Okay, Bedful of Moonlight‘s completed. I actually finished the last page last Thursday, and was late for my meeting with the gang because I was still trawling for quotes to stick on every chapter. It’s really difficult looking for them. They have to go with what the chapter is about, and I wanted them to be quotes from writers, because, you know, the characters are voracious readers and all.
So, yes, I’m done. Well, with the first draft, that is. But I’ve been working on editing it since then. I’m on page 165 now. Hopefully, I can finish editing it by the end of this week (even more hopefully, today or tomorrow), so I can query Michelle. Omg, please don’t let her reject me again. I can’t take it.
Oh, and I’ve come up with a semblance of a plot for my next story! Yupp. I spent my weekend scribbling furiously in my notebook (“Why do you write everywhere you go?” cried my exasperated dad, who, thankfully, did not demand to see what I was writing) and delving into the characters I’ve just created. She someone really different from all the others I’ve come up with. She’s not really a loner, or someone with fantasy romantic ideals; she’s not reeling from someone’s death, or falling for someone with a dark secret. She is, in fact, quite self-sufficient and assertive. I can already see how tough it’ll be to write in her POV, because goodness knows I’m nothing like her, but it’ll be interesting, I’ll bet.
And, of course, there is a boy (more on him in a bit). There always is, like what Sarah Dessen said. I think all writers write books that they would like to read. I mean, I like dark dramatic romance stories and flowers and books and quiet nights and a quiet little estate with trees and winding lanes, so I write about them. Writers, I suppose, live out their fantasies through their writing.
And you know what? I just realised something, on my way to help my grandmother with the groceries on Saturday. My neighbourhood actually reminds me a lot of Wroughton. It’s true! Every day when I walk back from the swimming complex near my house, I see this pavement that runs along a quiet narrow road lined with matured trees and a row of low houses. The sky is always blue (okay, at least for these past couple of months) and there are butterflies flitting about and birds calling. It’s just so peaceful and pretty. Also, on my way to the market, there’s a grass patch near the community centre where several bicycles are parked to a few short stumpy trees. And you know in Wroughton, hardly anybody drives around. They walk or cycle (my ideal estate), and that just reminded me so much of it.
So, how about that, huh? Who knew I’d drawn so much inspiration for Wroughton estate from my own neighbourhood. By the way, for those of you who don’t know, Wroughton estate is a quiet little private estate where my stories take place. It’s quite an isolated but close-knit community where everyone knows everything about everyone (that’s the downside).
Okay, so the boy. Wait, you know what? I’m not going to talk about it here. Not when it’s not really all that developed yet. I do know the title of the new story will be Mint, though. Yes, just Mint. I know, hard to believe, that for someone as long-winded as me, I actually came up with a one-word title. But I do have my reasons for coming up with that title.
But I do need, once again, some help with names. In Lilies, the characters were Connell and Raven. In Moonlight, it was Kristen and Caleb (and it took us all a long time to come up with those two names; blame it on my pickiness). So, in Mint? Any suggestions? No Marthas, or Emilys, or Davids, or Joshuas, or Jasons, or Christinas. I want something memorable and nice-sounding, but not too outlandish. Like Raven. Or Caleb. You know?