I did it! I conquered my emotions and finished the memoir I wish I never had to write. I won, but unlike the time I finish Fumes Variola back in 2013, when I first won NaNoWriMo, it feels bittersweet.
Here’s the teaser from the rough draft:
I took the plate. One of bread slices had meat topping and the other one had two slices of yellow cheese. On the same plate was a box of 250 ml concentrated orange juice. I hate concentrated orange juice and sorry for repeating this but I hate feeling like a criminal.
The cell was completely close with no means of looking out. The small window was very high I had to nearly stand on my tiptoe to receive the food.
I didn’t touch the food. I placed it on top of the bed and lie down again facing away from the wall. I was exhausted and nauseated. The full awareness of the camera at the top of the door isn’t making my tremulous feeling better. For goodness sake, I don’t need stress, especially not with my delicate pregnancy. But I won’t let them see my sleeping face even if my shoulder were hurting for sleeping on the same side with no pillow. I won’t give whoever it was in the back of the camera the pleasure of seeing me vulnerable and close to tears. I never cried in front of strangers and I won’t do it now that I’m being accused of false charges.
With my hand on my stomach, I slept a dreamless sleep and disturbed by the sound of the metal door being unlocked. I immediately sat up, my heart banging against my chest. I thought that it was time for me to go but I was wrong.
I was brought by the police inside another room filled with more police roaming around. They were mixed between those wearing uniforms and civilian clothes. Computers were lined up on the table in a inverted L-shaped corridor. The police who brought me there asked me to sit on the chair at the corner of the room inside the short part of the inverted L. I took a seat and rubbed my palms together to dry the sweat. Calm down, I told myself and observe—grudgingly— my feet dangling on the chair, exposing the dirt my socks had collected on the floor where all the police walk around in their boots. It’s a humiliating feeling.
Joining NaNoWriMo has been a tradition for me every month since I discovered it in 2013. Except for the first year, I have yet to win again. Each year I enthusiastically push forward but I’m sorry if I’m a bit low key today. I’m joining NaNoWriMo again this year, and as usual I’m hoping to win or even finish the first draft, however I’m not feeling joyful. The book I’ll be writing is a memoir and it’s not a fun book, but I feel that I’ll go crazy if I don’t write it. Writing this memoir will be a kind of therapy too, who knows, things might be so much better afterward.
This is where I talk about the challenges I’m facing as a writer. I will be sharing book excerpts, giveaways, personal events and well, anything about my writing.