3/ My Year With the Nuns

My Year With the Nuns is the title of a middle-grade novel I've been writing for . . . oh, about 10 years? Fifteen? It's a mixture of fiction and fact, the facts being that I, a Protestant child, was sent to a Catholic convent boarding school for fifth and sixth grades after my mother died.

Of course now I wished I'd taken notes when I was 10 or 11, but even without notes I remember quite a bit. However, putting those bits together into a book with characters, conflict, and resolution requires more confidence than I possess. I think I might be okay with the characters, and I love writing dialogue, but . . . um . . . plot? That's another story. Literally.

Here's a small excerpt:

          I unpacked my clothes and put them in the dresser and wardrobe. The dresser drawers smelled funny, as though they hadn’t been used in a long time. I got undressed for bed quickly, putting my nightgown on and taking my underwear off underneath it, in case someone opened my curtain unexpectedly.

            In bed, the rough sheets and thin blankets didn’t comfort me. Everything in the room seemed to be “just enough” and no more--just enough blankets to keep me from being cold, just enough drawers to hold my clothing, just enough light from the lamp to see where I was.

            I didn’t want to see where I was. I wanted to be almost anywhere else. I had never felt so alone in my life. Goodnight, Daddy, I mouthed silently.