For over a month now, everyone who has heard of my wild writing adventures has been asking for a blurb, a synopsis, an excerpt, a poem, or just any writing of mine to read. I'm finally ready to post my novel blurb from my much-heard-about 50,000 word novel that I penned during the month of November this year. Tada! Here's my work-in-progress novel blurb for my 50 K novel titled A Poetic Life. Enjoy!
Lila Cohen is a junior English major studying at the university seeking the creative writer's "enlightenment" but life keeps giving her dose after dose of pure undiluted chaos, throwing her possibly more than she can handle. Full-time student, part-time theater stagehand, occasional wedding musician, and now the newly appointed staff writer for the local literary magazine, The Writer’s Block. New to the professional writing world, she is, but soon enough she is promoted and given a new assignment writing a monthly column dedicated to discovering what it means to live “the poetic life.” She is told to embrace this journey for enlightenment, but how can she when everywhere she turns life is tip-toeing about the edges of a cliff? Life can be described as many things, but can it always be described as poetic? Okay, now it's time for me to answer the handful of questions I've received in the last month that I've either neglected answering or halfway answered. 1) What's the title of your novel and where did it come from? It's titled A Poetic Life and the idea sprung from a blog post from a fellow writing friend of mine who inspired me to meditate on the idea of what it meant to have a poetic life. 2) What's it really about? Well, the novel blurb is posted above, but I'll divulge a little more. My novel deals with the main question "What does it mean to live a poetic life?" For a writer, it should be easy to write about, right? Not really. First of all, is life even poetic? How can death be beautiful much less poetic? My main character is basically trying her best to understand the complexities of life. My novel is a story of discovery, of heakbreak, and of hope for the future. 3) Is your main character modeled after yourself? Haha, not really. Lila Cohen is bold and she's certainly not afraid to speak her mind. Her personality is quite different from my own...maybe an alter ego of mine? Perhaps...I mean after all she did come from somewhere in my mind. 4) So...is your novel done? Nope. 50,000 words is a great start, but it's nowhere near finished. I probably have another 40,000 words or so to go before I get to penning the ending. And then I'll have the editing and revision process up next...ugh. 5) Now what? I'm putting the novel writing down for a good while. Meanwhile, I'm working on getting a book of poetry published by submitting my first query letter to a publisher who has been interested in my work for a few years now. Currently, the working title is A Close Proximity to the Heart. This collection deals with matters close to the heart and issues that pop up in our lives that hit rather close to home. Matters in close proximity to the heart resonate deeply within us, bringing out our most powerful emotions. For those who have passionate hearts, every little pebble, stone, or boulder encountered in our path of life evokes an emotional reaction of some sort either positive or negative. We live life fully with intensity, with sappy sentiment, with alternating bouts of love and hate, with occasional sadness darkening our minds, with a dreamer's hope, and most importantly, with a beautiful passionate heart that'll carry us through life. A Close Proximity to the Heart shows how our gamut of messy and powerful emotions is what makes us human. 6) What poems are going to be published in this collection? "All I Seek" "What I'm Trying to Say" "Things Fall Apart...No, Love Falls Apart" "Get Me Some Flowers" "Such Weight" "Would You Write Me a Poem?" "You Are a Beauty" "Gifting Love" And plenty of other poems!
