Unpublished… unfinished

​So me and my friend began writing a book. That sort of frenzy just comes over you from time to time, making you feel that you can accomplish anything and that the world is suddenly just the best place to be in. The idea had been concieved when we had been cycling, and in an escalating state of euphoria, we began discussing the basic plot for our bestseller-to-be during one of our evening walks. 

It is suppossed to chronicle the adventures of Wilson siblings Edmund and Josephine ( better known as Jo) as they venture through unknown lands in a quest to uncover the deep, somewhat dark past of their family. That is the basic outline. No doubt it sounds the most mundane and cliched plot for a story but it is exciting, at least for us debuting novelists as we call ourselves. Go on, tell me that 15 and 13 year olds cannot write a best seller right away just because they want to. They are way too young and inexperienced and have no idea what their readers may want and even if they are sure of what they want to write, they won’t possibly know how to go about it. It is a lost cause and these novices will have dumped their work in an overflowing garbage bin by the end of a month. You may want to change your notions now because we celebrated the anniversary of our book “title yet to be decided” last December and I think it is coming out pretty nicely. Now, there is about 90% certainty that your suppositions about us were well founded but I am not to be disheartened by your critique. It is time I took praises and applause just as seriously, even though it just comes from our own side (we have not as yet got an audience for our manuscript). Some of you, whose heart may have melted, may want to motivate us but dont. The reason is for another post altogether ( which shall hopefully follow a few days later).

Yes, so our story. Well, we excavated an old notebook from under a pile of my study material in the cupboard, and turned it usable by tearing a few pages out of it. And then we began writing. You may think that something new should be started in a new notebook but my philosophy shall be described elsewhere, unless I want the post to be too longwinded and off the course. We had decided that we would just write  two pages each at a time; I would write from the perspective of Edmund who is of the same age as myself and my friend would be Jo. We decided against telling each other what each was writing so as to build up suspense, both for ourselves and the reader. But we soon had to give that up because of all the confusion it created. 

It is the most bizzare tale, I must tell you. First, we get suspended because we sneaked into the library after hours to get a thesis I wanted to read. Back home, just three days after our suspension , we are treated to a trip to the amusement park( we were still abstaining from any discussions back then) by our Dad’s colleague, Bruce. We meet a lady called Alisha Gilbert on the way, whom I get an instant liking to, and a man who called himself a knight templar. This knight, Sir Bloom gave me a deep, biased insight into the history of my parents, wanting to make me loathe them and probably I did. Meanwhile, Jo, who had escaped at the first opportunity from Bruce’s mini van in which we were seated, was siezed by a giant bird which led her to Dieorbis, the fairytale land where our parents had resided before they escaped into our world. There she meets the dwarf king Lord Juda and overhears some vague talk about herself and me, which I do not simply remember. Along the way, after Jo deserted me, I also get to know that our parents have been kidnapped. Then somehow, we both manage to get away from where we had been kept to finally be reunited at our own place where we chance upon the Necromancer, dressing his wounds. And that is about it. Now, the Necromancer is a combination of Robert Langdon, Aragorn, Dustfinger and a few other characters we admire: the perfect peson there ever was. 
Probably, our story seems like an elaborate fanfiction, a conglomeration of the fandoms we love.Probably we may not even publish it, given its vagueness, except on wattpad, but we must keep our hopes high. Whether it is even completed is a questionable, unrealistic expectation but more than its seemingly impossible publication, I will cherish the wonderful moments this book has given us : those evening walks which stretched into the night and had to be often conducted because we needed to discuss the plot, those days spent racking our brains for suitable names to baptise our characters, those moments in which we used to marvel at the perfection of the necromancer, with me stating repititively that Edmund was more close to him (because Josephine has a crush on him)…

We are amateurs no doubt. We may not know a thing about writing and I do not care what the world will think about it ( I am just being egoistic here, trying to put up a carefree attitude but if we upload it on whattpad, do do read it, please). Because, this notebook, not more than 70 pages of which are filled, has given me some extra time with a friend and has allowed me to be inspired by her excellent writing ( because she is much better at it than me). There were times, while discussing the book, when we would assume the role of our characters. We would refer to each other as Jo or Edmund and not by our real names. We would argue about things which should appear in the book: whether Jo drools while sleeping or whether Edmund can steal a few Private talks with the Necromancer after Jo goes to sleep. We would be immersed in the story to such an extent that we would refer to Mr.  and Mrs. Wilson as our parents! We would pester each other to write but mostly we would have forgotten a few details. I won’t be surprised if our story is tagged, in Anne Frank’s words, as a bunle of contradictions.

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