As I wrote my final words, a discussion on dress code went on in the room.
Out of context, this sounds like as if people were planning my attire for my funeral, so I will elaborate. This week, I'm in a performance arts camp, and the camp is based in a music room half of the day. Two pianos are by one wall, a bunch of violin stands by one corner, and a lot of chairs scattered around. I was sitting by one of the pianos while a few of the students asked what types of clothes were acceptable for the performance Friday. Apparently, as long as it isn't something like short shorts or bikinis, anything goes. "In olden days a glimpse of stocking..."
Sorry about that. I sang that song a few weeks ago in another performance art camp. In the chair I sat in, I held my manila folder, writing a story down on loose leaf. As I wrote the final words of Chapter 36, a slight rush of accomplishment came to me.
At a young age, after two failed attempts, I actually got a rough draft of a novel done. Writer's high is a great feeling.
Now that I'm done practicing description and avoiding passive voice, along with giving a short opening of prose (good authors too, who once knew better words...) in a blog of all places, I will do some explaining.
I'm C0, which is short for Chihuahua0. You can call me Chihuahua, Chi, Chio, Cho, Chi-Chi, Cee Zero, Zero...anything except Chihuhua. If you go the lengths to spell it out, at least get it right. But since some of you may think of this as a kiddy name, I will provide a cooler but cheesier alternate: C0.
Of course, this is a nickname. I'm not giving out my real name--yet.
Okay. So, I'm a teenager, ranging from age 12 to age 17. I won't specify yet, although my exact age should become apparent during the long run. I live somewhere in the Midwest, I go to a secondary school, I hang out with mostly girls at the lunch table, and I'm in an advanced Comm Art class.
I am an aspiring novelist. My goal is to get published before the age of eighteen, or once I graduate from high school.
This may come off as a pipe dream, since it takes lots of effort to not only write like an adult, but also stand out among many other aspiring novelists. However, I know pipe dreams (like the one where I'm playing alongside Lady Gaga on that double-sided piano), and if I persist, I might actually make it. Might is the keyword. I can't really rely on "will".
I believe it never hurts to set your goals high if you think you can do it. I think I can. As of right now, the manila folder that I mentioned at the beginning is next to my Mac. I'm going to type out the last two chapters once I get the time. But I'm using that time typing this blog up, and thinking about writing that article I promised to send on Friday. I have a few hours tonight and tomorrow to work on it, so I should be able to finish it, or at least get a rough draft and revise it a little.
So, why am I doing this? (bad school-like transition ahead) I'll demonstrate it to you with a list:
- I need to write more. The more I write, the better I get, even if it's not prose.
- I hadn't been able to keep a journal. Maybe by making this blog and forcing myself each day (or at least a few times a week) to write something down, I'll be able to keep it for years to come.
- I want to talk about myself
- I'm a member of 750 Words. I used that site to write my rough draft daily (it worked). However, I'm going to use it for its intended purpose.
- Some writing articles says that having an established readership helps.
Now, since this is pretty long, I'll save some more basic information for later. For example, what my novel is about, my writing experience, about me, etc.
Be kind and comment/subscribe. I'll promise to respond if you direct something to me. At DeviantART, some of the best artists (or at least the most fun ones) are the ones who have conversations in the comments. I want to be one of those people.
Now, I'm going to go type up my novel. Goodbye now.