Posts may be few and far between, and they may not have pretty pictures. Or be properly edited. You see, I am on a really tight time budget, but I cannot forsake my blog altogether. So it may all just be about my NaNo experience, so feel free to scroll past. I won’t be offended at all.
Sunday morning arrived at 3am when the buzzer went off. I wiped my eyes and couldn’t believe that the day had finally arrived. I was as excited as my five-year-old granddaughter before her school concert. And just as nervous.
I had the main character sorted, a young girl named Orpah. Poor thing, can’t think why I saddled her with such a dowdy name, because she is anything but…
Orpah had settled within my psyche on Saturday and I knew the story would be her story; no omniscient narrator, and Ben (her husband) would remain silent. But I had no idea where the story would begin. It was a blank page moment, that scary space between nothing but a vague idea and the place where the outline of a character steps into the twilight, before emerging into the sunshine of reality. Sort of reality, anyway.
And then I heard her voice. Not in the literal sense, but I felt who she was, and in the blink of cursor, I knew, admired, and even loved this woman, Orpah. I knew that I was privileged above all others to be able to tell her story. And I was humbled because I knew that the story could have been given to any other writer who was as desperate as I was to have a NaNo tale.
Orpah, I will tell your story as faithfully as I can. I will inhabit your thoughts, your heartache, and your longings for this month of November. All I ask is that you show me your joys and your secret whisperings of love, spoken when no one else is near. Reveal to me the purpose of your life, your story, and I will tell it as you tell it to me. That is my gift to you, in return for the gift of your story to me.