All Sunshine, All Shadow v.4 Preptober 2024 NaNoWriMo 2024

Task 1

The first part of this novel follows the lives of five girls in their last year of high school, circa 2013. Louisa is a wannabe actor; she has the lead role in this year's spring play, Little Women. She's loud, obnoxious, and (overly) righteous, and the only one with a boyfriend. Abigail is a wannabe writer, and she really wanted the lead role this spring, but she was relegated to the play the "mom" character. Her insecurities are directed straight at Louisa. Anna might have a boyfriend soon, and he's turning her world upside down—and the other girls aren't sure about him. May is boy-crazy, but the only boy she has eyes for turns out to be gay. And Lizzie's crush on May is not the only secret she's keeping. When their beloved theatre teacher retires suddenly, the new play director, Ms. Wilson, young and fresh out of college, throws a wrench in the young thespians' grooves—bringing all the puberty-fueled tension between them to the surface. But the magic of theatre may yet save them.

In the second part of the novel, we fast forward 10 years. Everyone is struggling with the reality of adult life. Will friendship and magic ever have that same magic again?

WC: 206/200

Task 2

Part A:

Reducio

Part A: World Building
Where is your story set? This task is looking for you to describe the setting of your story. Even if your setting is the world we live in today, it can really help to have a solid understanding of where your story is set and how that influences the choices your character may have to make. You can zoom in onto a city/town/village where your story takes place, or if you're feeling ambitious, explore creating your own world and describe how life works there. This task has a word count minimum of 200, and for completing it, you can earn 1 house point.

It's the spring of 2013 in the small midwestern city of Quartz. Barrack Obama has been elected for another term. "Harlem Shake" is at the top of the billboards. House of Cards is trending on Netflix. The college seniors at Quartz High School are trying to figure out college scholarships and majors and summer jobs and how to say goodbye to a large chapter in their lives.

Quartz has undergone a lot of changes in the lives of those seniors, too. It didn't do well in 2008, but it was already trending downward long before that. The quartz that made the city so famous had dried up in the eighties, and the processing plants closed in the nineties. There might be grandparents with great pensions here or there, but the blue-collar parents of Quartz high schoolers have been scrambling to find better work. Those that did often moved away; most others grew poorer and poorer with the city. In the actual district of Quartz High School, parents might be attached to the farming industry and still have job security. But every parent remembers the heyday of Quartz, when it was one of the most prosperous small cities in America, and people were predicting it could rival Chicago in the next two decades.

This insecurity has bled into the children. They all know they're a far cry from Ivy League acceptance, and very few are looking at careers that will take them out of state. Some don't even believe they'll get into a state school. Going into nursing or other medical professions is the most commonly sought path to future financial security. But there are some creative students who still their futures as a wide-open book that could take them anywhere.

WC: 290/200

Part B:

Reducio

Part B: Character Creation
Who is the character(s) of significance in your story? This task is looking for you to describe the character(s) in your story. Well-developed characters can help to engage readers and make them invested in the story you are telling. Good things to focus on are appearance and why (for example, if they have constantly messy hair, why is it always messy?), interests, character strengths and flaws, and motivations for why they make the choices they make in your story. This task has a word count minimum of 200, and for completing it, you can earn 1 house point.

This is a coming-of-age story following five girls, who are all cast in a production of Little Women before going their separate ways into adulthood.

Louisa plays Jo—she has dreams of becoming an actor. She's president of the Thespian Society, president of the National Honors Society, captain of the chess club, and a whole litany of other accolades that she hopes will get her a good scholarship to a university with the acting school of her dreams. She's also burnt out and can't realize it. She's had a boyfriend all throughout high school (he's on crew for the show). She lives with her single mom—it's just the two of them. She wears outfits that show her creativity and make her stand out.

Abigail plays Marmee (the mom)—she wants to be a famous author. She's dedicated herself to only writing, drama club, and going to church with her family. She finds the average teenager to be annoying and immature; only her theatre friends have any depth. She doesn't let anyone see her writing because it makes her too nervous; it needs to be perfect. She has four older siblings who are varying degrees of "cool" while they attended high school, and now they are starting families and getting stable jobs. She wants desperately to stick out from them and forge her own path.

Anna plays Meg—her life path should be pretty straightforward. She'll be valedictorian, she'll go to a great university, get a solid degree, find a job, get married, and whatever else happens next. Her family is full of high performers, like doctors and lawyers. But she's struggling with following in those exact footsteps, and whether she really wants to go against the grain. Her new boyfriend pushes her out of her comfort and challenges her in good ways and terrible ways.

May plays Amy—she doesn't know what she wants to do after high school. She usually seeks attention in all that she does, so she's thought about becoming a YouTuber or blogger. Her high school career is marked by the boys she's had crushes and how unsuccessful she has been with them. Her parents were divorced at a young age, and both remarried. It seems like neither family pays enough attention to her, but at least she can always count on her friends. It'll be hard to leave them when they all go to college.

Lizzie plays Beth—she's the only junior in the group. She isn't graduating just yet. May is her best friend of all time, and they have their last year together planned to a tee. When her dad gets a better job in another state, and they plan to move shortly after the play closes, her world is shattered, and her feelings for May are getting harder and harder to ignore. Lizzie has never loved tough talks or confrontation, so she keeps it a secret to spare May's feelings. But her friends begin to notice when her once-bubbly, quick-witted personality is dulled.

