If I Want To Write A Book Novels & Stories

What if no one will read my book? But what if it will be the bestselling? What if they think I am illed? What if they think I am rare? “Ugh! I don't know Tim.” “Too obvious, Kath. Tim's not here.” I look up to Grandpa who's now frowning. “ I'm just talking with myself.” “It seems important.” He stated as he turned the sign in the door from 'open' to 'closed'. “I want to write a book..but I don't think people will read it.” I spoke the thought that kept on running in my head.

* * * * Chapter 1 SADIE Taking a deep breath, I stared at the imposing door in front of me, my hand flexing at my side. Was this crazy? Was I being crazy? This job isn’t what I really wanted. I didn’t want to be a nanny for some rich family on the Upper Eastside. I wanted to be a novelist. I wanted to write books that drew people in and changed their perspectives of the world. Unfortunately for me, I couldn’t make a living writing books if I couldn’t find a publisher to actually publish my books. Rent needed to be paid, groceries needed to be bought, and I couldn’t continue living on Ramen noodles and grilled cheese sandwiches.

Sitting all alone with thoughts in my mind. Stella's images flashes over all my thoughts. That is what I could see. I guess I needed to be distracted. I walked out of my room and went straight to my study room. Pacing inside, I sighed heavily and opened the book I left on the table. I started a page to page scan of the book. I wonder how a single person will write a book as big as this like he doesn't have work to do. Author's should take someone like me into consideration and release smaller books. I think I will have to go pick up a new book from the library.

"What do you want to come next?" Her mother was quiet for a moment. "I want to be part of your life. I want to be a grandmother to your children. I want to make up for lost time." Vienna took her mother's hand. "You can. You are. You will." "I know. But I also want to do something else." "What?" "I want to write a book. About your father. About the truth. About everything that happened." Vienna stopped walking. "A book?" "Your father deserves to have his story told. The world deserves to know what happened to him. And I want to be the one to tell it."

ALEXA I stared at the ceiling trying to create a mind-blowing sentence. Writing wasn't easy, it was beyond scribbling down a few words or just expressing your emotions. It was definitely beyond that, it involves the careful articulation of words to make it into the heart of your readers. Unfortunately, I had no readers and wasn't even willing to have one. I was scared. Several times, I asked myself if my book was as good as those famous writers. I couldn't risk the chance of rejection so I wrote for only myself.

I am 24 years-old. I have been writing books since I was 13 years-old. I have wrote 6 books total, but lost 5 to a house fire, and did not have backups. I lost my want to write after losing my first 5 books. It has been 8 years since then. This is my first book I have published. I am a mother of 1 daughter, trying for a second child. I want to make a living as a author, but also become a daycare teacher. I have a cp in earily childcare. My passion is my child. I love and live for my family. They matter more then anything.

"You know, I am one already. I just haven't published the book yet. I believe, it's not well-edited and still has lots of things to add to it." "I can find you an editor if you want. They can help you proofread it and adjust it carefully before it can be published. Or, don't tell me you're scared of publishing your book." He widened his eyes as he pointed his index finger at me. "I wouldn't lie, I am. I don't know if people are going to like the book. Even though I enjoyed writing, this will be the first time I will write a whole book. I'm scared, what if, it's too long and they lose interest at the end? Or, what if they don't Ike how I write the book? What if, it's too boring for them?." Tr

“About the book.” Noah crossed the room and sat beside me, his hand covering mine. “The book again,” he murmured, not unkindly. “You’ve been working so hard on it. What’s going on in that head of yours?” I hesitated, searching for the right words. “I think… I want to share it. Not just with friends or family, but really share it. Publish it. Put it out into the world so other people who’ve been through hell can see that there’s a way forward, that they’re not alone.”

Ira was different, frank and ambitious. “Your plans shouldn’t have to bend for someone else other than you, Mariella. And they most certainly have nothing to do with me,” I told her. “Tell me about your ambition, what you want to make of yourself.” She walked to the single sofa and sat down, looking so fucking dishevelled that my gut churned. Something in her eyes reminded me of the one person I wanted to forget, which made me angrier. “I like to write. I don’t enjoy telling people I do, but I want to get a book published if I could,” she answered. And for the first time, I saw a spark in her eyes, a hope that she could do it.

Soft? The power is in your hands, I'll try to write future books, of course with loads of creativity but also keeping in mind what my readers want. I'm still trying to find my niche in this app and any nudge in the right direction is welcome 💗