How to Write a Novel in 7 Days [PREVIEW]

Lesson 1 - How to Fail for the Seventh Time

I don't remember exactly when it all started. Maybe it was when I finished reading Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone, the first non-academic book I ever picked up. Or maybe it was during the creative writing workshop I had accidentally signed up for. Then again, maybe it was when my best friend, Aya, caught sight of one of my drafts, read it, and encouraged me to continue.

Well, no matter what its cause might have been, I'm certain of one thing: I want to be a full-fledged writer. I want to see my work in print, to have people read and appreciate what I've written. I want people to get themselves lost in the worlds I create as they dwell in them with my characters. For people to understand my characters' sentiments and journey along with them through the mostly ill-fated—but occasionally blissful—happenings of their lives.

And now, at long last, I'm finally going to see this dream come true.

Just as soon as they send that letter of approval...

"You know, Sia, it's called a party for a reason. You're supposed to be socializing and having fun, not sitting around and texting."

Sigh. It's bad enough that my mom forced me to go to this reunion thing, but to once again come face-to-face with this guy is just so... horrid.

Marc Ramirez was arguably the most popular guy back in high school. Everyone loved him. Well, everyone except me. I despised him. I was the only one who saw him for who he really was — a conceited jerk who cared for nothing but his own personal benefit. How he managed to blind everyone else remains a mystery to me, but I really don't care. He can go ahead and do what he wants with his life, just as long as he leaves me in peace. Then again, it looks like he's not capable of that at all.

After all these years, it seems that he has retained his popularity. I mean, sure, he's good-looking, but is he even accomplished? Just what degree did he attain after college, anyway? Did he even go to college? Bah. Forget it. I don't really care.

"Mind your own business," I scoff, turning back to my cell phone. No replies yet. I slouch against my chair and sigh. No text from Aya means that they haven't sent that e-mail yet. I should really consider getting an Internet data plan.

"If you were just going to text your boyfriend the entire night, you should have brought him along instead!" says Marc, taking the empty seat to my left. "Welcome na welcome siya rito!"

"Shut up," I snap. "At puwede ba? That seat is taken." Okay. So maybe all the other people I was sharing the table with are on the dance floor, but that doesn't change the fact that someone is sitting (or will be sitting) there.

"Oho! Puwede ba, Ms. Valencia? I'm the host of this little party and I think that more or less gives me the right to sit wherever I want," Marc says, laughing. "Really. You haven't changed a bit since high school. KJ ka pa rin hanggang ngayon."

How dare this guy... I struggle for a retort but the arrival of Kari Valdez, Marc's rumored girlfriend (yes, even after high school, there are still many rumors going around—it comes with popularity, I suppose), saves me from having to come up with one. She looks pretty much the same as she did back in high school, if not taller, slimmer, and much more gorgeous. Her long, black hair, dyed with golden brown streaks, reaches up to her waist, while her porcelain face is made even prettier by the make-up she used. Not too dark, not too light. In an elegant gesture only she is capable of making, Kari grabs Marc's arm, gets him up on his feet, and pulls him towards the dance floor.

"Come on, Marc! Don't just sit there. Dance with me!" Kari speaks as if I wasn't there. She is completely ignoring me. Not that I wanted her to notice me, but still... What a bitch. Why do gorgeous looks always seem to come with attitude problems?