NaNoWriMo 2014 – I’m in!

I’ve been wanting to participate in NaNoWriMo for a couple of years now, but I haven’t had a second to spare. I know a lot of people say that, and the usual response is, “You have to MAKE time!”, but sometimes there truly isn’t any time to make. I’ve felt happy for the people who participated, enjoyed watching their journeys and hearing how exciting and stressful (the good kind) it is, but I also kept feeling that tug of “when am I going to get to do this?” So this year, I finally put aside everything else, turned down some opportunities, and am participating! YAY!

Baking tests have been done. I'm now ready to write.

Baking tests have been done. I’m now ready to write.

I’m all set with a novel idea (pun intended) and I can’t wait to get started. I’ve already begun making some notes in a gorgeous, inspirational notebook I’m sure you’ll see on Twitter soon. I’ve started a Pinterest board that has inspirations and historically accurate bits and bobs from the Victorian era I’ll need. I’ll reveal the official title of the book in the next couple of days as well as a working cover (if that’s not a real thing, it will be now). Scrivener is set up with some character information and scene ideas ready and waiting. Research books have been acquired. An entire writing getaway weekend has been planned. I’m really into this.

In case you’re a fellow NaNoWriMo-ist, connect with me and let’s be writing buddies! My name on there is simply Christie Stratos, no unusual screen name, no weird spacing. I’m looking forward to meeting some new writing peeps.

I’ll be blogging about my experience as well as regularly tweeting (@ChristieStratos), so keep in touch there too.

**If you don’t know what NaNoWriMo is, check it out here and join in the fun!**

Wisdom’s Creation

Here is my response to Thoughts on Toast‘s writing prompt: “If you could bookmark life”. It took its own turns, as writing prompts are meant to do, and doesn’t actually include any bookmarks. Hope you enjoy it!


My finger slides from one book to the next in a library of hard and soft covers, new and old. This place is my haven, my core. Spiraling books as high as the eye can see. But I can’t reach them all. My ladder is only so tall, and so much is out of my reach. Beautiful old books with secrets I may never know, too far away, and yet right within eyesight, within yearning’s distance.

I settle for what I can reach.

A faded red book, hard cover made softer from constant use, threads protruding from the edges. The pages are thick, their corners crinkled and fuzzy. The words say things I already know. The font and spacing is irrelevant. But the fact that it’s there, that I can open that red book any time…it’s priceless.

A black book with a lime green border, soft cover. The glossy front is new and seemingly untouched, and yet I understand every nuance of what it offers. I have read it and will read it until the day I die, and its contents will still be relevant and necessary.

I roll the ladder to another section of books. I can reach five shelves without the ladder, ten shelves with it. But there are enumerable shelves above the ones I can reach, the volumes of books thicker, taller, more detailed. The depths of their contents are not things I can understand from their spines; their titles are virtually unreadable to me. I am a novice, an eager learner of all these waiting shelves have to offer. And the only way to reach the books I yearn for is to write my own and rewrite my own based on what I’ve read until I just barely touch on what it takes to understand the next shelf. And when I get there, there is a book with which to start and a book with which to finish. There is a page on which I must begin and an epilogue with which I must end. And each and every book is just the beginning of the next and the next.

I am eager to begin.

And begin again.