Hello, Hoodians! I’m here with a short recap of Camp NaNo and what my project is!
I lost, in case you were wondering. But it’s chill.
I had some awesome cabin mates! Some of them are: Madi, Charis, Sarah, Chloe, Nicole, Josie, and Alyse. I was in the cabin my sister was in 🙂 . It was super fun to roleplay (<3), chat, and sprint with everyone!
My original goal was 30,000 words, but as the month came near to an end and I began to understand I probably would not reach that goal, I lowered it to 20,000. Bu then I lowered it to 18,000 (followed by the pitiful number of 15,000)
Ha ha ha. Ha ha. Ha.
I technically wrote only five thousand words, but the meter shows higher because I counted from where I left off of NaNoWriMo (the 8000/9000 word range, some was not written during NaNoWriMo, buuut…).
Now that I have shown you my pitiful results, onto explaining my project!
Don’t try to read it, I’ll post an excerpt and the blurb 😉 .
(Ignore the corny cover) I chose to (try) to finish my novel, “The Forgotten”.
Zoel, Brent, and Tessa have a problem. For decades, specific people, mainly children, have been wiped from the minds of everyone around them. No one remembers them. They have become known among this group of people, as Forgottens. One day, Zoel finds a notebook in the possession of her enemy/friend/frenimy. The notebook leads them to some of the most dangerous places in the world. There hopes are that this dangerous quest will lead them to be remembered once again. Will they accomplish the hope of being known?
Le Excerpt (aka the entire prologue):
Once upon a time, as they say, there was a boy with an imagination so strong, he could make anything he thought of, real. His name was unknown to many, as he never told anyone and his parents were the only people who knew besides him. But his parents were dead. And no one could do anything about that. Not even this young boy. You might think, why can’t he reimagine them back? Well, he never knew them. He didn’t know what they looked like, what qualities they possessed, and how old they were. They had no place in his mind. Besides, he never felt the need for them.
He called kind women “nice lady” and nice men “kind man”. He ran around his small village freely and hopefully. Everyone was nice in his village, and everyone shared despite their poor conditions. He could go up to the pretzel lady and get a pretzel for a cent he found on the ground. He could go to the apple stall and get some apples for helping to pick them. He was such a happy boy, and he was such a mature child. But we all grow, and that’s what he did. So did his imagination.
One day he was eating a pretzel, wishing he could have some cinnamon sugar on it. He loved cinnamon bread but could seldom get it. He could just see the little grains of sugar and golden dust specks on the pretzel. He could smell the spicy sweet fragrance. He closed his eyes imagining this so loved luxury. He imagined so hard, he thought he could actually smell it from beneath his nose. When he opened his eyes and looked at his still warm pretzel, he had to blink several times. There before him was sugary brown grains sitting on his pretzel. He shook his head and looked at his pretzel again. He hastily bit into it, thinking he must be hallucinating. He wasn’t. And that was very clear when he felt the sweet grains on his tongue. He could taste the sharp bite combined with wonderful sweetness. How? He thought. He knew that before he had closed his eyes it had been a plain pretzel.
The boy closed his eyes again. He thought of a new pair of shoes. He imagined their size, shape, materials, their shininess, and even smell. When he reopened his eyes, sitting before him was a pair of shiny new shoes. He wondered if the other villagers were like this. Could they imagine something and it would be there? When he asked the pretzel lady the ‘hypothetical question’, she merely laughed and said, “We wish. But nobody has an imagination that strong.”
The boy nodded. But he knew she was wrong. Somebody had that though. How could his imagination be so different then others? How could he come up with a perfect understanding and picture of what he wanted, but nobody else could? He pondered upon it. It clashed with reality, and it made no sense.
He kept his little secret to himself for a very long time. But one day the pretzel lady ran out of flour. The boy was sad. Not even he could imagine up such good pretzels. He imagined up a bag of flour. He made sure it was the fluffiest, softest, best flour there could ever be. He even imagined a bag for it to come in. He left it on her doorstep for her to find. He then decided to use his “power” for good only.
But sadly, greed overcame this boy. And, as you know, when somebody is overcome by greed, their heart turns to stone. This boy no longer used his secret for good. He only used it for himself. But with this power, he never accomplished anything great. He only accomplished the bad. He envied those who were greater then him. He was jealous of those who were everything he wasn’t.
The boy, now a young man, one day envied someone else so much; he imagined that they would never be remembered. Ever. From then on, that person was known by no one.
The boy was so overcome by jealousy; he imagined that everyone who was ever what he wasn’t would disappear from everyone’s minds. They would seemingly be wiped away from existence. He would make them suffer in their lonely state. He, for some unknown reason, made them remember each other, but no one else would remember them. And he call them The Forgotten.
Ignore it’s cringiness and typos. I wrote that last year (hint to how long writing this novel is taking me).
I hope you enjoyeed my pitiful results and learning some about my novel 😀 . Have a fabulous day!
P. S. I’m doing Loren’s CWWC! If you want to read my entries, click here or go to the page labeled ‘CWWC’ on the menu bar 😀