By: fuyu
NaNoWriMo 2007
She was called Autumn.
Autumn. Not Tom. And, as previously established throughout the previous chapters, she was a girl.
Still, that fact did not prevent the event that she was addressed as “Tom” in the note she was currently holding. Curled up by the kitchen – as curled up as anyone could be on a bar stool, anyway – her eyes stared at the very familiar scrawl staring back up at her.
By: tinamats
NaNoWriMo 2006
I didn’t answer Meah for a while because some of Kuya’s friends entered and they all gave me high five and pat on the back greetings as they went in noisily. Then I turned to Meah, “No, we didn’t have a fight. Do you think that guy is capable of being angry? Smiley-faced boy?” I reminded him of one of his nicknames back in college.
By: xrecent
NaNoWriMo 2007
The next morning, the prince had gone missing and as Mervin Gaust had a visit at the local Zellum shop to get his Zellum repaired, he hears the door open and after a while he saw a Zellum beside his shoes. The Zellum shop owner tells him to take that Zellum instead since his will take more time. Yet the one he got is worthless since its eyes are turning around and is not functioning in any way.
By: illustria
NaNoWriMo 2007
If you’re after seafood and cheap, yummy cookies, then Iloilo is the place to be. But if you want to rest in the arms of your family, cry your eyes out, and get some sympathy, then look elsewhere. I should know; it’s where I ended up after I had my heart broken just a few weeks ago.
By: ghibli
NaNoWriMo 2007
He calculated. In one smooth motion, he bent to take the sword and swung it in front of him. Then he was off, running between the trees as fast as he could. Thinking he could distract the dreadful beast from attacking Isoebel, he shouted, “Hey! OVER HERE!” It was very unlike him but something about the sword gave him power. It was exhilarating and scary at the same time, an overwhelming mix of emotion.
Pep Talk from Inez Ponce de Leon (illustria)
The words, however, come pouring out when a story means something to me. This year, my novel is my way of healing my own wounds, of looking at my own past and seeing how it made me what I am today. I also got a few pointers from my professors this semester, who were privy to my affairs. One professor told me to celebrate my grandmother’s life by writing, because I truly was bent on giving NaNo up this year. Another professor told me to tell the story of my family before no one would be alive and around to tell it.