WC: 496/200

Task 3:

Reducio

When will you work on your story? This task is looking for you to create a schedule for when you will allocate time to write your story. Don't worry if you are unable to stick to it in the end - even creating a schedule is a great start! It can be difficult to find the time to sit down and write, especially when you lack the motivation and have such a large target to reach. However, I find that breaking your target down into smaller, more manageable goals on a more regular basis can be helpful in keeping up the motivation and not burning out too quickly (to reach 50,000 words in NaNoWriMo, that is roughly 1670 words per day, or 12,500 per week). This task has no word count minimum or individual completion reward, but if you complete it along with all of the other tasks, you can earn the additional rewards (1 house point and 10 sickles).

I try to write an hour a day usually, but it can be a mix of work writing and personal writing. For November, I've added an extra hour to this time for NaNoWriMo. My plan is to try to get 1670ish words during this extra hour. I think I still have a few discoveries to make about the characters and the world, so I might use my word count to do more pre-writing until I feel good enough to make an outline. 50K words is a lot, so if I stick to the schedule, I should still get to drafting this month. I've been working on this project forever, and I'm excited to use this month has a good excuse to make some serious headway.

Day 1

response to ch. 1 of Little Women

The body, gruesome and gory, was a spiritual and visual affront to the guests. A hush stilled over the room, chilling the warmth of the festivities. A blood-curdling scream would have felt at home in this moment, or so the host, Abigail [Jane] thought. But no one had supplied that bit of ambiance.

Jane took a deep breath and turned to face the crowd. She kept her crystal champagne glass aloft in one hand. (Hopefully, this did not convey a lack of innocence.)

“Everyone! It seems a grave event has darkened our fete’s doorstep. The doors of the chateau have been locked for some time—so I fear the culprit of such a crime must still be in this room—” She took a dramatic pause, examining their faces. Jane Crawford had an air for theatrics, even during a crisis. She prided herself in her hosting abilities even if that meant hosting a criminal investigation.

“I think we need to examine the facts. Retrace our steps. And most of all, we must not panic.”

On cue, [Louisa] began to panic. She began to whip her feather boa about, sending it flying into other guests’ faces. “Oh dear me! I’m too young to die! You must let me out of here! I cannot be murdered! My publicist would not even want me implicated near a murder! Help! Help!”

In her frenzy, [Louisa] stumbled right into the body, which in return grunted “Ow. That was my hand.”

[Louisa] whispered a hurried “sorry” and looked sheepishly toward [Abigail] and the other guests. Biting her lip, holding back a grin, [Louisa] said, “I guess he’s not that dead after all.”

The other guests began to giggle. [May] raised her hand, “Can I just take a pee break? This costume takes a second to get out of it. Lizzie, can you help?”

Jane [Abigail] sighed, placing her head in her free hand. Her sparkling grape juice was flat. And her brother couldn’t even act dead right. “You guys are going to take it seriously, right? After the pee break?”

“Oh my god, Abigail, of course,” [May] shouted from the bathroom. “It’s your freaking birthday! And it’s a murder mystery! I just had a lot of sparkling grape juice. Sorry!”

“I think we just need to take the scene again. I’m sure the mystery is amazing—written by our own birthday girl. I’ve been studying my character all week.”

There’s a magic that exists in the theatre; there’s a magic that happens when someone assumes the role of another. When someone that doesn’t even exist begins to talk, to feel, to see, to be. It might seem too trite or overwrought to say, but the art of acting is creating magic. But the part that isn’t usually said is that this magic is especially potent where the stars shine the least bright. Yes, forget your Oscar winners and method-acting madmen and late show viral interviews.

Instead, think about a dusty stage—the lights overhead haven’t been changed in years because no one knows that they should move, many of the seats in the house have lost that automatic spring so they lay flat and mismatched; the stage floor is littered with paint splatter and discarded paper with highlighted lines and threads from threadbare costumes—all long forgotten, no ownership. When the room is silent, listen to the hum of the old boiler just beyond the wings—it takes up most of the “backstage” area. This stage has never been graced by a star. This stage will never see a large ecstatic crowd. But its performers create real magic. They say their lines and follow their cues and listen for the sparse laughter beyond the blinding brightness of the stage lights. They create real magic here because they believe. This isn’t a job for them; this isn’t even yet a lifelong passion, it’s something they do to fill their nights and weekends, and allows them to to believe in something bigger than themselves for the first time even if it’s also all about the lead roles and the best lines and the coolest costumes. Yes, the dingiest, smallest, least-funded high school theatre is where magic happens. You heard me right, [real] magic. And this is one such story.

introduction exercises to characters

Louisa
“You really shouldn’t cry when trying to get your point across. It makes you look like a mess.”

The response that was about to burst from Louisa’s lips caught against her teeth. She had not been expecting Ms. Wilson to say that. It was as if a sudden mirror flew into the space between them. Louisa was no longer looking into Ms. Wilson’s eyes; she could see herself reflected back. She was a blubbering mess. A small girl in a room too big for her. A conversation too big for her. An argument that was insurmountable to climb. An imposter.

Against all that she had stood for seconds ago, she believed Ms. Wilson. She no longer wanted to change the woman’s mind. She no longer wanted to be heard. Louisa wanted to exit this scene, and hopefully, she could find some shrapnel of her dignity on the way out.

It would take Louisa years to realize this, but arguments were never about the logic of the content. Sparring with mutual respect is a discussion, even a heated discussion, but never an argument.  Arguments were about the wills of the people involved, how badly they wanted to reduce their opponent to spare parts, to a chalk outline. If they could accomplish that, then the caricature they saw in their head of the other person would become reality.

Ms. Wilson was saying something else. Louisa was responding to her, but that was an illusion. Louisa was already running out the door; she was already far away from her.

