Skip to main content

My Work in Progress


I've finished the first draft of my novel. It feels kind of surreal that I actually wrote an entire book. It's still a work in progress and not completely done, but I've written an entire draft and I'm very proud of myself for doing it. Without giving anything away, my story's premise is basically about a boy who is emotionally sensitive and a girl who has a disease that causes her not to feel pain. They face their own struggles and learn valuable lessons while navigating their lives and the world around them. 
I researched Congenital Insensitivity to Pain(the condition my female main character has) and came across some heart-wrenching articles. When you think of pain, you try to do everything in your power to avoid it. But the thing that we often don't realise, is that pain is vital to survival. It can heal as much as it hurts. It's a part of life and it's sad to think that there are people who aren't able to experience it. As much as it sounds appealing to be free from pain, children who grow up without it, are in constant danger. As I was reading those stories, I felt a new appreciation for being able to feel pain. 
My other main character is a highly sensitive male, so I read articles and watched videos on life as a male HSP. As an HSP myself, I know how the world can feel too hard to be in. Sometimes the struggles of being highly sensitive makes one feel as if it's more of a curse than a blessing. But there are so many positive things about being an HSP. It's truly a gift. As a female HSP, it's already challenging. But there's a stigma in society surrounding a man who shows his emotions and sensitivity. There's this preconceived notion about what a man should be. The correlation between masculinity and sensitivity is an intriguing concept and I wanted to explore that. 
The contrast between the main characters is something I found interesting. But within their differences, they find similarities and they discover that they have more in common than they thought. The contrast between them is also part of what unites them. They play musical instruments as a way of coping with everything they go through. 
On the internet, I heard about the terms 'plotter' and 'pantser.' A plotter plans and a pantser goes with the flow. I consider myself a pantser, but I've learned that I'm actually both. I like going with the flow, but I also like having some kind of guide that I can use in the writing process. I created an outline with sticky notes and it was a big help! That doesn't mean I never got stuck. My mind went blank numerous times. But the outline was nice to have because I knew what to write. I also don't see why writers need to label themselves as either a plotter or a pantser. Just do whatever works for you. 
I've also written a short story that I'm going to publish soon. It's a story about family, independence, love and compassion and I'm so excited to share it! 



Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

a life so small – A poem inspired by A Little Life by Hanya Yanagihara

How much can one achieve  in a little life?  a life so small  How do you go about the day  always getting in your own way?  Clinging to skyscrapers tall  Your friends are there  yet you don't know why they care  Jumping from fire escapes  you're so used to the fall  The bruises, broken bones, bleeding  you think they don't see  when you've held the shining thing  to your torn-up skin  a certain kind of dependency  You let yourself shiver  in spite of the arms that long  to cradle you Cry yourself a river  until your hollow spaces  leave no traces  Forlorn jungle eyes gaze at portraits  that, despite their beauty,  bring you shame  soothes and destroys just like your name  because you were baptised  in the kind of water  that doesn't cleanse  but drowns  What colours do you use to paint  a lost cause  who's also a patron saint?...
Post a Comment
Read more

Where Are You Going, Where Have You Been? by Joyce Carol Oates — The Aftertaste of Short Stories

There are some stories you finish… and then there are stories that stay. This one didn’t just stay—it lingered, like a shadow in the corner of the room that you keep checking, just in case it moved. Arnold Friend. I still can’t get him out of my head. At first, he almost feels ridiculous. The way he talks, the way he looks—it’s slightly off, slightly strange. But then something shifts. The more he speaks, the more the air changes. It’s like watching something reveal itself slowly, and realizing too late that it was never harmless to begin with. There’s this quiet dread that builds. Not loud. Not dramatic. Just… inevitable. Connie feels so real. That in-between space—wanting to be seen, wanting attention, playing at being older than she is. And then suddenly she’s faced with something she doesn’t understand, can’t control, and can’t escape from. That’s what made it so terrifying for me. Not anything supernatural. Not anything graphic. Just a girl, a house, a man outside—and ...
Post a Comment
Read more

The Doll–Master by Joyce Carol Oates — The Aftertaste of Short Stories

I'm scarred for life... but fascinated. I have a fear of dolls(pediophobia), which made the plot of this tale even more unsettling.  It’s the way he thinks he’s saving them. That’s what’s rotting in my mind. He looks at a vibrant, messy, living girl and sees something 'broken' that only he can 'fix' by making her sit still forever. My skin feels tight just thinking about it.  Because I have this fear, every mention of a glass eye or a stiff limb feels like a needle prick. He isn't just a collector; he’s a taxidermist of the spirit. He wants the world to be a shelf where nothing ever moves, nothing ever changes, and nothing ever leaves him. The stillness isn't peace. It's a scream that’s been painted over with a smile.
Post a Comment
Read more