Excerpt: Dear Diary: Maybe I'll finish the chapter in a few hours?

October 27, 2008
I know it’s crazy to worry about it, but I’m really worried about the fact that Mom and Dad are acting all… well, parent-y. I mean, they always are like that. But it’s been getting worse lately. Mom stopped picking out what I was going to wear to school when I was in third grade. But lately she’s been laying out 2 or 3 outfits on that futon in my room each morning for me to pick from to wear to school. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not that her fashion sense sucks. There can be some cute outfits. But if I come downstairs for breakfast in something I pulled out from the closet, she gets all upset. Not like bawling her eyes out upset, more like, concerned upset. Like, “Oh honey, didn’t you like that sweater I set out for you? It’s such a nice sweater.” To which I usually say, “Yeah, no, I liked it. I felt like wearing this, though.” And she gives this “whatever you say” look to the ceiling and goes back to cleaning the oatmeal pot or whatever. It’s just weird.
And Dad. Oh, Dad. It’s just strange. Ever since I started going out with Todd, he’s been really interested in all my “crazy antics,” asking me how volleyball is going, and stuff like that. He even asked me if I started on my “Nanywrimy” thing yet. Nice, Dad. NaNoWriMo, Dad. NANOWRIMO. National Novel Writing Month. And no, Dad. Not yet. It starts in NOVEMBER. I can’t start my NaNo novel in OCTOBER. NOT WHEN IT’S IN NOVEMBER. He just laughs at this and goes, “good, you have time to finish that science project, then.” Ugh. I liked it better when he just grunted in my direction a nod when I asked him for a ride places. I mean, who are these people, and WHAT have they done to my parents? It’s bizarre. Are they souls from The Host or something? Have they taken over my parents bodies?
Anyway, other than that, life is normal. Mrs. Stanzerk still doesn’t like me after that little falling asleep in class incident the first week of school. Mr. Broder is still an awesomely funny teacher, and a really nice guy. Gym is still stupid. English is still heaven.
Nothing else is new, really, I guess. Except that NaNo is in a few days.

October 30th 2008
Well, I just realized it would be smart to outline my NaNo novel. But I really just want to wing it. I can see a few scenes so beautifully clearly, especially the ending. The ending is breathtaking when I play through it in my mind. Just closing off like that. I got the idea a few years ago, and wrote a short story of it. But I want to see what started the story. What lead to it? What created that ending?
Kirra is tough. She’s a faerie. The Demons enslaved her people two hundred years ago. She is one of three siblings, and the last living members of the Royal Line of the Faeries from before the Demon Takeover. Her sister Sarra, the oldest of the three, is nice. A sweetheart, overly kind. She never wants to kill. But she is supposed to lead a rebellion, a revolution that will lead to the fall of the Demons. Their brother, Piete, is only four. He doesn’t know what is going on when the masters are sleeping. He only knows what the other faerie children know: that a prophecy promises that one day, One of the Three Chosen will come, and will free the faerie race from the Demon’s tyranny.
Kirra technically has two masters: Darkfire, the Demon Lord that owns her, and Haukin, the general of the rebellion who knows her true name. for when faeries’ real names are known, the faerie must obey the one (or ones) with that knowledge. They have no choice.

Kirra and Haukin are a couple just waiting to happen.
I can’t wait to write this book! It’s going to be so great, for all that Mom doesn’t like the idea. She says, “It’s junior year. You need to worry about grades, about looking at colleges, about volleyball. Don’t bother with some cute little writing project now. Do it some other time.” I told her THIS is the month, THIS is when I will do it. I will suffer with every other junior year high school student AND with every other NaNoWriMoer. I don’t care what she says. I told her I bet she’d be proud of me when I actually finish. She says she thinks it’s a waste of time.
Todd doesn’t think so. Dad finds it funny. I don’t care what she thinks of it. I’m doing it anyway.

