Okay, here it is. Day 2 of embarrassing myself. It's all for posterity, really.
I'm pretty sure I was 12 when I started my first attempt at a novel, but I can't be absolutely positive because it isn't dated. Isn't it sad to think I was only 12 7 years ago and I can't remember? My poor brain is failing me.
So, this "novel" is titled "Story (novel, really) That's Unnamed". Yup. It's 42 composition notebook pages long, which I think is pretty good, considering how awful it was.
Here's a brief synopsis: Shon, a 13-year-old 8th grader, has a crush on this girl Natalia and they end up being partnered for a school project. Little does he know, his best friend and neighbor, Linda, likes him. Natalia pretends to go out with Shon to get a better grade on the project, and when Linda tries to warn him about her, he yells at Linda. Not-so surprisingly, Linda is right. Natalia is really going out with Shon's friend Max. Drama.
I remember how proud I was of my little "novel". Rereading it now, I can't help but laugh at it's predictability and downright cheesiness. I also wonder why I chose to write in a teenage boy's perspective, especially because I didn't know anything about teenage boys. This paragraph makes me laugh incredibly hard:
The boys discussed their classes, new video games, girls, and cars before lunch was over.
If you didn't laugh at that, I'm slightly concerned.
Later, Shon brags about Natalia to his friends, saying "I soooooo kissed her. More than once."
Crazily enough, my next two novel attempts were from the perspective of teenage boys as well. I wasn't ready for that, though. Recently, I've actually been brainstorming something new about a teenage boy. Maybe it will happen someday.
2 hours ago