Conclusion to the Novel I Probably Won't Ever Write

This week for Declamation, we had to present the ending of the novel we started last week.

Ever since That Day, Janet’s life had never been the same. That Day, she had cursed the stars, so obviously aligned against her. Now she laughed, thinking over all that had happened since then. Her life had not been unusual or beyond her wildest dreams; it had been better. True, life hadn’t been all sunshine and rainbows, but rather hard and stormy. But thanks to That Day, she couldn’t see the clouds for the silver lining. Years ago, she was too old for fairytales. Now she was old enough for them again, and was living as they all promised: Happily Ever After.

The Intro to the Novel I Probably Won't Ever Write

I'm back at school now, and classes are in full swing. This week's declamation assignment is to write the intro to the novel I've always wanted to write. So here it is. I can't say I've always wanted to write it, since it all came together within the last hour. I don't even feel like I can take credit for it; my Muse kicked in, and this is what came out.

“This has got to be one of Those Days,” Janet muttered darkly. She had never had one of Those Days, being a normal person, and she didn’t know how to cope. It was 3:00 in the afternoon, and she had had a string of embarrassing firsts. She had burnt her toast, dashed in late for an interview, and given a great impression of a bull in the china closet on the way out to her car, where she’d found her first parking ticket. That was bad. But bad had become worse when she’d realized her purse was locked inside, along with her keys and phone, leaving her way up an unfamiliar creek without the necessary equipment. That was when she’d banged her head against the window, much to the amusement of a few pigeons. But that was hours ago. A stranger had lent her a phone, the locksmith hadn’t broken anything, her ticket was paid, and she had coffee. Janet savored the last sip of her mocha. This headache Day would be over in less than nine hours, if she could last that long. Janet took a deep breath, then marched outside. Half a block later, her purse strap snapped. The bag hit the concrete with a thud, erupting its contents everywhere. She rolled her eyes and chased her belongings. “Honestly, doesn’t Prada know how to make a purse anymore?” she snapped, fishing for her lipstick underneath a Chevy. She grabbed it and pulled back, then stopped as she caught sight of something in the mud next to her hand. “Wow,” she whispered. She looked around quickly, then picked it up, wiping away the grime. This Day was definitely refusing to be normal.