October 31, 2008—Happy Halloween!
Only a few hours until the madness begins! I can’t wait!
In the meantime, SUGAR! I’m trick or treating with some friends tonight, and then heading straight home. While ODing on sugar to give me energy, I wait for midnight, and then! Boom! NANOWRIMO TIME! This is going to be awesome!
Later
It’s almost time! 11: 55! I can’t wait to start the story! I’m grabbing my pen right now! EEEE!!!!!! 11: 58…. I should just type it… I hope I can turn on the computer in time!
……..
It’s being so SLOW!!!! NaNo starts in a minute, and… wait! It’s ready! I’m opening Word now! Farewell October, wish me luck dealing with NaNo! Welcome to my brain, November!!!!!!! =]

(I’m starting with the final scene of the book, because that one is the most important scene to me! It’s so clear in my head that I’ll die if I have to wait until November 30th to write it!

Kirra had been running away from Dockalfar since dawn had come. A thousand paces of running, a hundred paces of walking. A thousand paces of running, a hundred paces of walking. All day she had been doing that, alternating between walking and running to conserve her energy, trying to last long enough to get away to safety. Now dusk had fallen, and Kirra was surprised to see that she had reached the end of the woods. She had never even gone too deeply into the woods, only about a mile or so past Haukin’s house. Even if she wanted to go back, at least to Haukin’s, she was not sure she’d be able to. There had been so many twists and turns around thorny brush past Haukin’s house that all she knew was that whatever direction she had been going in, it was away from everything, all of the chaos, all of the blood, all the Demons, all of it. Every single horrible thing that had happened to her.
Where would she go no? All of The Land was under the same brutal control of the Demons. Nowhere was safe for faeries, especially if that faerie was a runaway. Especially if that faerie was a rebel whose veins carried the final drops of blood from the Royal Line that ruled the land before the Demon Takeover.
There was no turning back. Even if he did not want to, Lord Darkfire would have to kill Kirra if she showed her face at Dockalfar. And Kirra did not know what Haukin would do, if he could even do anything. She did not even know if he was alive. Piete was certainly dead, and Kirra could be sure Sarra would not last long under Demon questioning, if she was still alive at this point. The Three was no more. The Three was gone. They had failed.
Kirra sank to her knees at the edge of the woods, trembling with exhaustion and emotion. Maybe she should just let herself die here, she thought. Maybe she should just curl up and sleep, hoping that while she was oblivious to everything, fate would decide what should happen to her for her. Who was she to decide what to do, anyway? She was Sarra’s protector, not the chosen One. Sarra was supposed to be the One, the leader, not her. She was going to protect Sarra, Piete would end up some scholar of faerie history or something like that. That was supposed to be how it work. But now fate had ruined everything. Well, she was not going to do fate’s job for itself. She would not—no, could not—decide what to do about her situation. She could do nothing.
Groaning in pain, Kirra stiffly and slowly leaned her head back against a tree trunk. She curled up a little bit, and fell into a poor sleeping spell, feeling every ache in her body, and trying not to feel her anguish and fear.
“Kirra.”
The voice startled her out of her sleep. Startled, she leapt up to her feet, adrenaline rushing through her veins, willing her to crouch in a fighting position. Her head turned around over her shoulders, searching for the source of the voice.
It was daytime now. At some point while she was sleeping, the sun had come up again, but clouds hung heavily in the air, allowing only small patches of sunlight to reach the earth. She could not see the source of the voice at first, and panic started welling up in her throat.
“Kirra.” She turned around. There, Haukin was standing. His long black hair was matted together in clumps and falling into his eyes. They were red and dry, and his face was sweaty and covered in scrapes and smudges. It looked like he had not slept at all. Kirra resisted the urge to rush over to him and throw herself into his arms to cry.
“Haukin—the others? Where’s Sarra? Lockwood, did they really kill him? Shoshana, the others are they all—” Haukin raised his hand, and Kirra fell silent.
“Sarra’s gone. There’s no hope for her. Lockwood isn’t looking too good now, and the others are either dead or injured. Piete is…” His voice trembled a little at mentioning Piete, though through his whole report, he had spoken without his voice wavering.
“I know, Haukin. I saw what they did to—what they did to his…Gods! Why him? He was only a little boy?” Kirra began to sob in fury and shock and grief. How could they have done that? She wiped her eyes, hoping that she could control her emotions enough to find out what exactly had happen after she ran away from the scene.