Abigail
There in black and white. Doom. A bad dream. Abigail as the mother? Surely she didn’t do that bad, right? Her audition wasn’t so subpar she didn’t even make it to one of the of little woman. Not Jo—that was devastating. But not even one of the other sisters? Now that was annihilation. Of course, Abigail’s head was swirling with the hypotheticals. What line she could have read better; how the intonation of her voice could have changed; how she always moved her hand like that—why couldn’t she shed herself completely? But there was another more cynical thought rising to the surface: She was the tallest of the girls. This new Ms. Wilson had chosen purely on looks. This thought did not reassure Abigail of her acting prowess or connection to the novel’s main character. In fact, she wanted to melt then and there. In the school hallway, in front of the principal’s office, to never be seen or heard from again. Her own body was a prison from which she could not escape; it grew and tugged in several different ways at all times, causing people to look at her in new and hideous ways. Now it betrayed her; it cost her the one thing she loved most.

Abigail realized she had looked who had got the part of Jo—Louisa of course. Of course. Of course. The train of the destruction of her senior year was right on course. Now she stood at the crossroads: go home and cry several gallons or go congratulate Louisa in first period.

Lizzie
Lizzie reached up and cupped Louisa’s face. She said her final line. Louisa looked so sad; she was killing it. Their faces were close. Lizzie thought she could hear some sniffles coming from the crowd; otherwise, the crowd was silent. But it wasn’t the type of silence they had been hearing throughout the night—silences in the theater have different flavors. Unfortunately, judging by the crowd’s silence up until now, Lizzie knew that the play was a flop, a dud. It was horrifically boring. That much should be obvious from the script, but it’s different when you play an active role in a dud. You can’t see it for what it is until the silence fills the room. But now, during the tragic Beth death scene, the crowd was silent but there was electricity in the air. They were rapt with attention.

Lizzie held Louisa’s gaze, knowing her scene partner felt this too. Their faces were so close that Lizzie could almost kiss her. With that, Lizzie saw a flash of May’s face, and she began to weep. It was all there, as plain as day—what Lizzie wanted and what May didn’t want, what May didn’t like, what most people didn’t like. Louisa reappeared and treated the tears like a new scene partner, a welcome improvisation. And Beth died. And Lizzie came to terms with her metaphorical death as she was wheeled off the stage in the dark.

May
May got to rehearsal early. Ms. Wilson was always there, and she loved to talk to talk to the girls. May knew the woman had her flaws, in the arena of theatre for one, but what Ms. Wilson lacked in director knowledge, she made up for in real-world knowledge. Ms. Wilson was almost thirty, she had dated, gone to college, been in a sorority—accomplished all things on May’s bucket list. She was the older sister May wanted, no, needed.

Today, she needed that sisterly advice. Sitting alone center stage, Ms. Wilson was propped up on a riser, awaiting her teen court.

“Hi, Ms. Wilson!”

“Oh, hello, May, how are we today?”

“Good.” May struggled to broach the topic. How to seem cool and nonchalant, but also in desperate need of advice?

Luckily, Ms. Wilson bridged that gap for her. “How’s school? How are boys?”

May flushed. “Well, I do like this one boy.” Was it better to tell her outright? Or keep his identity a secret?

As if summoned, the auditorium door reverberated—[Alex] walked through.

Ms. Wilson waved him over, “Alex! Alex! Yes, come here, we’re talking about boys!”

If May had been flushed before, now she was red hot, her stomach flushing itself down the toilet.

Alex bounded over. “Oh?”

May couldn’t breathe, he was standing right next to her, his scent of Hollister and sandalwood wafting to her. It made her sick.

“May has a crush! Do you have any advice for her?”

Ms. Wilson was playing some sick joke. Did she already know May’s secret? Was she that obvious? Or did the older woman have a scent for these sorts of things because she had been there, done that? Ms. Wilson’s eyes were alight; something sinister lurking behind them. Louisa was right, she wanted to make a fool of all of them. May’s panic was rising; was she visibly shaking? Each millisecond exploded into a drawn-out moment, May searching for an exit.

Then Alex answered, “I mean I guess my situation is a little different. But just tell you like him. It worked for me. Does he go here?”

May was able to let out a single unshaken syllable. “No.”

“Oh, so no one I know. I would offer to be a wingman.”

May tried to say thanks, but only a tepid nod spawned.

“Oh, how cute!” Ms. Wilson clapped her hands together. “See, May, a gay best friend is great to have in your repertoire.”

For a second, May didn’t comprehend the words. She looked at Alex, who was now beet-red as well. Though his face was stern, like steam was building up behind it. Under his breath, with only May able to make it out, he whispered, “I can be a normal best friend, too.”

And then with a flip, he let out a bellowing laugh. “Yeah, yeah, May, I can help with boy stuff; I guess I am a bit of an expert.”

Then all at once, it dawned on May. A new wave of embarrassment fluttered through her. The object of her pining was inaccessible, was false; she had misread him completely. She had never lost a crush in this way. Usually, boys appeared to her in three dimensions, and one look, one comment, and one gross intention brought them into two dimensions with the label “not it.” But Alex became more fully fleshed out in front—all of their past interactions in a new perspective. Her crush was still there, but now unattainable, it stopped being so hungry, so all-encompassing. Alex as a friend sounded nice, more comforting even than as a boyfriend; she still wanted to be in his orbit, but the shape of it had changed.

WC: 2090

Day 2

introduction exercises continued

Anna
A few audience members were scattered about—their first audience members. An invite reserved for the most deserving and considerate. It was a delicate time. Anna’s stomach was tied in knots the moment she stepped into the auditorium. Today it had a new smell; it was still musty, still schoollike, still filled with silent yet echoey air, but today that air was reverberating with anticipation, teeming with kinetic magic and possible failure.

