Book Written In First Person Novels & Stories

Novels, grimoires, Shakespeare, Edgar Allan Poe, Emily Dickinson. Wait, what? The Emily Dickinson? She hid most of her poems until the day she died, but looking at this book, holding it, it feels like everything she had written is in here. It's a lot, there were still poems of her that I haven't read yet, I never knew about its existence until now. I quickly opened the book and the pages were amazing, you know that scent of old books? This one has it, that one familiar scent of home, of comfortability, of coffee in the early morning while it's raining. I stopped on a particular poem, one I've read over and over again. I'm Nobody! Who are you?

I look forward to it actually. Thank you reader, this was my first book and had difficulties because of lack of experience and tight schedule but seeing you people reading it, I feel motivated Thank you once iagin guys. See you in my next book (CEOs love; My little wife is cute)

- HAZEL - I'm stuck in a spot here. After my recent conviction, I finally know what to write in my book. I'm just writing my story in a third person's pov or narrative point of view, in my opinion, while switching a few things or making a few tweaks here and there.

It wasn't “me” In a fit of frustration, I pushed the books aside, opened a new document, and started to write. Not as a student, but as a woman. I wrote about the first time I realized my own body was a currency, a thing to be commented on, to be judged. I wrote about the thrill of a first kiss, the hollow ache of a first heartbreak, the simmering resentment of being told to be "good" and "nice." I wove my own experiences into the fabric of her prologue, my modern voice a dissonant, jarring harmony against her medieval one.

The author was not even mentioned at all' He thought as he was intrigued enough to know the reason but because he couldn't bear to leave his curiosity behind he flipped the pages. Until he reads the first words that made his whole being surprise 'It was a story but was it all true along? It was like their diary that others are reading without the permission of the one who wrote it' He was surprised because the book was based on someone else's life. He felt like an intruder who is reading someone else's life story. But because the words were captivating enough to read he never had any second thought to continue reading it

Chapter 100(whew!!!) The Author's Yap If you've made it here... Hi. First of all, thank you. Seriously, thank you. This is my very first completed novel, and I honestly don't know how to explain what this journey has been like. Before writing this book, I worked as a ghostwriter. My job was simple in comparison. I was given outlines, chapter breakdowns, character directions, and all I had to do was bring someone else's vision to life. It wasn't easy, but there was always a map.

POV Samantha ** As we lingered over the remains of our picnic, the conversation flowed easily. I found myself telling him everything about my book: the initial struggle with writer's block, the characters that felt like old friends, and the thrill of finally typing "The End." I told him about the subtle details I’d woven into the story and the themes I hoped would resonate with readers. It was a side of myself I rarely shared, and he listened intently, asking thoughtful questions.

“Because sometimes pride is too big for words.” Calla – POV That night, I placed both books side by side on my desk. River’s first novel. My second. And a third notebook beside them—blank. Waiting. Not for closure. But for whatever comes next. Because my story didn’t start with my birth. It started the moment I chose to tell it.

“Huh?” AUTHORS NOTE: Alright, I think I'm not very good at writing in first pov since it's my first time and that's why I'm still mixing first and authors together so as to give myself some momentum and also describe what's going on with others. However, if you think that authors pov suits me more or first pov suits me more, could you please say in the comment section? Thankuuu

Crap, this is all I need. His eyes narrowed but he didn’t say a word and i remember his question “Charlotte, but I prefer Charlie” “Then Charlie it is, I am Alexander and I shall see you later” “Well Charlie, that was weird” I often find talking to myself helpful. When I reached down to grab another book out my bag, a bag of apple slices had appeared, a note was stuck to the front ‘thought you would enjoy these, A’