Dear November,
I played with the band again tonight at the game, and it was freezing. The leggings I wore under my jeans barely helped. My toes were numb; fingers frozen, yet somehow I managed to play. How was your Friday?
When I were practicing with the honor band kids, we took a photo (photos) for the paper and honestly, who knew Ryan was such a model? Tall, intelligent, and weirdly good at posing for the camera. He's not into me. I need to get over him. (this is the boy I wrote about first to you)
I worked a little on my story, but it's not getting far. It's hard. But this one means a lot to me, and I really hope I can steel myself into not giving up on it. Even if it runs past November (which it will). I'll try different things: 3rd person, POV switching, slight plot alterations; I want to love it in any form and try it in any form. Stories are like little kids in the way you have to nurse them to health where they can take off on their own. I'd like to think my story's still in the womb right now. It's forming characters and word choice and make-out scenes that have yet to solidify. Maybe an arm'll end up where the leg should be, and it'll be something great and terrible and ghastly. Stories like that, I think, are what I aim for.
Sincerely, Esther
P.S. our drum major is completely for crap (it was the one that bombed it)
YOU ARE READING
dear november
Non-FictionThis is a compilation of letters I wrote daily during the month of November, starting November fourth, skipping one day? two days? and ending on November 30th. Originally done on Polyvore, by @writingtips' and @smileylina 's suggestion, who got the...
