November Novel Writing Novels & Stories

I said, with my voice booming around the walls of the classroom. "You are all to write a novel, the word count should not be less than thirty. Take note. You have a month and few days to finish it all up, no lazinees and no slacking. Just see it as another type of nanowrimo. So by next month ending, I would be expecting ebooks novels in PDF format, all of it should be sent to my email" I turned around swiftly, to scribble my email on the whiteboard. "I will be awarding the overall best of it all. Good day class." I said, dismissing them with a wave of my hand. They all moved out of the clsss with different expressions on their faces.

However, I saw something that made my heart skip a beat as I turned to head for the bed. There was a little piece of paper with a note written on it on my bedside table. Even though I did not recognize the handwriting, the message chilled me: "At midnight, meet me in the ancient oak forest. Come alone." I felt a surge of fear mixed with curiosity. What did they want from me, and who could have written this note? I was standing there pondering my options when I heard a slight scratching noise coming from the window. I turned to see a single word scrawled on a tiny piece of paper that was adhered to the glass:

She's such a kind and hardworking editor who always understands me. Throughout writing this novel, I learned a lot about writing techniques and honing my writing style. I've learnt to ask myself if this chapter is good or bad, or if this story provides different topics and knowledge to readers because I'm not just writing this for fun; rather, I want readers to feel the thrill and get knowledge from my novel at the same time. I even found myself not sticking to the outline I created for this book, which other writers I met told me that was completely normal.

She looked at the notebook. At the one line. At everything it meant and everything that came after it and the kitchen around her and the man across from her and the bread in the oven and November. She picked up the pen. She wrote below the first line: Now we begin.

--- The book sells well enough. Enough that the publisher asks for a second one. I tell them I need time. That I'm still living the story, not just telling it. Celeste laughs when I tell her. "A sequel?" "Maybe. In a few years." "What would you write about?" "The quiet parts. The ones that don't make headlines." "Those are the only parts worth writing about." --- November brings rain. Not the soft rain of spring — the pounding, relentless rain of Atlantic storms. The windows rattle. Orwell hides under the bed. Celeste and I curl up on the couch, reading, talking, doing nothing at all.

She opened her laptop. She did not write about scandals or billionaires. She did not write about the weight of a diamond ring. She wrote about the sound of a turning in a lock. She wrote about the taste of coffee in the morning. She wrote about the peace of knowing that every word on the page was finally hers. She hit save. The cursor was blinking like a heartbeat in the silence of the warehouse. The story of Nora Vale was a bestseller.. The story of Elena Vane was a work in progress.

The End ###### Author’s Note Hello, dear reader! Fated Mates Torn By Hate is the first book among my ten books that I wrote that garnered the most views (and has the most words). I’ve been writing since September 2021 here in GoodNovel so you know how this means so much to me. And I thank you so much for that. *makes sobbing noises*

Joe knew that this experience would stay with him forever, a constant reminder of the dangers and darkness that lurk in this world. Finally nearing the end of her novel, Ondina smiled brightly at the computer screen. About time! It had taken her nearly two years to write this book and for a long while she worried that she might not ever finish it. She was mostly excited and nervous because she promised Raphael that she would let him read it when she finished. What if he hates it? She couldn't help but think for the worse. She knew she wasn't a great writer, and she had a long way to go before she could even feel like she was close to it, but the need for him to like it infiltrated her mind.

I really appreciate your guidance, together with the GoodNovel. Now that I closed Gavin and Amara's story, I will be looking forward to opening a new book as we embrace new characters again. Thank you and Happy New Year, everyone! Your Author, itsclarixass

I had stayed up all night to write the last chapter and we were in the early hours of the next day already. My eyes were heavy and I was tired but still felt giddy about it. I, the naive rebel from small-town Oakley, had written a novel. "What is the title?" "I do not know yet." It was hard arriving at a decision. I knew not whether to give it a romantic one or a realistic one. "But I would like to make it a real book, like those that you read. I know it doesn't focus on ideas or theories or research but it is really a significant book. I would like you to help me."