Sunday Scribblings.
(Sunday, September 10, 2006)
The prompt up today at Sunday Scribblings is to write about what you never thought you would write about. As I barely had any time to sit or breathe this weekend, I certainly couldn't find any time to actually write what I never thought I would; but I do have a few thoughts.
I never thought I would write a romance novel.
And, in fact, I thought I never had written one, until I began reminiscing about my childhood and realized--that's not true, I have!
First, let me say a few words of clarification and such. I am such a romantic, and so hungry for words that at times I will read anything. I rely on books for everything: to enlighten me, to teach me, to help me, and, at times, to send me off into an escape away from everything in my mind and my world. As of late, my craving has been for historical novels, and I've been loving drifting off into another era whilst I turn the pages, imagining what it would be like to live in 14th century Wales as a travelling healer. And let me admit--part of what pulled me into my current read was the little line that hinted toward a love affair. But there have been times when all I wanted was a scandalous, immoral romance novel, the kind they sell as "$1.00 per lid" at the used bookstore around the corner. I've had my days of sneaking over to the massive, overwhelming wall of cheap, thick romance covers in our library, plucking one or two discreetly off the shelf, and walking out contentedly in anticipation of reading all about the flushed, heaving-chested woman and the shirtless knight I spied on the front cover. I have no shame! It was terribly satisfying!
Nonetheless, I never thought I would write one of these, despite my need for a brainless romance now and then; and, truthfully, I never have written one quite like that. But I do recall when I was still in elementary school, and every day I rushed home and into my bedroom, grabbed my blue binder, and flopped belly-down on my bed to write a few chapters of my secret novel. At the time, I was a hopeless fan of Nancy Drew, and so my novel was a neverending, seventy-five (so far) chapter ordeal about three female journalist best friends who landed internships at the city newspaper and just happened to meet three best friend guys who worked there, too, and all their mysteries, fallings-in-love, first kisses, and near-killings as they investigated crimes. Because I was only nine or ten years old, this romance was not the sexy, lustful, trashy sort--but still, it was just as satisfying for a young girl of my age to write about all the things that made her innocent heart flutter.
I never did finish the novel. I believe it ran up to around eighty chapters before I stopped writing, and I'm not sure if I even have it anymore. Several years ago, I may have tossed it away, embarrassed, but I still remember how it felt to write shamelessly and without any cares of whether it was a work of true talent.
I would love to share a few excerpts of it here... thus, I will begin searching through all my old desk drawers, boxes, shuffling through floppy disks, to see if I can find even pieces of it--if I could find it, I have a feeling it would make me smile.
© Megan K. 2006-2007
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How about a new chapter for this book - press interns in search for world-famous novelists lost manuscript. It could begin something like this:
The revelation set the literary world buzzing. The moment this year's Booker prize laureate... revealed that stacked away somewhere among her childhood momentos there existed a long-lost manuscript of her first attempt to write a novel private-eyes across the country were being hired to lay their hands on this priceless document. Undeterred our three intrepid interns were determined that they would be the first... (the rest is up to you - how about it?)
when i was little i was a big fan of sweet valley high...many of my short stories were about twins...go figure...
I hope you can find that novel. How wonderful that you persisted with that writing at such a young age, exercising your imagination. Lovely piece.
I'm sure it would be great fun to read if you could find it. When I was a child, I didn't have any models for trashy writing. Our public library wouldn't stock them - no Enid Blyton, for instance - and my parents' budget didn't run to trashy books - only the occasional "good" book on birthdays. So there was a whole world of junk literature out there that I missed out on :)
Hope you find it---snipets would be such fun, at least for you, and if it is good, please share. But I have to tell you, the journals---admittedly no attempt at a novel-- I found when cleaning out Mother and Dad's house, written when I was in 5th thru 7th grade,were so desperately insipid that I, a dangerously sentimental pack rat, had NO problem throwing them away, and acknowledging they should be burned. Hope when you find yours, you won't be as disappointed as I was.
How wonderful to revisit our younger selves and what we longed for! I hope you find it!