Maggie felt herself being pulled up. She had been expecting the pull, had been ready to welcome it. Now that the time was upon her, she wasn’t ready for it. She didn’t want to leave her family. She didn’t want to leave anyone behind. In her world, when one reached a certain age, they were drafted into the service of the Master in the Sky. No one had seen the Master. No one was seen after they were drafted. Not everyone was drafted. Tests, lots of tests, were given. It was nearly impossible to purposely fail them, though a few had tried. Read more Random Fiction!
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This novel is seriously starting to drag on. I’m not even sure if I like it. Okay, I really like some of the characters but Alex is coming off as really whiny and wimpy. I do not want another damn Bella Swan character. I refuse to be that Stephanie Meyer clone who writes crappy, cheesy shit. This is not the type of novels that I enjoy. I got bored with the one I was reading yesterday because it was “Bad home, no love, but I’m in love” kind of story. It was just. Blech. I just didn’t like it at all. Sometimes I wonder why I even started this writing crap. I’m not that good. No one really likes it. They just say they do because it shuts me up. I don’t really know why I wanted to do this. Yeah, I have stories stuck in my head, but I also have pictures in my head. Pictures that I’ll never get just like I see them inside my head to turn out just the way I envision them. So, why do I think I can do the same with the books? Why do I think I’ll have a chance at actually publishing something? Why do I think I can even make it and do well? Really, what is the point? And now I really hate myself for even writing THIS because it makes me feel like I’m just asking for validation, though no one is going to see it. No one will probably see the novel. I’m not even sure if I’m going to win this year. I’m so freaking far behind that it’s not even funny. I want to win. I won two years in a row. I need a chance to win now. I need to prove to myself that I can do it. I need to prove to myself that my novels don’t suck. I need to prove to myself that I don’t suck. So, suck it up buttercup, and write the damn novel. Just go with the flow, write what you feel, what you think, what you like. It’ll come, when it is supposed to come. Eventually you’ll get there. You’ll get there with what you need. It might not be the best writing in the world. It might not even be a novel worth selling, but you wrote that book. YOU wrote that book. YOU did it, not someone else. You wrote it. Your ideas put that pen to paper, so to speak. You have the backing of the most amazing man in the world, and you have the backing of some pretty bad ass awesome friends. You’re not going to let them down if you don’t write a best seller. You’re going to let them all down if you don’t even make the attempt. You’re going to let yourself down if you don’t just go for it and write. That’s what you have to do. No one else is going to do it for you. Don’t turn into Pretty. Don’t make this a “I hate my novel” National Novel Writing Month. Make this a SARAH month. Make this a month about doing all that you can do to make yourself better than you think you are. Prove to yourself that you can do it. Prove to the world that they were wrong. You don’t have to prove it to them, but you do have to prove it to yourself. Do this. Do it now. Write, my little bumblebee, write. Get that story out of your head and onto paper. Eventually, it’ll become something. It might not be today, and it might not be tomorrow, but it’ll be something. It’ll be something big, something spectacular. Even if it falls flat, you’ll know that you took that step. That step forward that made you prove to the world, and yourself, that you’re not just a pathetic waste of space. You’re not that. You’ll never be that. You never have been that. You are strong. You are amazing. You can do it. Nothing and no one can stop you, except yourself.