It was final dress.

Anna had invited Johnny. She couldn’t see him through the thin window formed by the two closed curtains; most of the friends and family were concentrated in the front row. Johnny was probably sitting out of view since he was already familiar with their usual dress rehearsal circle.

The stage manager frantically called for places, the volume just under the swell of the house music.

So it began. The girls eyed each other—they had prepared their extra movements in secret and now it was time to let the blocking out the bag.

Anna took her place, a puffy dress plumped up around her feet, and began with her faux knitting.

Cues to lights, music, and speech from Ms. Wilson, then to more lights, and finally the curtain.

And the play began.

Anna took sneaking glances at the audience in between her lines, She couldn’t spot Johnny. Her search became so frantic that she started counting the members of the audience—each was identified and attributed to another cast member. It was dizzying; did she tell him the wrong thing? The wrong time? The wrong place? He had said such loving words about tonight; he had promised to be here.

“Meg? What do you think, Meg?”

Louisa as Jo was glancing worriedly at her. Oh shit, she had lost track of the scene. Anna’s cheeks bloomed red.

Louisa as Louisa caught on to her plight and improved Jo into the next line. Anna identified her next line and was able to deliver it, but she was Anna speaking the lines; Meg and her heart were not in them.

1. draft of prologue

Any high school Thespian will be happy to tell you the definition of that word and to expound on the magic of theatre. Sure, Broadway actors and movie stars might describe their work as having a certain “magic,” but a high schooler will know that magic—no air quotes.

This is a story about one such group of small Thespians. They learn, as we all did in one way or another, that the magic is at its fullest the moment before it dissipates. That’s growing up. The theatre can hold the wiles and extremes of life for only so long; then reality creeps in. This story mourns that loss but also cherishes it.

In Little Women, Louisa May Alcott says that “some people seemed to get all sunshine and some all shadow.” I would offer her a rebuttal: it depends on which direction you look.

On the stage, however, our young players get all sunshine, so bright they can’t see the audience’s face, so bright they can’t smell the years of must coating the old auditorium, so bright they don’t remember the lines drawn between them, so bright they can’t see themselves from the character, so bright it casts shadows on nothing but the present.

I have been on that stage, and I am thankful I never have to go back, but I am grateful there was a time when I lived so enormously and I couldn’t see past the lights.

2. draft of chapter one

Louisa melted into the comforter of her bed, her dog happily curled up next to her. Her backpack lay half open on the floor; its books threatening to spill out.

Winter break had started.

The stress of final exams, the fall play, the clubs, college applications, and an overly full schedule was dripping out of her pores as she stared at the ceiling of her bedroom. The next two weeks were unscheduled and unfocused and full of freedom. It felt like the two weeks could last forever. She could spend time with her boyfriend, her friends, play video games, train her dog to play dead, and read those seven books on her nightstand.

Of course, there were also college auditions to prepare for. She still needed to choose two monologues to master. And she could probably spend some time thinking of fundraising activities for the Thespian Society—and she could start memorizing the world capitals for quiz bowl—and it was never too early to start worrying about the upcoming AP exams.

As Luisa started to feel as if she was relaxing—she was a good actor so to an outside observer, she would have looked comfortable, cozy even—her brain would always break out in this low hum. Her mind would loop through all of her goals, breaking them into reasonable-sized chunks (reasonable if you had twenty-five waking hours in a day) and placing them into small mental compartments, only to be opened when the ever-growing to-do list reached that arena.

Luisa was relaxed. This was relaxing. Knowing thyself and pushing toward one's goal was basically a spa day.

After approximately ninety seconds of the relaxation session had passed, she sat upright and pulled her planner from her backpack. She began making that to-do list for her winter break. She only lasted about twenty items per day, which was completely doable considering she didn’t have to go to school.

Her phone pinged with a text from Connor.

Movie night tonight? Inglorious Basterds again?

Louisa smiled, and immediately abandoned her to-do list and the seven items she had planned for tonight. Watching movies at Connor’s house meant snuggling and making out and possibly more in his basement. She might be a teenager on a mission with big goals and ambitions, but she was still a teenager after all.

She swiftly texted back Yes!!!

Luisa and Connor had been dating for almost a year—and in high school years that length made them a staple of the teenage dating scene. They might as well be married at this point. Lousia was so far the only one in her friend group to score this goalpost, and she felt a lot of pride in being the most committed and the most experienced of the group. In one’s adolescence, large moments of growth were abundant, but almost everyone gained them at the same time. Anything that could nudge the needle and put one’s growth ahead of one’s peers mattered immensely. Who was the first to get a car? Who was the first to French kiss? Get a job? It was inevitable that everyone would hit these markers eventually, but the race to get them first was insatiable (and in some circles abstaining the longest was another waging battle worth winning). All of this intertwined with college applications and grade point averages made a high school an implicit arms race like no other.

And Louisa knew she was winning: lead roles in the plays, tied for valedictorian, president of the Thespian Society and captain of the Quizbowl team, and an outside job at a professional theatre company. The boyfriend and her silver Grand Prix were crowning jewels. No one would ever tally these out loud, least of all Louisa, but calculations were there under the surface.

Grabbing her phone and keys, she sped out of her room and toward the front door. “Mom! I’m going to Connor’s. I’ll just eat dinner there, okay?”

Louisa’s mom was sitting at the dinner table, sorting through what looked like bills. She still had her work clothes, but that was most likely soon to change. She always slipped into sweats and slippers before cooking dinner. She glanced up at her daughter, “Okay! Be safe! Are you staying the night?”

“Probably.”

“Ok be back for breakfast, which I guess for you is lunchtime.”

