WRITING/PODCASTING A NOVEL IN 30 DAYS NOV 14

National Novel Writing and Podcast Posting Month 2021 Welcome friend to Create Art Podcast where I help you tame your inner critic and create more than we consume. I am Timothy Kimo Brien your thankful head instigator with over 20 years in arts and education. How I accomplish this is by providing you with commentary, interviews, discussions, and projects that will inspire you to create art. This month I will be podcasting daily and writing a novel in 30 days. I am participating in NaPodPoMo and NaNoWriMo again this year as I did last year and you can hear those episodes here. You will be able to listen and read along to what I wrote for the day. I like to practice what I preach when it comes to art so I am challenging myself to write and having you come along for the ride. It is my hope this inspires you to accomplish your goals with your art and if you would like to share what you are doing email me at [email protected] History of NaNoWriMo and NaPodPoMo NaNoWriMo: National Novel Writing Month began in 1999 as a daunting but straightforward challenge: to write 50,000 words of a novel in thirty days. Now, each year on November 1, hundreds of thousands of people around the world begin to write, determined to end the month with 50,000 words of a brand new novel. They enter the month as elementary school teachers, mechanics, or stay-at-home parents. They leave novelists. NaPodPoMo: NaPodPoMo* is a month-long event along the same vein as National Novel Writing Month aka NaNoWriMo. The difference? Well, instead of writing a 50,000-word novel, you podcast every day for 30 days from November 1st-30th. Use any platform you desire. From full production studio to iPhone app and just about anything in between. The goal is to use the challenge of podcasting daily as a form of podcasting boot camp. The Writing So Far 14 Nov 2021    daily count 1681 cumulative count 21266  Carl went to the office to grab the diary. He knew that it would be futile to argue with Cheryl about who would write in the diary and since he never kept a diary in the past, he thought about what they would write since no one would be allowed to read it according to the rules posted on the first page. He brought the diary to the living room where Cheryl was lounging on the couch. She had finished her water and had replaced it with two sodas.   “Before we get started with the diary, did you read the message from Vince. It may not make much sense because I need to let you know what Nate and Vince found out,” said Carl.   “I haven’t read it yet, I figured we could read it together,” replied Cheryl. “I’m thinking of heading over to Nate and Carmine’s tomorrow with Myra. She really seemed to blossom over there.”  “I’ll give her a text to let her know, do you know what time you plan to head over there,” Carl asked?  “Before lunch for sure, probably 10 AM. Is that too early,” asked Cheryl?  “Figure you two will need to leave here at 9 AM, that should be early enough. I’ll let her know and can I give her your number,” asked Carl?  “That should be fine. Now what were you boys talking about in Nate’s clubhouse,” asked Cheryl.   “Well, we believe that Harold is not her real father. Vince found out that he was married for 10 years, and Myra came on the scene 3 years ago. The wife died shortly afterward of natural causes according to the coroner’s report. Her father died of the same causes, but the police suspect either suicide or foul play. The authorities don’t know about Myra yet, the cops found the body in a hotel with no personal effects and Vince found out that they had been staying at another hotel in the next state over for three months. Vince knows where their house is and is checking on that and a few other things. So, three years ago they adopted Myra and got her into school. The story was that they were helping the husband’s sister, the problem with that story is that both the husband and the wife were only children. They got Myra into school so that is to be checked out. The last bit of information may be in the message Vince sent us. Myra had another episode while she was sleeping on the way back from Nate’s. I had on a podcast and when one of the actor’s names was mentioned it triggered her to ask for daddy John, daddy John may be John Cooke either the younger who is a voice actor or the elder who is a writer from the eighteen hundreds. I asked Vince to look up on that as well as a jazz musician Grover Brecht whose name triggered Myra as well,” Carl said.   Cheryl’s jaw dropped. “I think I am going to need something stronger than a coke to continue this conversation. Are you telling me that that little nine-year-old girl may be oh say a hundred years old or older,” asked an astonished Cheryl?  “This is what we know right now, lets read that message from Vince and see what he says,” replied Carl. He pulled out his phone and opened the attachment from Vince. Cheryl got in closer to read over his shoulder. The message contained information about the John Esten Cooke. There was two dossiers included in the message, there was one about the voice actor which had no connection with Myra or with her father. He seemed to be cleared of any interest. He was a freelance voice actor of some renown within the business but not a name most people would know. The other dossier was more in depth about this John Esten Cooke. He was a novelist and poet during the Civil War in Virginia. In 1877 there was a note of a young girl that came to live with John Cooke and his family and about a yar later his wife had died. Mr Cooke lived until 1886 and there was no mention of what happened to the girl after that. The girl’s name was Myra and she was described as a young girl of indeterminate age. In the same dossier was an entry regarding Grover Brecht. There were few notes, but it detailed how Grover later in life had taken in a young girl of indeterminate age named Myra before he passed away. The girls name was Myra, and it was unknown if he had written music dedicated to her.   Carl and Cheryl just stared at the screen for what seemed an eternity. Cheryl saw a tear in Carl’s eye running down his cheek. She took the phone out of his hand and placed it on the coffee table. She then embraced Carl as the tears flowed freely from his eyes. He didn’t sob or make any sound but clutched onto Cheryl for all he was worth. Another eternity passed and Carl broke the embrace and wiped the tears from his eyes.   “I’m sorry, we have sealed our death warrants with this cursed diary,” said Carl tearing up again. “This isn’t fair to you, I’m the one who is dying anyhow, you are so young and have so much to live for.”  “Shut it, this isn’t your fault. I brought you into this. We will get through this I don’t care what the history is. Those two other guys, they already had families, you didn’t have one. We can beat this and break the curse and if Myra is over a hundred years old, we can break it for her as well so she can grow up and live her life,” said Cheryl.   “How do we break the curse, that’s the sixty-four-thousand-dollar question. I didn’t study curse breaking in college,” said Carl.   “Doesn’t Vince or Nate know, how about Angela, did she bring something to help us out. I don’t know either, but this is the hand we have been dealt right now and we got a nine-year-old girl without a family except us. We can’t let her down, we gotta try,” said Cheryl.   Carl took a deep breath and sighed. “I’ve never had a diary, I have no idea what to write in one, especially one that isn’t mine.”  “Lucky for you I have kept one when I was younger. I think we just stick to the facts of what we know. Since we are both going to write something I think we should read what the other person writes and if anything needs to be added then that person gets to add, no one gets to subtract. Does that sound fair to you,” asked Cheryl?  “Who writes first, or do we get to switch off each time. I think switching off each time is fair,” replied Carl.   “That sounds fair. How about we rock, paper, scissor to see who writes first,” asked Cheryl?  Both adults held their fist and they each counted to three while raising and lowering their fists. Carl threw rock and Cheryl threw scissor. He breathed deeply again and took out a pen. He opened the diary to where the page marker was left from the last time Harold had written in it. Carl tried to write the date, but no ink came out of his pen. He tried to scribble on the page but still no ink went on the paper. He shook the pen and still nothing. He looked at Cheryl puzzled. She took the pen out of his hands and tried to scribble on the corner of the page, nothing.    “Do we need to wake up Myra, is that something we missed,” asked Cheryl?  “There was nothing about that in the rules, not that I remember anyways,” replied Carl. He flipped the pages back to the first page and read through the rules again. There was nothing about mentioning Myra or having a person present when writing in the diary. He handed it to Cheryl, and she read through it and found nothing.   “Do you have another pen or maybe a pencil,” asked Cheryl? Carl went into his bedroom and grabbed another pen; he wrote on his hand to ensure that the pen would write, and