Wow, y’all!! I made it to 10,000 words!!! It’s not quite half, more like a fourth. But one week in and I’m still going!! Whew!! 😀
Short Synopsis: (the same thing I have up on the NaNo website)
Destiny Caldwell had everything a teenaged girl would want. Lots of friends, a good dog, and great grades. She was one of the most popular kids in school.
But then, It happened. Dizziness struck her at lunch. Over the next couple days, other symptoms flashed up. She stayed in bed, held captive by her unknown sickness. By the end of the week, she was completely deaf. Only then did they learn the name of her attacker, Cogan’s Syndrome. The family she once despised became the only ones who stayed by her side. Now trying to build her life up again, she finds out what really matters in life.
And Who really cares.
And an Novel Excerpt:
Bella is my best friend. She’s warm, generous, forgiving, enthusiastic, encouraging, comforting, knowing, peaceful. She stays when everyone else leaves, she comes when others departs, she presses close as you cry and sits there in comfort. Look down into her brown eyes and it’s like she’s looking back into the depths of your soul, much deeper than even you yourself have ever gone. She sees every struggle, every frustration, everything I’ve tried to hide so desperately from everyone, including myself. Even when she sees what I’m really made of, when she sees the inner me that I hide from everyone because of it’s ugliness, still she stays.
And for the life of me, I can’t figure out why. I’m so dirty, I’m cowardly, bashful, grumpy, angry, hypocritic, flawed. I’m so me. I’m Destiny, Destiny Joy Caldwell. I’m every soon-to-be mother’s worst nightmare of what their kid will be like in their teenage years.
Neither of us is very normal in this duo.You see, Bella is a Blue Heeler, Australian Shepherd, and Border Collie mix. And me, I’m as deaf as Helen Keller. I doubt I’ll ever be as famous as her though, so there’s absolutely no point in being deaf.
Unfortunately, I don’t get to choose. Since there’s no choosing, I’m stuck with this dumb thing. And for that reason, Bella is my best—and only—friend.
Bella was given to me Before.
A white car pulled into our gravel driveway. An older man pulled himself out of the passenger seat. I’ll always remember him by his shuffled gait, but Mom remembers how nicely his shirt was pressed and Dad remembers his dark brown, dusty—and a little bit muddy—cowboy boots. A woman about the same age as the man nimbly slipped out of the driver’s seat. Her hair was white, not grey—as if that makes a difference—and she seemed quite excited about…life itself? Or maybe she’d just become a great-grandma. I don’t know. I don’t suppose I ever will.
Ole Cowboy Hat caught sight of Dad on the porch and headed up towards him. Mrs. Spry Step followed him up and asked to talk to Dad alone. Dad cocked his head at me and I slipped inside. They talked for a good half hour to forty-five minutes before Dad called me back out. “We’re going to go to their place,” he said, “to meet someone and see what you two think of each other.”
Three hours later and I sitting on the ground as a squirming flash of black and white wiggles and squiggles it’s way around me. She jumps on my lap for half a second to give me a big, juicy swipe across the face and then is racing in circles around me once more. I catch ahold of her somehow and pull her into my lap. I slowly stroke her and she calms down, pressing into me.
I hear Cowboy Hat behind me, “We were praying that we’d find the right person for that dog.”
“We would keep her if we could. See, Dale had plans to start training her for sheep work. But there’s been some medical difficulties in the family, and…it’s just not possible for us to keep going like this.” Spry Step adds.
Cowboy Hat—I guess he’s Dale—brings out a crate and I slowly stick her inside. “Don’t worry.” I whispered to her, feeling her sinking from Cloud Nine. “I’ll get you out as soon as possible.” Dad carried it and I brought Bella home.
That was Before, when I could hear her. I would scratch her stomach and she would whine with pleasure. A car would pull in and she would bark. When she did her wiggle dance, she would pant and laugh.
And I heard her.
But not anymore.
No. This is After.
And I don’t hear anything now.