Unlike most parents, or even what Louisa thought her mom would be like, Lousia’s mom didn’t bat an eye at her daughter staying the night at a boy’s house. Once in middle school, her mom had thrown a fit that there was a co-ed birthday that might have some unsupervised moments in a basement. But after meeting Connor, her mother had a new reiteration of the “talk” with her, emphasizing protection and consent. Louisa wasn’t sure what had changed her mom’s views, but she was grateful. She felt it impossible to lie to her mom and couldn’t imagine not having her shoulder to cry on. Maybe it was that Connor was a good guy, and she was happy, and she was a good kid, too. Or maybe being a single mom was harder than Louisa could ever imagine, and there was always an essence of choosing your battles.

So her grades were high, and the teenage rage outbursts were kept to a minimum, her mom let her come and go as she pleased. There was an understanding that all Louisa had to do was be honest, and her mother’s love could wrap around and leap across any fault.

WC: 1514; Running Total: 3604

3. draft of chapter two

Abigail’s sister lay dead on the floor. White tape outlined her body, it was comically misshaped, and her limbs weren’t even in the right places. Blood was dribbled down the front of her starchy white T-shirt.

The blood looked like ketchup—bright and plasticky—Abigail sighed inwardly. They hadn’t mixed it like she had instructed them to. Her older siblings were gung-ho about helping with her murder mystery birthday party and bringing the story she wrote to life, but they did not understand the importance of the little details. At least all of her guests were seasoned theatre performers and understood the importance of committing to the scene.

And right on cue, they all begin to react with varying levels of melodrama. This in turn was her brother’s cue to enter and report that the phones were down and the doors had been mysteriously locked. Moments flashed by and he still hadn’t entered.

“Let me see if I can phone the police!” she yelled to the crowd.

Storming out of the dining room, she marched to the family room, deemed the “backstage” area. There she found her brother focused on his Xbox. He hadn’t even noticed her come in.

“Aaron. Aaron!”

“Oh hey, Ab, what’s up?”

“Have you forgotten about your entrance? You don’t even have your butler costume on!”

“It was itchy—oh, dang I’m sorry, Ab, I thought I had time for a quick game—”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll fix it.” The look on Abigail’s face clearly intended for him to worry about it. He would get a thorough dressing down later.

She resisted slamming the door shut. Placing one arm on the wall of the hallway, Abigail tried to center herself. Instead, she found herself staring at the family photos that adorned the walls. Two older brothers and two older sisters sitting next to their parents. She always looked like the seventh wheel. Each of the others followed a straightforward path: honors classes with sports practice, a boyfriend or girlfriend they were going to marry after college, and a plan to have two to three kids by age twenty-six. At least that’s how Abigail had calculated it. While she had the honors classes down, even outshining in courses where her siblings had only averaged, her interests in theatre and writing and her noninterest in boys or dating came off as strange, like a phase she would outgrow. She knew that her family loved her, but she couldn’t help feeling like she was the odd one out and that her accomplishments would always remain in the shadows of their more sanctioned, preplanned, and lab-tested accomplishments. Abigail found it easy to navigate these waters by remaining quiet and reserved at school, even among her friends. If she didn’t create an air of novelty or confidence around her, then she wouldn’t stick out so much.

But her birthday was supposed to be different. The whole family had rallied behind this murder mystery party idea. She was still the baby of the family after all. But she knew during their three dress rehearsals over winter break that their heads weren’t fully in it. They couldn’t see the importance of pacing, the correct hue of red for the blood, or staying in character.

the monk preptober prompt

Mr. Maple had a unique perspective on the education system. He saw kids come and go from the hallowed halls of the high school—he knew what they were up to at their worst, and he rarely got to see the triumphs when they were at their best. So, yes, he was a bit jaded on the system, and the freedoms it afforded teenagers. Many teachers opine on those small moments that keep them going, but Mr. Maple gained no inspiration from his position. He was the school’s sole security guard, and the teachers were naive if they thought this was a well-mannered institution training the next generation’s bright young minds. No, this school kept the community’s most raucous individuals from terrorizing everyone else, though Mr. Maple had little hope that they would ever learn to become better members of society, and he wished maybe they would move to another town and wreak havoc there.

He caught teens sneaking to their cars to do who-knows-what, teens hiding in secluded hallways to do who-knows-what, using their hall passes to misuse bathroom privileges (yes, for these cretans, the bathroom was a privilege) to do who-knows-what, and escaping class for the sanctuary of the library to do who-knows-what. Mr. Maple never wanted to find out exactly what any of the students wanted to do, and he never wanted to meet those who would know what they wanted to do. They were up to no good, plain and simple.

The school’s only saving grace was the honors students. They were already pillars of their community and well-oiled, functioning members of civilized society if you asked Mr. Maple (no one ever did ask him). It was obvious to him: an honors student going to the bathroom was just that, an honors student in the library was extra studious, an honors student in a secluded hallway was probably working on a tough project, and an honors student going to their car forgot something important. As far as Mr. Maple was concerned, educated members of the school could enjoy their full freedoms, and he would not need to micromanage them. He was plenty busy with the other students as it was.

He had no handbook. He never explained his methodology to any administrative honcho (principals came and went, but security guards were stalwart and constant). He never so much as had a single performance review. Teachers would give him polite nods, but many were not sure of his first name. Students feared his steady footfalls, his keys jingling on his belt with a terrifying high-pitched staccato. His was the school’s—nay, the whole town’s lone wolf that kept the chaos at bay.

the paladin preptober prompt

Louisa

Louisa has a strong sense of right and wrong. It’s hard for her to let any slight or small injustice go unchallenged. Her friends think of her as being confrontational, but deep down, where she doesn’t even know it, she hates confrontation and would rather only please those around her. That’s why being an actor is so appealing—the full spectrum of emotion but on a pleasing platter for her audience. But in real life, when something goes wrong, a response bubbles to the surface and out of her mouth faster than she can think. So Louisa fights hard against all misunderstandings, incorrect judgments, and implied insults—even when it gets her in hot water.

