November’s whirlwind has ended, and a new one has begun with Christmas just around the corner. How did everyone fare with National Novel Writing Month?
Maybe you’re a bit like me and “underperformed.” If you are—don’t get discouraged. Although I did not reach my personal goal of 60K, I did complete nearly half of it, stopping at 28K. I don’t see it as a failure, especially when taking other creative endeavors in account. I started this blog AND selling books on Instagram. I think the key is continuing the practice of making. Carving out that time. Keeping the willpower to continue. Maintaining a creative life.
I’ll be writing 1,000 per day in December to reach my Nanowrimo goal. This includes all writing. Even blog posts. Don’t limit yourself to one story. I know from experience that that it can stifle your creativity. I have to take periodic “breaks” and work on something else to keep my thoughts fresh.
Watch for various writing prompts this month, and indefinitely. These longer “fills” require more space than Instagram provides, although they will still be somewhat short. I hope you enjoy them. Sometimes I’ll use original characters. Other times, I’ll work with established characters from movies and books. It should help keep things interesting here.
The first prompt is Internal Monologues and Distinct Voices. I was inspired to write from Bruce Wayne’s POV post-The Dark Knight Rises, as he heads for another part of the country, leaving Gotham behind. Since this is internal dialogue, thoughts from any given character may run together, sound disjointed, or even strike you as awkward. Hopefully, they’ll ring true to the character.
Which brings me to this next point. Ever since I read The Masterpiece by best-selling author, Francine Rivers, I’ve been a bit freer, so to speak, with my own writing, going as far as sharing some of it publicly. Her character, Roman, resembles Bruce Wayne. In fact, there are numerous references to the Batman comics in this story. I won’t elaborate on all that I caught, because it would spoil things for you as a reader, but Roman leads a secret life, sometimes on rooftops. She even named one character Talia. This intrigued me, to say the least. I devoured that book. I’m a little surprised that no one else caught on to it in any of the reviews I’ve read. I’m curious to know what inspired her to integrate it so deftly. (I’m actually dying to know all about it but too chicken to ask! She was my absolute favorite author in high school and college and remains one of my dearest favorites to this day. I’m not sure I’d get a response, but I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to try.)
Without further ado, the first little prompt.
He’s drinking cold, bitter coffee in the back corner of a roadside cafe, not a familiar criminal in sight. He’d never thought he’d be doing this in a million years. The sweats he should have trashed months ago are worn thin at the knees and have a new hole in the right pocket. He can’t even keep a decent amount of spare change with him—spent all his money on a bus ride here—and borrowed from the cashier. No pennies. No milk or sugar. No Joker or Rachel or anyone else demanding that he give himself up.
Some billionaire he is. He’ll have to bum a ride—or steal one. And he’ll turn himself in of his own accord, if it comes to that. Not to a prison, or an orange jumpsuit. No, he’ll keep his black, thank you, and leave half of himself back in the city of his birth, with an old man who’ll likely die before they see each other again and it’s his fault. His fault. His fault. And why had he stopped here to think and get coffee, when he should keep running to the Golden State as planned, the other side of the country to meet her, but where there’s ‘no place for his brooding kind,’ like Selina keeps telling him? Because, of course, she’s right. The tables are turned. He’s letting her down this time, and he can’t ‘be different’ to fit in, can’t remake who he’d become on that mountain.
He’s Bruce—and a coward who can’t fathom paving a new life for himself—or with her—when he’s stuck in his old one—and he’s headed for the door already, and he’ll finish his coffee when his secrets stay buried long enough for him to escape his own world again. Because leaving?
Had been a mistake.
