Wow, that's a really long title. But don't worry, readers. I will deliver on what I have promised.
Last night, after several hours of writing, I decided it was finally time to save, quit, and head to bed. I sauntered into my bathroom to brush my teeth. Halfway through applying the toothpaste to the toothbrush, I got the uncanny sense that someone was watching me. Glancing around, I noticed that the bathroom was still empty of all felines, so I knew that my audience wasn't furry, or friendly.
Yes, I'm going there.
My spider-sense was tingling.
And not the kind that tells me that there's an armed gunman holding up a bank teller on Main Street in Gotham.
But the kind that tells me there's a creepy crawly somewhere within 10 feet of me.
Determined not to be run out of my own bathroom, I continued to brush my teeth while scanning the corners for any lurkers. And that's when I see it...tucked into a corner on the ceiling.
 |
| Those are his "I'm Going To Kill You" eyes. |
Now granted, this wasn't a very big spider. In fact, without my glasses on and while squinting, it was barely bigger than an ant.
However, there are two very distinct reasons why this spider freaked me out beyond reason. Number one: It was on the ceiling. Which means at any given moment, it could drop down on me unawares and land somewhere on my body. Like, in my hair. *shudder* And Number two: I was home alone. As in, sans husband. As in, there was no one at home to rescue me from the arrant arachnid taking up residence in my bathroom.
So I did the only logical thing there was to do. I closed the door and spat my toothpaste into the kitchen sink. I stuffed a towel under the door so the little bugger couldn't escape. And I left my husband a note to vanquish the evil beastie.
I will not be bested by an eight-legged insect.
*****
In other news, my novel writing for NaNoWriMo is going smashingly well. I crossed the 10,000 word mark last night, and I'm just plowing right along. I'm feeling really confident about the quantity of the words I've written, and I've got to say, I'm feeling pretty good about the quality as well.
Of course, I'm still in the stage of writing the part of the book I'd envisioned all along.
Who knows what will happen when I get beyond that point. Seriously, who knows? Anybody? Would you be interested in cluing me in?
However, I do have a slight problem. I'm having a bit of a novel identity crisis.
There are several genres to choose from when it comes to classifying your novel on the NaNo website, and I'm flip flopping between Chick Lit and Mainstream Fiction. Or possibly Humor.
I originally planned to go with Chick Lit, but when I checked into the forums, a lot of the authors there were describing books that sounded like a cross between romance and erotica. And while my tale may include a bit of flirtation, I don't forsee a major romance involved in the plot. At least not in the FIRST 50,000 words. (Maybe something sexy will happen later. We'll see.)
That being said, the mainstream fiction forum is all over the place. There seems to be a bit of everything over there, and it feels a little like I'd get lost in the shuffle.
So, I'm going to ask for your help again, readers. Below, I'm going to entice you with a blurb from my novel, working title "Lena and the Boys," and let you decide how I should categorize it.
*****
Synopsis:
Lena went to all the right schools, followed all the right paths, and shook all the right hands. And yet, 8 years out of New York University, she still finds herself in a dead-end job, working out of a tiny cubicle, with nothing to look forward to each day. The only thing that gets her through is her infatuation with The Beantown Boys, the boy band from her childhood. She's been in love with Derrick Walsh, the band's "bad boy," since she was 10 years old. And when she finds him on Twitter, it's only a matter of time before 10 minutes of internet time a day turn into hours of stalking. In the past few weeks, the band has been hinting at some major announcement, and their biggest fans are all a flutter. Lena has no idea, when she enters her cubicle on a random Thursday afternoon, that her life is about to change in a major way--and all because of a contest on her favorite social networking site.
Brief Excerpt:
The bright pink page of Perez Hilton’s internet tabloid popped onto Lena's computer screen. At the top read the headline “The Beantown Boys Summer Reunion: True or False?” Below it was a fuzzy picture of Derrick, Corey, Chris and Zac sitting around a table in one of the many Manhattan street-side cafes. Lena scanned the article.
Could it be?
Is it true?
Are The Beantown Boys finally going to make millions of middle-aged women’s dreams come true?
The scuttlebutt about the internet is yes. The BBoys of 1989 fame are looking to make a comeback.
And they’re hoping the throngs of teenage girls that followed them around twenty-some years ago are going to be just willing to find babysitters, take vacation days, and leave their husbands at home to follow them around the world again.
According to a recent Tweet from Derrick Walsh: “BBoy Sisters are in for the biggest XMAS gift, ever! Stay tuned for deets, my sweets! Word!”
It could be the December we’ll always remember, girls. As Derrick says, stay tuned! The big announcement is coming today, at noon. Look for a video posted by none other than Derrick himself! Twitter, here we come!
Lena’s heart was pounding in her ears. She sat back heavily in her chair, glanced over shoulder at Greg, and grinned. “So Greg,” she asked. “What are your Christmas plans this year? Wanna take off for 2 weeks and buy up all the concert tickets we can afford?”
An evil grin crossed Greg’s face. “I’m sure Gram would understand if I told her I was going to miss her famous pumpkin pies for the chance to throw my $45 underwear on the stage at Chris Knox.”
They giggled conspiratorially. Mr. Cox cleared his throat somewhere from the depths of his office. Greg blanched. “I’d better get back to work. I’ve still got 3 more reports to finish. What do you say—lunch, noon, Davis Square?”
“Be there, or be square.” Lena said.
“Oh no you didn’t.”
“Oh yes. Yes I did.”
She turned to her computer screen and scrolled back up to the picture of the group sitting around the table. They looked happy. Excited, she decided. And Lena decided she was going to be excited, too. After all, what else was going to keep her mood elevated for the next 3 hours? ATP reports? She didn’t think so.
*****
And before you ask, I have no idea what ATP stands for. Something...important, I'm sure.
So now it's up to you, readers! Just one little click and you'll help me with my identity crises in no time! (No surgery required!)
Thanks in advance for your help. Again. I swear, if I ever get this novel published, I'll dedicate it to Abby Gabbers everywhere.