Abigail

For others, it’s not hard to see that Abigail is insecure. Her siblings are all normal definitions of “cool,” with boyfriends and girlfriends that are now turning into husbands and wives, and normal college degrees that are turning into stable jobs. She has no interest so far in any of this, but it’s difficult to pave a new path when you have no inspiration. Finding her friends was a saving grace, and among them, she can be Abigail—aspiring author, Abigail—the mature one, Abigail—the mom friend, Abigail—the wordsmith. She will defend this perception to the ends of the earth because, without it as armor, her insecurities would have free reign.

Anna

Anna thought that her life plan was important to her. She wanted to follow the family career path: valedictorian, amazing college applications, affordable but well-respected state school, stable and erudite career. Her defense of that plan is becoming weaker and weaker. On one hand, her friends are making more unique choices and following crazy dreams. On the other, her new boyfriend Johnny is challenging her need to follow rules and listen to authority figures. She needs to find something new to defend before she has nothing left.

May

May has always found that it’s easiest to be a chameleon. As a child of divorced parents, she had to change her personality, rounding edges or sharpening emotions, when moving between each parent’s home. It’s a trait that works with friends as well. She becomes a book nerd with Abigail, an acting geek with Louisa, a studious student with Anna, and a fine art dealer of memes and jokes with Lizzie. She’s never had to worry about confrontation or defending herself when she’s always on someone’s good side. So when a schism in her friendships starts to form, she has to choose a side—who does she really believe and what does she really think?

Lizzie

It’s not Lizzie’s senior year, but it’s May’s and it was supposed to be the best years of their lives. But now she’s going to move away before prom and before May’s graduation. She’ll miss all of her friends graduating. Lizzie has decided that it hurts less if she doesn’t tell anyone about moving; she can capture the essence of the year she was supposed to have and preserve it. She defends her lie to the bitter end.

WC: 1506; running total: 5110

the ranger preptober prompt

The lights went out. Beth was dead. Closing night was over. It was all over. Lizzie’s friendships had vanished from her hands; her time on stage had marked the end. Next week, she would move to that other state, that other school, full of other theatre kids. But they wouldn’t be the same—this had been her stage, her home, and her friends. Nothing would replace that. Nothing would replace May.

She slowly got up from her place on the stage floor. Louisa had already run off to get ready for the next scene transition. Lizzie knew that her cumbersome movements would slow down the pace of the show. But Beth’s theme was playing over the speakers, and the audience was hopefully crying. They wouldn’t notice that the show had come to a halt as Lizzie took a few deep breaths of that sawdust smell that permeated the auditorium.

Finally, she tiptoed into the wing. It was at least thirty minutes until the curtain call. She quietly opened the stage door, the bright light of the white high school hallway blinding her. She wondered if she walked out of the darkness if she would be able to walk back in. Did she even need to do the curtain call? Did she have to go to the after-party? The gravity of her secret was finally hitting her.

That gravity pushed her into the light. When the door shut slowly behind her, the sound of the piano music cut sharply, and it was eerily quiet. It was Saturday night and, apart from the auditorium, the high school wasn’t supposed to have students in it at this time. It felt like Lizzie was walking on alien soil.

She walked past the theatre classroom where they kept all their belongings during the show. She walked out of the back wing, the out-of-character brick wall that marked that arts wing morphed into a locker-lined hallway. The lights in the main wing of the school were off. The warm glow from the arts wing faded into darkness. Lizzie kept walking. She walked past the main office, past the gymnasium, past the lunch room, and through the English hallway. She walked into she reached the end of the school, where a side door led to the school’s grounds.

Still coated in darkness, she could make out the school’s fence and the dense trees beyond it. She gently pushed on the door, expecting it to be locked or, worse, connected to an alarm. Instead, it opened easily, the sound of the latch bouncing down the hallway. But only Lizzie was here to listen to the echo—for some reason, she was now sure she was utterly alone.

The cool air hit her face. It felt refreshing after spending all night under the stage lights. She took off her boots and socks, letting her feet sink into the cool grass. The sun had nearly threatened summer earlier that day, but tonight there was still a trace of winter in the air.

Leaving her boots at the entrance, she let the door close. She wasn’t worried that it might lock from the outside. In fact, she was hoping for it. Lizzie headed for the fence, letting each footstep sink into the ground. She was soaking up the feeling of being here; she was willing the memories of her time to stay vivid and true.

She hiked up her dress and hopped over the fence—a bit of the lace snagged on the spiky top of the wire fence, but it ripped easily. It no longer mattered what her dress looked like. Her feet were now firmly in the dirt; the grass had grown shoddily here, either because of the shade of the trees or because the school’s landscaping didn’t bother beyond the fence boundary line.

Here the night was quieter. Lizzie knew that the patch of trees didn’t extend far; the school was nestled inside a neighborhood. But tonight, the trees felt like a large, dense forest full of mystery. It extended far beyond what Lizzie could walk.

