I had a story idea that I was compelled to share with the world.
People began to notice I was glowing.
“Wow, what a great idea,” they said. “You talk about it with such passion,”
Other people, known by writers as ‘The head-tappers’ said, “That’s nice. A lot of amateur writers give up at four months, I hope you don’t when you get started.”
The idea penetrated the depths of my mind and I couldn’t stand not to write it. Conception occurred. There was a book in me, beginning a beautiful nine-month writing journey.
I dreamt and wondered what this finished novel would look like. I knew one day I would see that going through this writing season would be more than worth it, because I never knew I could love something I had never written yet, so much.
The alphabet formed around my idea. The 26-letter sac helped cushion the growing novel.
Marks took form on pages as words. My pen began transferring sentences from me to my novel.
Plot and settings began developing.
My protagonist took shape and circulation began. My baby’s tiny heart beat about 7,500 words by the end of the fourth week.
My protagonist’s features began to develop. Secondary characters and antagonist were introduced. Beliefs began to unfold inside their heads. Vague people with tiny buds that would grow into arms and legs, fingers and toes.
Scenes were large in proportion to the novel’s begining chapters.
By the end of the second month my baby was about 15,000 words and 60 pages.
Plot point one thrusted my protagonist into an inciting incident. Conflict developed in order for him to become functional.
Since my novel’s inciting incident was developed my chance of miscarriage dropped considerably.
The stakes were raised in my protagonist’s emotional journey. The nervous system started to function. Inner and outer conflicts simultaneously advanced.
By the end of the fourth month my baby was about 37,500 words and 120 pages.
My novel began to move, developing muscles and exercising them. Plot point two was quickening.
My protagonist’s goal became reachable.
By the end of the fifth month my baby was about 45,000 words and 150 pages.
My characters responded to an unexpected turn, my protagonist reached a Black Moment. His goals could not be achieved.
I noticed jerking motions from my novel’s hiccups.
By the end of the sixth month my baby was about 52,500 words and 180 pages.
My novel developed reserves of chapter fat.
My protagonist’s tension was at it’s highest and danger was at its worst. He drew upon new strengths, changing position frequently.
At the end of the seventh month my baby was about 60,000 words and 210 pages.
My novel’s brain began developing rapidly.
My protagonist dramatically succeeded and became a better person.
Most internal systems were developed.
My baby was about 65,000 words and 220 pages.
Resolution tied together loose ends and shown the outcome of my protagonist’s decision at the climax. Evidence of change was seen in a positive character arc.
Excitement and anxiety came interchangeably at intense intervals. I couldn’t walk, talk, or laugh through them.
With clammy hands I pushed my pen across the last page writing, The End, and the first draft of my baby was born into the world.
At 75,000 words, 270 pages, and 8½ inches long, I stood staring at my bundle of joy, picked it up, cuddled it, and named it, A Casual Awareness.
I wrote a novel.
What a marvel!
The next journey begins of raising my baby through revisions and sending it out into the world on its own as a story that (hopefully) stands the test of time