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As many of you already know, I recently completed my NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) challenge of writing a 50,000 word novel in 30 days...actually for me, it was less than 30 days. Hmm...let me start from the beginning. Coming into the month of November, I was quite disappointed to realize that college coursework was what stood between me and penning a 50,000 word novel. Quite frankly, I didn't think that it would be possible at all to balance a novel and the life of an already chaotically busy music major! November 1st came and it was quite upsetting to think that I could have started a novel, but I hadn't. I was going to take another year off from noveling and writing. In 2009 and 2010, I had successfully completed the writing challenge, but that was high school when the workload wasn't nearly as high as it is currently in college. Writing a novel is like taking care of a baby. Always needs to be attended to, takes so much out of you, requires so much planning and so forth. Writing 50,000 words in one month seemed impossible at that time. November 1st...November 2nd...November 3rd...people began bombarding me with the question "Are you novel writing this year?" My answer: A 50,000 word novel isn't a realistic goal I could reach this year, so I'm sitting this year out. It bothered me to admit defeat without even having at it, but it just seemed impossible with all of the things that needed to be accomplished in the month of November. Some people were uncomfortable with the fact that I was already giving up without even attempting the challenge. These people kept pushing me further and further to go ahead and try it anyhow even if I only totaled 26,997 words by the end of the thirty days. They pushed me and pushed me, and it's these people I have to thank for actually getting me to actually do NaNoWriMo this year. It was late at night on November 4th that I was finally pushed over the edge to write a 50,000 novel. I was going to write a novel...but about what? Plot? Characters? Title? A little before midnight my roommate was rattling off names of her Facebook friends to help me figure out a name for my main character. That night I was writing on the fly racking up as many words as I could. Almost 8,000 words behind at that point going into November 5th, I knew I would spend most of the month of November playing catchup to regain those valuable writing days I had missed. What challenges did I face in the process of writing a 50,000 word novel? 1) I started 4 days late and about 8,000 words behind the average number of words I should have had. Obvious problem, huh? 2) Lack of time. Need to attend class, do homework, study, practice my instrument, eat, bathe, go to work...who needs to sleep when you can write a novel? 3) Getting into the writing mode. Sometimes I needed music in the background. Sometimes I couldn't stand the sound of Bernstein in my head as I'm trying to delicate scene in my novel. Sometimes, I needed complete silence, but well, that didn't happen. Sometimes, I tried eating and typing at the same time...that didn't work too well. I tried noveling after two hours of hardcore practicing, but my fingers ached. Every day was a different method to get into the writing mode. 4) Work, work, work...oh, and then you can write a novel. In the month of November, I had three papers to write, one music technology project due, four tests (one of them being a final exam), and nine performances (a few of them involving me playing the violin). Oh, and I was also balancing all of that plus four jobs. Tough, huh? 5) The emotional aspect of it all. Stress and emotions don't mix very well. This month wasn't easy at all. It was miserably difficult and there were days that I did want to drop the novel entirely because I didn't think I could do it or I thought my novel idea was stupid. Sometimes, I had no direction of where to go with my novel and I just put it down for a day or two. In the final week of November, here began my late night writing sessions (primarily working until two in the morning or until I had enough words to make me happy for the moment). My fingers ached, my eyes were completely bloodshot, I looked like a trainwreck, and I was tired. The end of the month was certainly harder than the beginning. Writing novel wasn't easy, but it was rewarding once I had the finished product. I finished my 50,012th word exactly four minutes before midnight, just in time for me to say that I officially wrote a 50K novel in the month of Novemeber. People always ask me "What do you get from this?" My answer: bragging rights and a 50,000 word novel that you wrote. That's enough for me. Maybe sometime, I go back and begin the editing process and also finish up writing the tail-end of my novel. For now, I'm going to take a slight break from the nonstop novel writing sessions that sometimes went until even three o'clock in the morning. So you guys have an idea of my next writing project, I'm going to submit a query letter with several of poems to a publishing company by the end of this month; with any luck, I could potentially have a book of my own poetry published. Maybe this will happen, maybe this won't. Doesn't hurt to try, right? Until December 12th (aka. the day I finish up finals), I'll be incommunicado for the most part. Two finals this week along with my flute jury and three finals next week. Four Christmas presentations for which I'll be playing violin...not flute. Now that I've gotten all of the music for the production, it's time to cram and learn it all before the presentations in less than a week. Wish me luck. I, Kendall Driscoll, crossed the NaNoWriMo finish line with 50,012 words exactly four minutes before midnight! I wrote a 50,012 word novel all in the month of November. Technically, I started four days late into it and 8,000 words behind, but now, I've successfully completed National Novel Writing Month for the third time in the last four years! Time to sleep and catch up on the several hours of sleep I've lost in the last few weeks! Tomorrow, I actually have a decent blog post talking about my novel and the challenges this month included.