She laid down, using a root as a pillow. She could make out the light of the moon shining through the leaves above her. She closed her eyes and let the tears flow.

the rogue preptober prompt

The opening night jitters were tempered by Anna’s frayed nerves. Last night, she had confronted Johnny for not showing up to final dress. He had a plethora of excuses, but Anna didn’t let herself be swayed by any of them. She was beginning to see some of the red flags Louisa had brazenly pointed out, but she was still trying to paint them in shades of pink and rose. With the opening of the play, it wasn’t a great time to think and reflect. After the shouting and crying in his car in the driveway of her house had concluded, Johnny agreed he had made a mistake and that he would, of course, be at opening night. He wouldn’t miss it for the world, he cooed to her, taking her hands. Her hands in his felt so warm and secure, his beautiful eyes watery and pleading. And so she forgave him. It seemed simple. It seemed right.

But when she woke up that morning, still exhausted, she felt as though she had made a mistake. Was she being tricked? She knew relationships were full of compromise, but she felt like her compromises were stretching beyond herself. Beyond who she could see herself being. Who was she before she dated Johnny? Who was she now? Who did she want to be? Anna quickly shook these thoughts from her head. Tonight, she wanted to be Meg. She wanted to open the play. She wanted to celebrate at Applebee’s after with her friends.

Johnny had picked her up for school that morning, like usual. He had bought her a sugary caffeine-free drink from Starbucks. She had cheerily thanked him. He kindly let her know that in all the “stress of last night,” she had forgotten her costume in his car, but he made sure it was still there in the backseat for her. There was something odd about the tone of his voice, but Anna pushed it off as awkwardness around their first real fight.

Now it was almost time to begin the show. The stage manager [name????] was calling “thirty til places!” The other cast members were dotted around the theatre classroom and had already gotten dressed and were finishing up their hair and makeup. Anna was sitting quietly at a desk in the back. Her dress still in its cover on her lap. Her makeup was half done—the exhaustion of the day, no the week really, was setting in, and she didn’t feel the pre-show adrenaline the others were clearly partaking in.

Louisa was leading vocal warm-ups. May was poking fun at them. The room was constantly erupting with sound and laughter. Knowing she was lagging behind, Anna decided to forgo the blush and mascara, the lipstick and eyeliner would be good enough for those in the back rows to see her. She unzipped her costume bag, and she instantly knew something was wrong. She finally got a shot of adrenaline, but this was not the good kind. Her heart was jumping into her throat and her brain was spinning into overdrive. Before she could fully process what to say or how to react, she let out an involuntary shriek.

The room’s energy turned to her and the laughter trailed off; the vocal trills cut short. Louisa was at her side. “Anna? What’s wrong? What happened?”

“My dress! Look at my dress! It’s ruined!”

The fabric of the dress was torn into several pieces like someone had put the front of it into an extra-large shredder. It was visually hard to understand because it was in perfect condition exactly twenty-four hours ago, fresh after Anna’s mom had steamed it. The clean stiffness was still present, but now the shreds erratically stood up in different directions, creating a jumbled mountain of polyester and lace.

Louisa began to touch it, also trying to comprehend watch she was seeing through touch. “Where was it last night? Did an animal get to it? This is so weird!”

Anna looked at her friend, knowing how what she was about to say would be interpreted. Her eyes were already welling with tears. “I left it in Johnny’s car after he took me home.”

the sorcerer preptober prompt

This is the most difficult part of the story for me right now. I know the characters and the general shape of the plot, and what kind of themes I want to focus on. But I really want the story to have an element of magic in it. Magical realism? Magical surrealism? Something that’s clearly magic? Something where it’s unclear if it’s magic or imagined? I have no idea. I just know that I want to somehow illustrate some of the themes through the magic of theatre that only a high school threatre kid can experience. When I was doing theatre as a high schooler, I believed that I was creating something actually magical. That performing plays could summon something extra to the stage and the audience and actors and everyone else could feel it. I was enamored by traditions and superstitions. I was taken aback by the idea of a ghost light. I thought my high school auditorium was haunted by something. I thought I could hear it whispering my name in the loud hum of the boiler room where we did our quick changes.

Then I grew up. I studied theatre in college and did it professionally. A lot of that magic became metaphorical. Still important, but not really real. There’s a lot of that in the original Little Women story. The girls do plays, they believe in big ideas, and then adulthood tempers a lot of that. But I have not landed on a system or a mechanism a that is able to capture that in this story.

A few things I’ve been thinking about and playing around with:

1. The most literal—the boiler room opens a portal to the universe of the play. Actual Little Woman characters enter the modern world and help with the play. Honestly this feels too messy, too many characters to keep track of, and unneeded plot lines to weight down the story.
2. When acting in the play, there are moments when the girls feel that really are the person they’re playing. They see their lives through the lens of how a Little Women character would see them. They receive new ideas (good or bad) on how deal with conflict or work out problems. This might work, but it also maybe feels a little too literal or on the nose.
3. Each girl interacts with the magic and play differently: they have two to four surreal moments that push them on their journey; in adulthood, they may be able to get one surreal moment of clarity. For example, Louisa might find herself watching rehearsal from the audience’s point of view, even though she’s currently on stage. It allows her to broaden the picture of what’s happening.

I’m leaning toward the last one because it allows me a lot of flexibility to summon magic when needed for the story, but keep it sort of ethereal and mysterious. But it also requires a lot of work to customize the experience in five different ways.

WC: 1920; running total: 7030

sorcerer preptober prompt continued

More thoughts on magic! I’m going to jot down a few ideas for the last option above so that I can start letting the ideas marinate and I can figure out where to put them in the story. The rules for the magic are that they have to happen in the theatre, in relation to the play Little Women, and there needs to be some connection to the humming of the boiler room. In the second act, during adulthood, they want to call on this magic, but they aren’t able to.

