Today’s daily prompt: Envelope Pushers
When was the last time you took a risk (big or small), and pushed your own boundaries — socially, professionally, or otherwise? Were you satisfied with the outcome?
I think participating in NaBloPoMo itself is a risk. I hate going into something and not finishing it, so I was very worried about participating because I knew I have I didn’t have a lot of free time this month. Furthermore, I worried about the quality of my posts. I didn’t want to just post something to fulfill my NaBloPoMo requirements; I want my posts to align with why I started this blog.
My blog is all about the things I learn, the perspectives I’ve taken on, and my own self-development through the people I meet, the books I read, the movies I watch, or the experiences I encounter. Strangely enough, sometimes I feel more comfortable having strangers read it than my own friends or family.
I’m glad I am participating in NaBloPoMo. I’ve found some really neat blogs to follow and I have a bunch of new topics to write about after November is over.
My short story series, inspired by NaNoWriMo/NaBloPoMo and the daily prompt.
“Iced coffee, please.”
Samantha returned to Seattle on the morning of December 5th. Horizons was published in March of the New Year. The cover was a dingy photo of the ocean and sun. It became a New York Best-seller in June, four months after its release.
Connor did not read it.
He didn’t have time to read it.
He was too busy writing his own book.
Connor started writing on December 5 and he started by writing like a lunatic. He racked his brain and vomited twenty years of memories, his words a splatter on the forty-page document. That was when he stopped trying to write.
Connor knew he wasn’t a fantastic writer, but he did know what he was good at: making things look nice. He reached this epiphany when he first started being a freelancer. Until then, he had no idea other people didn’t know anything about what makes a document or a website look nice. He had known all about it even back in fourth grade when he appreciated the use of white space and clean typography.
Well, his forty-page document was definitely not implementing white space or typography. In fact, he didn’t really see any beauty in his words and it wasn’t because he sucked at writing; the content itself was ugly. It was written so bitterly.
Connor tried again in January.
He filtered through his word vomit and picked out the words that stood out. He chose the phrases that painted a picture in his mind:
- Green eyes
- Brown ponytail
- White sweater
- Dreamed of being with the stars
- Golden feathers
- Cup of coffee
- Mornings in the library
Then, he started to make it look nice. He drew what he saw when he read those words.
By March, Connor had filled out an entire sketchbook of illustrations. Then slowly, he recreated those illustrations digitally. In June, he started to piece together the story with simple sentences, allowing his illustrations to tell the story.
Connor wasn’t sure how he was going to publish this book. Surely, no publisher would choose to print this. Even with Father’s connection, he wasn’t sure it would go through. Actually, he wasn’t sure if he was going to publish it at all. Maybe he could just use it as a way to get over his one-sided childhood love and move on.
The more Connor thought about it, the more he wanted it to be published. Well, he didn’t actually care about whether or not it sold. He did, however, wanted to get his hands on a hard-copy version to send to Samantha. He spent too long working on it for her not to see it.
What would she do when she saw it? Connor doubted it would change anything. Samantha was not the type of girl to leave everything behind just because a guy wrote a book for her… right?
Connor didn’t want to get his hopes up, but they were probably up from the second he started working on this project.
Every now and then, Connor would stop working on his project and just think about his current situation. He was writing a book. A book! He hated books (unless they were written by Samantha). Stevie’s voice echoed in his head: “You’re like a lost puppy following her around.”
For once, Connor agreed with him. He was a lost puppy following Samantha around. He followed her in high school to the library every day. He followed her to Princeton and to New Jersey. Now he’s following her and writing a book. He spent his whole life trying to impress her.
Connor shook his head. Although he was led by his feelings, it was still a sad life for a man. At least Eric didn’t live his life for someone else- maybe that’s why Samantha was attracted to him.
Then again, what was wrong with that anyways? Yeah he was lost for a while, but he didn’t feel lost anymore. He still liked New Jersey without Samantha. He still liked designing things. He still liked himself.
Connor liked to think that Samantha made him a better person. In her own little ways, she changed him; or, at least, she made him want to change himself. She made him want to do more things and to be more things.
At least he had her to thank for that. Even if she didn’t love him back, this book would be his thank-you to her.
To be continued…