Today's the last day of NaNoWriMo. 48,005 words right now. Just need to muster another 2,000 words before midnight.
Guess what. I'm finally caught up. 23,636 words. Celebration time? Not yet. Still got to get through the rest of this busy week and keep up the noveling. Wish me luck!
Today was the magical catch up day for writing. 14, 327 words!
Somehow, I am making it all happen. It's like pure magic. I've logged in 10,355 words as of right now, and I'm ready to collapse in the bed and call it a night of hopefully peaceful dreaming. Tomorrow's my Furman band concert! Woohoo! Looking forward that...just need to sneak maybe an hour or two of practice in before the concert...and still log in some more words for NaNoWriMo.
Dear world,
I am once again (for the third year so far) embarking on the wonderful journey of National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo). It was only a few days ago, I decided to jump on the bandwagon (four days late, I may add), but I am officially doing it and charting my word count. What's my goal? Write a 50,000 word novel in 30 days (aka. the month of November). Every day until the end of November I'll be playing catch-up trying to make up the four days that I missed. Quite honestly, I hadn't intended on doing NaNoWriMo this year considering that it seemed impossible to balance college work and novel writing, but this year, I'm seeking to conquer the seemingly impossible by balancing out the life of a music major, the life of a novelist, and the life of a Furman student. Wish me luck, wisdom, and plenty of pep talks to help get me through this literary endeavor. I'll be charting my word count progress throughout the entire month, so feel free to cheer me on through to the 50 K finish line! Sincerely, The College Novelist P.S. 6,031 Words thus far A poet’s mind is like a New York City subway station—crowded, cluttered, chaotic, and yet strangely entertaining at times. Ideas come and go and sometimes, they board a train out when we wish they’d hang around a little longer. Some downright awful ones meander in and loiter in its far dark corners long past their welcome. It’s a frightening and foreign place to those who know it not, but to those who understand its complexities and daily routine, it’s a familiar home. Derek Berry, a fellow writing friend of mine, recently wrote a post on his own personal blog site on “the poetic life.” If you're interested in his week-long contemplation on the poetic life, check out his blog at http://derekberry.wordpress.com/2012/10/17/the-poetic-life-an-introduction/. Derek describes a poetic life as the kind of life where everything can seem sentimental, and anything can serve as inspiration to our creative brain juices. Yesterday, I read his post and took some personal time to ponder my own poetic life that has been fraught with writer’s block, overthinking, and overwhelming bouts of nostalgia and sentimental sap. Just recently, I returned to my poetic life after taking what seems to have terribly long sabbatical. Last week, I picked up an old poem idea that I had been tossing around for about a month or so and finally got around to writing it out. You can read my poem titled “What I’m Trying to Say” in the previous blog post of mine I posted earlier today. The writing process: inspiration, reflection, pen-to-paper time, and then finished product. It’s an exhiliarating thrill you get when you’re crafting a work of art from nothing but a blank sheet of college ruled paper and a dull-pointed #2 pencil—but somehow, you make something hopefully worth reading. You write and you write and you write until your finished product is all out there plain to see. But what is it like to get inside the brain of a poet? Does it mean that we’re all masters of philosophy—that we’re all magical gurus who secretly know the meaning of life? Do we brush our teeth while brainstorming a new haiku for each and every incisor rooted in our face? Are we sentimental sighing lads and lasses who sit under willow trees sipping an afternoon’s tea with one hand and scribble out wisdom with the other? The interesting and humorous misconception is that poets sit around all day musing and pondering over the mundane and manage to skew to make it seem sentimental and enlightening. The truth is that we’re ordinary people who are trying to make sense of the world around us. We express it through words. Words, words, words. We construct phrases that seemingly run on forever and make both and the reader and the writer incredibly winded to try and read the lines aloud so that the pacing gets faster and faster and faster like a human being accelerating toward the earth without parachute, a miracle, or hope. Poets are masters at saying what needs to be said. It can be pointed and concise but equally dense. It can hit you like a brick when I say that poetry can’t save the life of a six year old girl diagnosed with terminal cancer. Sometimes, a writer's poetic thoughts can be a taxing and