Louisa lets herself get caught up in feelings of righteousness, and she really hates misunderstandings. Other people might view her as harsh or obnoxious because of how hard she wants to stick to her guns. Her moments of magic need her to see the bigger picture. What battles are worth fighting for? If she’s trying to get into a college with a premier acting program, should she be wasting her time fighting her high school director? Can she learn to say “no” to things? She should be able to to watch herself during rehearsal from the audience and let herself see everyone’s motivations, and understand how her actions are affecting their responses. This can lead her astray as well because she could invalidate her own emotional responses, and ignore her own needs. (Also she’s really into theatre and taking on the role of the director, who she wants to replace in real life, would also be cool for her as a character.) I especially want to focus on the scene where Amy destroys Jo’s manuscript, and how the original book discusses Jo’s “temper problem.”

Abigail is determined to be different, but she also wants to fit in. She aspires to be a famous author, and she takes pride in writing and acting. She enjoys those things and she’s good at those things, and her identity is attached to “not-like-other girls theatre-kid writer-type.” Not being cast as Jo causes her identity to take a hit. Her friends also want to see her writing, and if she lets them see it and it’s not good, what does she have left? To sum it up, she’s deeply insecure and afraid of failure. The adaptation they’re performing is terrible, and Abigail knows the book pretty well. During intense moments of the play, she finds herself writing new monologues for Marmee, but when she looks at the script, the new text is written there. This lets us explore Marmee as a character more, and it gives Abigail the ability to see her writing in actual print.

Anna is going through a pseudo-rebellion. She’s smitten with a boy, who is challenging her goody-two-shoes nature. She’s always thought she had a set path after high school, but this relationship is making her realize things about herself and she’s questioning what she wants to do with her life. The relationship is also not great, and her friends can see that. But she’s determined not to listen to them. Who is she with her 10-year plan? Who is she in this relationship? Who should she be? For Anna, the moments of magic can come from the theatre lighting. Her story involves not seeing red flags in her relationship, and only seeing one lighted path forward. She plays Meg who does the classic thing for women of the time: get married and have kids. Anna can follow lit paths around the stage to start to consider that there are many different ways to live a life.

May doesn’t get attention from her parents, and so she seeks it from her friends. And that usually works—that’s what friends are for. But she also desperately wants a boyfriend. Every failed romance attempt is a ding to her self-confidence, which causes her to turn the attention seeking up. She always relied on Lizzie to be there for her, but now that Lizzie clearly needs her, she’s not sure how to de-center herself. She takes part in the growing schism between Abigail and Louisa, seeking newfound companionship and attention from Abigail and in turn, Ms. Wilson, the new cool young adult in their life. May gets to live through rehearsals where the play is recast, often her role getting the most lines and stage time. But this opens her up to criticism from a rowdy crowd. Only when she lets other people have the limelight does she get the applause. This finally allows her to see something is wrong with Lizzie.

Lizzie is lying to her friends about moving. And that’s wrapped in a lie she tells herself about her sexuality and her feelings for May. She just wants to pretend nothing is changing, and she closes off the outside world to preserve her perfect high school existence. There is a notable change in behavior that pushes May and the other girls away. Lizzie’s is kind of already figured out. She’s afraid of exiting when Beth dies. Maybe the wing she exits into is extra scary and she feels suffocated by the darkness. She’s finally able to walk out peacefully on closing night, knowing that she will finally tell everyone the truth.

Right now, it kind of feels like everyone learns their lesson and it gets tied up with a neat bow. But I think that’s how act one will end. The end of the “after-school special” vibe will end the character’s adolescence. When we meet them in act two, they’ll be almost thirty and we’ll find the hard truth that these lessons are not easily learned.

Maybe in act two, they go back home for a reunion, and they enter the auditorium one last time. And there some of the magic comes back—just an echo of it. It gives them just enough to make a few changes in their adult lives for the better. It won’t perfect their lives, but it’ll be a step in the right direction. I guess that’s like the theme of “healing your inner child” and learning to accept life? That’s what it means to “come of age”?

the plot map so far

- **act 1** [2013]

1 prologue

**auditions**

2 Louisa — christmas break

3 Abigail — the murder mystery

4 May — the slumber party

5 Anna — new boyfriend & new director [magic paths #1]

6 Lizzie — the secrets [magic: the scary wings #1]

7 Little Women — auditions & integrating laurie [magic: may & critics #1]

**rehearsals**

8 Louisa — cast list

9 Abigail — table read [magic: rewriting! #1]

10 May — new boys

11 Anna — scheduling

12 wilson — dreams deferred

13 Little Women — off book catastrophes & burning manuscripts [magic: louisa's temper #1]

**tech week**

14 Louisa — the big off-book moment [magic: louisa's temper #2]

15 Abigail — connection with Wilson’s boyfriend; guilt [magic: rewriting #2]

16 May — break in friendship [magic: critics #2]

17 Anna — taking sides [magical paths #2]

18 maple — preparing the school

19 Little Women — the dress rehearsal, pivotal scenes and audience reception [magic wings #2]

**aftermath**

20 Louisa — opening [magic temper #3]

21 Abigail — intermission [magic rewriting #3]

22 May — the families after [magic critics #3]

23 Anna — closing [magic paths #3]

24 Lizzie — leaving [magic wings #3]

25 Little Women — going separate ways, tragedies

- **act 2** [2023? 2025?]

**struggle**

Louisa — in LA & the breakup

Abigail — teaching & dating apps

May — in japan, editing videos

Anna — the wedding & the kids

Lizzie — austin & new worlds

Little Women — snapshots of travel & reunion

**resolution**

Louisa — picking up the pen

Abigail — going home for christmas

May — moving home

Anna — going back to school

Lizzie — resdiscovering theatre

Little Women — the happily ever after?

WC: 1311; Running total: 8341