ahahaha. yes. I’m doing NaNoWriMo this year. Kill me NOW. I am sure I will fail, but I dearly want to try. My mother is doing it as well. aheheh… ^^;;;;
NaNoWriMo profile:
Title: Getting to Know Dead Relatives
Genre(s): Historical Fiction/ Romance/ GLB&T
Main Characters: Andre (Math Geek, Gay, has a dead mother), Jon (lawyer, Andre’s father), Marie (in the flashbacks, Andre’s grandmother, French Resistance fighter), Rene (also in the flashbacks, Andre grandfather, French Resistance fighter), Gerard (more flashbacks, Marie’s brother, gay, killed by Nazis because of that). …and possibly others.
Story: Andre’s mother dies in a car accident, leaving him with a box of letters from his grandmother. As he read them he discovers paralells between his life and that of his grandmothers, and by the end of the box he has pretty much worked through his grief for his mother, got a cute boyfriend, and speaks to his dad again. yay!
Excerpt 1: “The clouds that had been threatening all day opened up just then, and the windshield was covered in dancing droplets of water, which nicely matched the waterworks occurring inside the car. Jon flicked the wipers on, and they began their rhythmic journey to nowhere, swishing back and forth, back and forth, back and forth.
After driving in silence for a time, Jon spoke again. “Y’know, when you were a baby, and you threw tantrums in the car, all I had to do was to turn on the windshield wipers. You would quiet right down, and just watch them. They fascinated you to no end.” He chuckled, but it was more with anxiousness than amusement.
“Stupid reminiscences won’t make me like you.” Andre said sourly, still talking to the window. But he wasn’t crying anymore. Maybe it was the windshield wipers.
Jonathon sighed. “It would be nice if you liked me, but that’s not what I was asking. I was planning on groveling before your feet, then apologizing some more. Then maybe inviting you to my house for thanksgiving?”
“I can’t believe you’re asking me this. For years not a word, not a letter, not a call, then mom dies and suddenly you want us to be all lovey-dovey like nothing ever happened? Like you never left?” He sounded pained.
“Andre, that’s not what I’m saying. I just think that it is high time for us to stop acting like strangers-” He began.
“And whose fault is that? Tell me, do I still disgust you? Or have you worked past the ‘I hate all faggots’ stage?” He finally looked at his father, to see his reaction to the question.
Jon winced. “Yes, I do believe I have worked past the ‘I hate all f-faggots stage’ as you so charmingly put it. And to set the record strai- I mean to get things strai- um… To clear the matter up, I never hated you. Ever. I could never hate you. Please remember that.”
Andre had to laugh. It was the first time he had laughed in over a week, and it felt good. His father trying to find a way to say what he meant without using the word ‘straight’ was a memory that he suspected he would treasure for a long time. Jon looked surprised at the unexpected giggle from his son, and glanced over in confusion.
“He he, it’s just- I’m not allergic to the word faggot. Or straight. You don’t have to dance around the issue. You could though. It’s funny.”
Jon found himself smiling at Andre’s mirth “Alright then, what should I say, oh wise one?”
“Just don’t say anything at all and maybe I can forgive you…eventually…” His smile faded as they pulled into the parking lot of the reception hall. “
It’s Andre!
there ya go chicas!
-teh M
