Camp is for Ghost Stories; April 5 2020

Happy CampNaNoWriMo!

If you don’t know what that is, NaNoWriMo is the abbreviation for ‘National Novel Writing Month’. It takes place every November, and by committing to a writing project for the month, the website helps keep you on track towards a goal of 50,000 words. It’s a motivational tool, and one I have a lot of fun with!

Camp NaNoWriMo is similar, hosted by the same people. In April and July, you set your own goal – 10,000 words, 100,000 words, up to you! – and join ‘cabins’ of other writers to cheer each other on.

If you’ve been following my progress at all, you probably already knew about NaNoWriMo, but you might not know much about the project I’m working on. So, let me introduce you to...

THE OTHER FACE OF SYMPATHY.

Inspired by an old fictional blog I wrote, OFOS follows a formerly-homeless transgender man by the name of Edward Barrett. His grandmother recently died in her apartment, leaving everything to Edward as her only living relative. He moves into her place and starts clearing out the sentimental junk, including her old diaries. Not wanting to just toss them, he takes them to a place called Otherside Book Exchange, which accepts books of any sort for trade.

When Edward brings home the journals of total strangers, he winds up immersed in tragic accounts of lives taken too soon. These are the diaries of monsters who were once human. The more he reads, the more he feels... which could prove to be either his strength, or his weakness, when he winds up stalked by an entity called The Shadow Queen. Her diary may teach him how to defeat her, but can he, in good conscience, manage it?

Normally, I plan out all my plots ahead of time. This story is an exception. I wrote 12 diaries for 12 different monsters, and that’s all the prep that went into this manuscript. It’ll be exciting to find out where it goes!

Here’s an excerpt from the first draft that I wrote earlier today. For context, ‘Conscience’ is the owner of Otherside Book Exchange. Warning: body horror incoming, and profanity is used.

Rounded fingernails hook into the crease in her throat, and Conscience pulls the skin up over her chin with a sound like wet adhesive being peeled away. Edward staggers back, and fails not to cry out.

There’s a second face under the flesh-mask. Thick tear tracks interrupt the raw, bloody smears she leaves behind. Blue veins run down her cheeks and pulse without rhythm or regularity, like they’re independent living things, and she peels the irises out of her eyes to reveal blank, spongy white, and she’s crying. Incessantly, tears run down her face, picking up traces of red as they go and staining the hooded collar of her sweater.

Edward’s legs fail him. He stumbles backwards into one of the shelves, toppling books as he slides to the floor. He keeps trying to say something, form a word, but all that comes out are ragged, panicked shouts. Conscience holds her face in both of her hands, head falling forward until her face is tilted towards him.

“I asked that you refrain from screaming.”

Edward clamps his hand over his mouth and bites down on his fingers. It’s agony – he used his injured hand, unthinking – but the pain helps to ground him a bit, contextualizes the moment. Conscience isn’t attacking him. She was telling the truth. He has to pull himself together.

Mercifully, Conscience begins pressing her face back into position, smoothing out lumps and wrinkles with her fingertips. Edward gets to his feet. He weaves, but he’s upright. His mind feels like it’s blank and racing at the same time.

“… What are you?”

Conscience doesn’t reply until she’s sealed up her skin, opening her mouth a few times to check that it’s moving properly. She reaches for her choker. “I have not given myself a name beyond the one I introduced myself with. I am the only one of my kind, and so I did not feel it necessary to group myself under a category.”

“Fuck,” Edward chokes.

“Please do not curse at me.”

“I just found out that fucking monsters are fucking real!” Edward retorts, trying to keep the tremor out of his voice. “I think I’m fucking justified in fucking cursing! Shit!”