How to Write a Novel in 7 Days [PREVIEW]

Lesson 3 - How to be Friends with the Person You Hate

The conditions of our agreement are simple.

I am given seven days, from May 21 to 27, to write a novel. I am free to choose whatever genre I want as long as the manuscript gets completed within the given time interval. Each day, I am to send a part of my work, not necessarily in chronological order, to Sir Oliver via e-mail as proof of my progress. Come midnight on May 28, Sir Oliver should already have the entire manuscript.

However, during the same seven days, I am to spend time with Marc. Without a single complaint, I am to do whatever he tells me to. Throughout every day of the week, Marc will be picking me up at my house for whatever activity he has planned. Then, I am free to go home by 5 PM so I can work on my novel.

If I can survive the week doing whatever Marc tells me to while, at the same time, managing to complete a marketable novel, I am assured a publishing deal with Liberia.

~

Arriving home after making what possibly might be the worst deal of my life, I immediately dash for my room. Flustered over the sudden turn of events, I know that I have no time to spare. I have seven days to write a novel. I wonder if such a feat has been accomplished before. It's unheard of. It's an ambitious project that is impossible for even the most skillful writers in the world.

But, it's what I have to do to make my dream a reality.

Before leaving his office, I had asked Sir Oliver if it was okay if I reuse the plot from Lost in a Moment. He agreed but insisted that even if I use the same plot, characters, and whatnot, I must rewrite the entire manuscript. So, after recycling a few parts and adding some new details here and there, I end up with a pretty decent rough outline. (At least, that's what I think...)

A bit satisfied, I force myself to sleep. Tomorrow, the long week starts.

~

Day 1 - Tuesday, May 21

Marc should be here in a while.

After explaining everything to Mom, I prepared myself for whatever's in store for today. Dad's still not speaking to me. It can't be helped, considering how I talked to him yesterday. Mom said that she'd handle him for me.

In the meantime, here I am, waiting for Marc to arrive, and for some reason, I'm pretty nervous. Who knows why Sir Oliver had to include this as a condition to the deal... Maybe, it's to make the challenge even harder than it already is. To write a novel in seven days is difficult, but to do it for only half the days just seems impossible.

"Your date's here, dear," goes Mom. "Mag-ingat kayo."

I stand up and sigh. "He's not my date, Mom."

Ah geez. Here we go...

~

"So, where exactly are we going?"

"What's with that unpleasant tone? Don't you trust me?"

"Of course I don't!"

I was expecting Marc Ramirez to appear dressed in classy designer clothes, with a flashy car, complete with a personal driver. He is, after all, that kind of guy. Back during our high school days, it was no secret that he was filthy rich.

But, going against all my expectations, Marc appeared alone and without a car. He was wearing simple clothes too—a blue plaid polo and jeans. He led the walk out of our subdivision and into the main street.

And now, we're riding a cab, headed to who-knows-where. Marc had slyly whispered our destination to the driver. I have absolutely no idea where we're headed.