sixes. And by day fifteen, I’m sure I’ll think NaNoWriMo is of the devil too. But for now, I’m using this as a vaulting board to get back into the writing game. I’ve spent nearly a year editing my five-book series, and writing a non-fiction with my sisters, but I need to get back in the game.
Luckily, in September, I submitted the first 500 words to a contest and got first place in my genre, and it’s completely different from the Unleashed and Courting Disaster series’, so I think I’ll take the plunge.
Interested in seeing the premise? Below is what I submitted to the contest. I’d love to get your thoughts on the story!
Tim the Reaper
The desk cools my face. My eyes are closed, blocking everyone out. Not that it matters. They ignore me anyway. It’s better than being bullied. I’m pretty scrawny for a fifteen-year-old. Mom calls me a late bloomer. The kids call me puny.
Mrs. Chase clears her throat in front of me. As in, right in front of me. I’m front row, center seat. All the others are taken, except those on either side of me. It’s been this way since the last time Danny got hit by lightning. It’s not like he died or anything. But after the second lightning strike, I couldn’t play with him, or anyone else, anymore. Typical.
God has a sick sense of humor.
My bad luck began with Mom giving birth to me on the freeway. Some genius from PETA let the circus animals loose. Mom said there was a tiger on the hood of their car when I was born.
Then there was that time I helped Grandpa pay the bills. He still liked to mail them. He licked an envelope and got a papercut on his tongue. We didn’t think anything of it until he got gangrene and died. Seriously?
I was only in scouts a month before they kicked me out. How is it my fault an eagle thought Mr. Anderson’s bald head was a rock and dropped a turtle on him?
Now, people give me a wide berth.
Mrs. Chase clears her throat again. “Eyes up front!” Her hand touches my head. “You too, Mister Collins.”
I look up, discovering the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. She’s almost as tall as Mrs. Chase, who is 6’1″ and used to play college basketball.
The girl is blushing. Her eyes dart around the room. Her long, slender fingers wring together in front of her. She smells like flowers. She smooths the front of her Metallica t-shirt, glances down at me, and smiles. It’s kinda quirky – a half smile with a dimple. She shoves a lock of blond hair behind her ear, making the curl of her bob more pronounced. Wow. Those are blue eyes.
She glances away, then back down to me, the other side of her mouth tipping upward.
“Are you okay with that, Mister Collins?”
I look at Mrs. Chase and blink several times. “Can you repeat the question?”
Someone behind me snickers. I look over my shoulder, narrowing my eyes at him. His face pales and he slumps in his seat.
“Will you give Daphne a tour of the school?” Mrs. Chase raises both brows, waiting.
I glance up at Daphne. The fluorescent lights create a halo around her head. “Uh…yeah.”
“Are you sure you wanna go with him?” Ruby says from behind me. “Tim’s the Reaper.”
I shake my head, dropping it to my desk again, slowly pounding my forehead on the wood.
And that, my friends, is my life in a nutshell.
Welcome to the world of Tim the Reaper.