So after yesterday’s blow, I realized I needed to shift my priorities and finish that damn campus novel I’ve been writing. I crawled into my writing loft today, with Frankie at my feet, to reach the 200th page:
I’m guesstimating that I need 100 more pp. to have a decent first draft. And I’m going to turn this into a challenge to keep this damn thing going. Can you, dear reader, hold me accountable in that I should have a first draft ready by the end of May? If you want to be a part of this challenge, let me know.
If I have a first draft ready by the end of May, I win and you can buy me a cup coffee (or anything you want to do for me– heck, I’ll even send you a copy of the ms. if you want to read it).
If I don’t have a first draft ready by the end of May, I’ll invite you over for dinner at my house and you can shame me into finishing. As an added bonus, I will read one of my chapters to you.
Deal? Would love to hear from you!
Here’s a short fragment from my first chapter:
from Chapter One: A Rare Library Find
©2017 Inez Hollander
Eva closed her eyes and inhaled the scent of wisdom printed on pages and parchment, all stored in this beautiful building. She tried to hold onto that delicious feeling of book smells and quiet privacy before the Reading Room would be filled with the hustle and bustle of students and visiting scholars. Books were her friends and they never disappointed her or talked back. As she opened her eyes and walked towards some of the familiar stacks, her eye was caught by some papers that were strewn on the ground. Odd. As her eye traveled from the paper to the display case with the seventeenth-century Atlas Maior of which there were less than 1000 left in the world, a fact that had always filled her with personal and institutional pride, she thought she saw what looked like red paint. But when she walked closer, she gasped because it was blood, or rather a trail of blood, as if some animal of prey had dragged its dinner through the library. But even before this graphic visual was fully processed by her brain, her nose, which, moments before, had inhaled and savored the aromas associated with old paper and high culture, registered a scent of danger, coming from a whiff of blood which reminded her of that time in a woman’s period that the blood runs thick and dark: a scent both earthy and strong. She was trembling now, her instincts telling her to run, but instead, she pressed on, turned the corner, and nearly fainted.