I don't want to go to sleep. I think to myself, although its 1:19 and my mom would be upset if she knew I was still up, and writing. I'm not writing my English essay, as I probably should be. I'm not writing my reading reflection that's due on Wednesday and I'm not writing Algebra 2 notes. All of those would probably be more ok with her than what I am staying up until 1:19 in the morning of May 5th, 2013 to write. It's what I like to call: "My Masterpiece." And it changes practically every year. This year I think I may actually have it.
For years I've been writing, rewriting, and rerewriting my masterpiece over and over in my head. It started as a great, Jane Austen-like romance. Since then it's taken turn after turn from romantic, to murder-mystery, to science fiction, to fantasy.
The idea is simple. But the execution? Probably impossible. That's something I've discovered about myself though. I like the impossible. "My Masterpiece" is the title I've given every idea for a Great American Novel that's popped into my head since I was about nine years old.
But this year I think I have it. I've been waiting a long time, but I think I finally have it. A plot, a character, and a story.
Granted, it's still young. But I think with a little time, it could turn into something that would earn me a lot of hate mail.
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