It’s NaNoWriMo and if you’re participating, good luck! For this month I’m posting snippets of things I’ve worked on during previous NaNoWriMos.
I did rebel NaNoWriMo in 2016 and wrote original fiction and fanfic, counting all the words towards my overall goal.
This snippet is from an original piece I’ve got some notes for but haven’t written much of the story. This conversation is between a woman with healing abilities who accidentally healed a man who now finds himself unable to be the disability advocate he’d become.
“I suppose I should go back to marketing.”
He shook his head. “Because I’m good at it.”
“I’d never have left it,” he said, “except the accident gave me – an excuse, I suppose. And I reinvented myself. And now you’ve taken that from me.”
She sighed, lowered her gaze. “I cannot apologise enough. I have told you over and over I always ask for consent, and would never have done this to you on purpose. Bodily autonomy is sacrosanct to me. It was an accident.”
“Another accident,” he said bitterly. “And now I have my old life back and I don’t want it!”
She moved to stand in front of him, gazed into his eyes. “Then reinvent yourself once more. What do you want to do?”
He hesitated only a moment. “I want to sing. I want to make music.”
Her mouth opened into a surprised O. “And what is stopping you?”
“I’m not good enough.” He gave a bitter laugh. “Do you know what it is to want something and have people belittle it?”
He didn’t give her a chance to respond. He began listing the depreciative comments, angrier and more upset with each one he ticked off on his fingers. “I’m a musician but you’re not good enough to be one. I’m a musician but you’re just an amateur. I’m a musician but you should try recording jingles for radio shows or some shit. I’m a musician but you should be a record promoter!”
She let him rant. She’d never understood why people felt the need to interrupt at moments at like these. The more she dealt with pain, the more she realised that sometimes what people needed most of all was to be heard. It was only when she was sure he had finished, when he took a ragged breath, that she spoke.
“I’m sorry,” she told him. “People will always try to steer you from your dreams. But you can’t let them.”
“But what if they’re right?” He blinked rapidly, sniffed. “What if I fail? What if I’m not good enough?”
“Who cares? You can’t succeed first time, every time. You can’t get better without practice. There will always be someone better than you but that doesn’t mean you aren’t good at something.” She placed her hands on his shoulders. He flinched but didn’t pull away. What further harm could she do him now?
He considered her words, moistened his lips. “I’m not used to doing things I’m not already good at.”
“Well that doesn’t sound good for personal growth,” she said. “I keep playing Sudoku. I suck at it, but I still get pleasure from it, and the thrill of actually completing a game is worth any frustration.”
“You do know attempting to start a music career when you’re not a sixteen year old with contacts in the record industry is nothing like dabbling in Sudoku?”
She smiled at the chiding tone. He’d regained his equilibrium. “I might have contacts. I know a lot of people – or so I’m told. I have my team who handle the details. I will help you, if you will allow me to. It is the least I can do.”