Novel Manuscript Example Novels & Stories

The data needs to be accurate, and this manuscript is an original. For over thirty minutes, I keep going through the manuscript's contents and using the knowledge to refine what I have. However, my eyes are burning from staring at the tiny, faded texts. The manuscript is written in an archaic font style that takes twice the normal needed time for deciphering its contents, but I continue pushing through because what I have discovered so far is pure gold. Also, I need to be faster. The library will probably close soon and I— A hand suddenly clamps over my mouth from behind. My body reacts before my brain catches up, my hands dropping the manuscript and I quickly reach for the small knife strap

Joe For lack of any other good ideas and strangely thrilled about what seemed to be Sarah’s brother’s blessing, Jack had dug out the manuscript Wendy had given him two weeks ago. She had rung his doorbell at 11:30 pm, he had opened just wearing his boxers and a T-shirt, assuming it must be an emergency. Instead it had been Wendy, batting her eyes, looking him up and down in a way that made him feel highly uncomfortable and asking him if he would mind browsing through the book she had written – a modern-day romance. Maybe he could let her know what he thought about the male character. Did his feelings/actions seem realistic? He had refrained from asking her to come inside. He had pretended to

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​A document containing the raw, emotionally unedited chapters of my secret novel manuscript. ​Before I could minimize the window, the text filled the massive screen. And right at the top of the page was a deeply descriptive, intense scene I had written late Sunday night—a scene detailing a massive, broad-shared golden-haired boy standing over a girl in a dimly lit bathroom, his touch unbelievably soft as he wiped tears from her face. It was a completely transparent, beautifully written mirror of Mike. ​Mike’s eyes tracked the text instantly. His entire body went completely rigid in his chair.

​The Battle of the Margin ​Kael channeled the eighty years of his "Muted" life—the decades of silence that the "Author" had skipped over in a few sentences. He forced the Ink-Man to experience the Boredom, the Un-Narrated Pain, and the Slow Decay of a life lived in the shadows of the main plot. ​The Ink-Man recoiled. The manuscript pages that made up its skin began to curl and char as if exposed to a direct flame. ​"This... this is not in the outline!" the entity hissed, its obsidian eyes flickering.

Who would come to her rescue? If interested, search GoodNovel Workshop on F******K, OR send any story idea (summary, character profiles, random ideas) to: workshop@goodnovel.com There will be senior editors review the entries and help you develop even the random thoughts to well-written stories.

……- I closed my bedroom door and leaned against it, letting out a shaky breath. That was close. Too close. I looked at my phone. There was no actual call. Just a notification from my writing app. It was the perfect excuse. I crossed to my desk and opened my laptop, pulling up my novel document. The blank page from this morning stared back at me, but now… now I had something to write. My fingers flew over the keyboard. Chapter Title: Mafia Panda He stood there with a spoon in his mouth, looking like the most dangerous man alive , but he was still the cutest. A mafia panda, I thought. Deadly and adorable all at once.

Dear Reader Thank you for reading the first chapter of the book called, My Crazy Normal. My Crazy Normal was originally written as an Interactive Story Game. I am in the process of adapting it into a novel form. The original version contains a great deal of dialogue to fit the platform for which it was intended. Though you can enjoy the story in its interactive format too as currently published. (eg when Kayley speaks, the format will be as this: Kayley ~ “Mike, what an awesome surprise. Where have you been?”)

“Cooking up something?” “Jay,” I said quickly, “why are you here?” “Oh,” he said suddenly. “I almost forgot.” But instead of answering, he continued reading my manuscript. “Hey!” I quickly snatched the papers from his hands. My cheeks burned with embarrassment. That manuscript was different from my usual books. It was my first attempt at writing an erotic novel. And judging by the amused look on his face… he definitely read part of it. “Wild goose,” he muttered with a grin.

The quince trees were heavy with fruit — the last harvest before the seedlings would begin bearing in their own time. He came from the study with the manuscript — the full manuscript, which Ernest had seen in sections but not yet in its entirety. He set it on the kitchen table. The manuscript was thick — thicker than The Inside Account had been, thicker than Ernest had expected. He had seen sections as Don wrote them: the chapter about Thomas's grandfather, the chapter about the Japanese family head in the moss, the chapter about the woman whose plants knew her specific hands, the chapter about the eleven-generation garden, the final chapter about the first generation. But he had not seen th