Sits writing a novel!
Not that I’ve ever done that <cough>.
I’m am writing my 50,000 word novel for National Novel Writing Month. I wasn’t going to show it to anyone, but then Doctor Rob went and shared the first part of his NaNoWriMo novel and I can’t let him show me up!
So here’s the first few words of mine.
It’s about a woman experiencing life changes in the world of the 21st century. Or, more prosaically, you could call it “Menopause is Hell, Where is my Handbasket?”
Remember, this excerpt is merely a draft.
But sharing it makes me accountable for finishing.
Ladies and gentlemen, the world premier of the very first part of “Whatever I Finally Decide to Call It”:
“Why the hell did I walk into the kitchen?
“I swear I have Alzheimer’s,” Kathy thought as she stood with bare feet on the cold linoleum, frustration mounting.
It was happening more often: forgetting why she entered a room, losing her train of thought mid-sentence, and a she had a very disconcerting inability to concentrate.
“It’s not Alzheimer’s, it’s this f****** menopause,” Karen decided. All you hear growing up is how wonderful your body changes will be when you “become a woman”, but no one bothers to tell you what happens when it all goes south. Literally, Everything droops. Your body begins masquerading as a dessicated sea sponge by day that floats off the bed at night in a sweat tsunami. Okay, that they tell you.
But no one tells you your mind goes to hell in a hand basket.
No one talks about your overwhelming urge to jettison your husband, quit your job and move to the coast to sell jewelry at craft fairs after you get your PhD, write a book, learn Spanish, lose 50 pounds and begin the seven-day-a-week work out program you’ve been meaning to develop. How ironic, Kathy thought, to have the urge to do so many things all at once when you don’t have the motivation to even get up and wash your hair.
Shampoo! That was what she had come to the kitchen for!
She’d have to talk to her Steven about remembering to return it to the bathroom the next time he decided to use her designer salon hair products to wash the dog. At least she didn’t have to worry about doggy odor. BigDog smelled like coconuts. Very expensive coconuts. She grabbed the bottle quickly, so she wouldn’t forget again and dragged herself upstairs to wash her hair. Motivated or not, she didn’t have a choice, she was going to work that night.
Can’t be going into work looking scuzzy, she told herself.
Even if it is the night shift.
Of course any resemblance to any person, living or dead is purely coincidental….