I did it. On Sunday I wrote 10k words. Yesterday I finished my book: 225 pages, 120k words. It’s rough, as in rough draft, as in not anywhere near ready to be sent out to editors. So, I’ve been running through it in my head, and I will attempt to write a jacket cover:
David Price doesn’t sleep too well. He never has: nightmares and night terrors fill his mind, and he’s haunted during the day. He accepted an internship at Cliffsedge School of the Mind to escape the boredom of summer and possibly figure out what’s going wrong with him.
At this school, the classes are tough, the teachers tougher, and complex dangers lurk in corners best left undisturbed.
David’s nightmares make studying nearly impossible, and when a well-meaning professor separates Cold Man from David for a night, instead of restful slumber he stumbles into a hole into reality while dreaming. Perhaps his shade is being spiteful for his efforts to remove it. Perhaps he inadvertently fell himself. He’s quickly learning being haunted at a schoo lof magic is anything but simple. Whatever the case, his nightmares just got much more dangerous, and seem to be spilling into the real world in the form of 200 year old children that had spent their lives in a world much like Peter Pan.
Coupled with getting to know a hundred other thirteen year olds; dealing with a magical school filled with ghosts, mythical creatures, and political intrigue; and learning material way above his grade level, David must confront some of his darkest fears by learning the name of his shade—and finding a way to undo what he set in motion—while passing internship to get into 8th grade.
David’s life is anything but simple.
Anyway, that’s the gist of it. Only other major point (that has nothing to do with the plot itself) is that it’s not Earth as we know it: massive, mile-high magical trees grow in different places in the world: New York and Colorado, for two. They are major sources for magic. There’s a lot more going on, but that’s the main plotline. I’m excited, but not overly much. This marks the fourth finished novel I’ve written. Three are collecting dust after I’ve worked/reworked them to singing perfection (obviously not, since nobody wants them). Hopefully this doesn’t ring too “Harry Potter Ripoff” (I don’t care for the HP books whatsoever, but I love the idea of teaching the reader about magic).
I might have to go to a writing workshop or something. Four books seems to be overdone for some kind of publication. But maybe not: this might be how a lot of people do it.