Writing Novels Is Easy

Advent Calendar

Take my word for it, writing novels is easy. Look how many there are out there on the shelves. All you have to do is avoid the use of vulgarisms that might piss off the reader.

Chapter One

John and Mary had never actually met. They were just like two hummingbirds who had also never actually met. They lived in a typical suburban neighborhood with picket fences that resembled Nancy Kerrigan's teeth and where most of the houses were built of red brick, the color of a brick red Crayola crayon.

Mary had caught John's eye like one of those pointy hook latches that used to dangle from screen doors and would fly up whenever you banged the door open again. She had also caught his eye because her eyes were like two brown circles with big black dots in the center and her hair glistened in the rain like nose hair after a sneeze. All he would need was one chance meeting but he was as perplexed as a hacker who means to access T: flw. quid55328.com\ aaakk/ch@ung but gets T: \flw.quidaaakk/ ch@ung by mistake.

Don't get me wrong, it wasn't all one way traffic. She had noticed him too. Well he was as tall as a six-foot-three-inch tree. She'd often wanted to break the ice but her vocabulary was as bad as, like, er, whatever.

One day back in May, or it might have been July or August even, John had been in the park watching as a little boat gently drifted across the pond exactly the way a bowling ball wouldn't.

To be continued...

What do you think of it so far?