For the past year and a half I have been attempting to write a novel. It has always been a dream of mine to be a writer. I own 2 books each containing a poem that I had written. I will post them in another entry later today maybe. But as for the book I'm attempting to write, I am working on chapter 8 now. Sometimes, I can sit down and just write and write this book, but then there's times I can't even think of 1 single word to write. I guess that is what they call writer's block. I'd like to be more like my dear cousin Carmen. I swear she can just sit down and whip up a poem out of no where. She writes the most beautiful poems. Also I might add she is a published poet. I don't know how she finds the time to just sit down and write like she does, with raising a son, keeping her house in order, studying for school, and she does alot of cooking for friends who make requests to her. That girl is full of life and energy. And I'm thankful I have her in my life. She's done a great job so far being a single parent and raising her son. He is very well behaved and ever so smart. The love he shows for his Mom is just precious. I adore him, he's such a great kid.
Well, I thought I'd share a couple paragraphs of the book I'm writing, and maybe you could tell me if it's interesting or just plain boring, lol. Be honest is all I ask. I have'nt chosen a title for it yet. I am totally blocked on that one, lol. But anyways here goes:
It was just after two in the morning when the train finally stopped, pulling into the dimly lit station. I was feeling so exhausted, from the five hour train ride to return home to be with my mother. Why I just did'nt take a later train so I'd arrive at a decent hour I did not know. I suppose the telegram I received, saying my brother Tommy had been killed in a hunting accident and my mother had taken to her bed, made me feel like I had to get there right away. As I was standing on the ramp, with my luggage beside me, my mind wandered to the words written on that shocking telegram. Tommy, killed, hunting accident? Mother in bed and not getting up at all. This was all too much.
Suddenly there was a light tapping on my shoulder and I spun around so quickly I almost tripped over my luggage. There standing with a look of concern, sadness was Mr. Jenkins, our long time gardener, groundskeeper, chauffer. Hello, Miss Adam's he said, in a very deep but warming voice. I smiled up at this man whom I had known since I was a small child and said, "Mr. Jenkin's, hello it is so nice to see you again. "Yes, Miss it is, I just wish it was under a happier circumstance. My smile faded and I knodded in agreement. Mr. Jenkin's picked up my luggage and turned towards the car.
The ride home was a quiet one. I could'nt bring myself to ask if Mother had shown any sign of improvement. I suppose I did'nt want to be any more saddened or disappointed as I already felt. After what seemed like a very long drive, but was actually about twenty minutes, the tall cast iron gate appeared where our driveway to the house began. I remember running to it as a child when Father was arriving home from a long day at his Attorney Law Firm.
Ok, there ya go. Now let me know what you think so far.