fatiguing package that seems to have been dumped on our front porch. Overthinking is one of my greatest faults. Dreaming and imagining the infinite possibilities. Dwelling on my own actions and the “what if” principle. Rationalizing the actions of others and making sense of the illogical. My mind can be a terrifying place at times that is constantly in danger of exploding and spewing poetic brain goo from one end of the room to the other. A poet’s mind can be a messy and confusing place at times, but somehow, truth manages to gleam through. What I mean is that we poets bring a new perspective to the table analyzing, exaggerating, and rephrasing different chapters and footnotes of life. We write to express. We write to escape. We write because our words are what our society so desperately needs. Ramble, rant, complain, vilify, praise, defend, narrate. It’s all perspective. Maybe we should all try and see life through different colored lenses, upside down and backwards. Perspective is what the world needs and what a poetic mind can provide. Just last week, I returned to my poetic life and wrote this poem titled "What I'm Trying to Say." This poem gives voice to the bizarre and erratic thoughts of a nervous lovestruck teenage who is so desperately trying to ask one single question but is having a horrendous time accomplishing such a simple task. Just a few days ago, I submitted this poem to a literary magazine called "Teen Ink" and the great news is that my poem was awarded Editor's Choice Award! I'm still in the editing process, so feedback is welcome. Here's my poem "What I'm Trying to Say." Enjoy!
What I’m Trying to Say Many people enjoy playing the awkward question game. They want to hear the weird, unsettling, and sometimes humorous answers that come from it. Personally, I’d just like answers to my questions. Serious answers. Be honest and be serious Because I’m being 110 % serious. I’ve always had this question festering on the tip of my tongue. I’ve always wanted to ask you, But I can’t seem to get the right words to come out of my mouth! What’s wrong with me that I can’t ask such an innocent question?! But finally, I think I’ve plucked up enough courage to finally ask the question that has been bugging the snot out of me. I’m going to say it! Maybe… So…my question: If I was hit by a bus on prom night, would you come visit me in the hospital? No—scratch that—that’s not my real question. If I asked you to write me a poem, would you? Wait a second, I’ve already written a poem about that. Let me try changing my question to something better, Perhaps something less childlike and silly. Maybe I should ask you what you’d say at my funeral if I died today. I’d hope you’d say the kindest, sweetest things about me that would make me mad that I wasn’t alive to witness the ceremony. Perhaps that’s too dismal of a subject to bring up now while we’re young and invincible. Let’s say that we lived in the time when chivalry was still alive And let’s also say that some man challenged you to a duel, Would you fight for me? Maybe I’m skirting the real question that’s on my mind… Which is more valuable to you, your violin or our friendship? Argh! You know what? I suck at this whole question-asking business! I mean…well, you know what I mean, right? Have you ever had that feeling when you want to ask that question, but you’re afraid of what that person will assume when you ask that question and if you asked that question you’d ruin everything that you’ve built up with friendship and small talk, and so therefore, you don’t even decide to risk it by asking the question in the first place, so you decide to ask a series of minor unimportant and downright ridiculous questions to see if all the answers sum up to the larger more important one which I’m terribly afraid to ask… ...you know? Why am I so afraid to ask you one simple question??? Am I afraid your wit daggers will pin me down with one swift motion? Am I a coward because I’m afraid of the life or death consequences of one single question? Ok, maybe it’s not life or death, But if only you could answer my question without me having to ask it-- But patience is absolutely nauseating! I’m going to ask it if it kills me! If I was performing a concerto with the symphony orchestra, would you surprise me with flowers? If I tumbled headfirst down a flight of stairs with my violin case, would you check me or the violin for damage? If love existed in the time of cholera, does it still exist in the twenty-first century? Would you touch me with a thirty-nine and a half foot pole if I was miserably sick with the flu? Would you dry my tears if I was crying my eyes out? Would you listen if I said something? You know what? I love you! There, I said it. Maybe that’s what I’ve been trying to say all along. Now, my question to you is Do you love me? |
AuthorKendall Driscoll is an accomplished writer/ musician/ artist/ academic scholar. Archives
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