NaNoWriMo 2013: Want to Write a Novel?

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Excited to start the month of November!

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It’s just a few days until November, and you know what that means: National Novel Writing Month, better known ’round these parts as NaNoWriMo, is near.

Have you always wanted to write a novel?

We know some of you have been waiting all year for this month! For those of you who are new to this project, here’s the gist:

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The day I met my biological brother….

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It was an ordinary school day. My friends and I loaded onto the bus and settled in the back seats for the 45 minute ride to the high school. I was thirteen years old and in the 8th grade that year. We made our usual stops along the bus route and stopped at the corner of Highland Street to pick up a group of kids that walked to the end of the road to wait for the bus. There was a new kid at the bus stop that day. He was skinny, with dark hair, a face full of acne and the biggest adam’s apple I had ever seen. I remember thinking to myself that he looked just like a turkey…poor kid. He settled into the front seat with the “geeks”. I was an honor student and qualified to sit with the “geeks”, but chose to hang out with the “burnouts” because they were my protectors. I had some trouble with bullies in elementary school, and found that the “burnouts” were better allies when it came to defending the underdogs…namely, me.

So, this new kid rode the bus for a year before I found out he was my brother!

Circles of Life

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My life started in a small New England community back in the 60’s. The youngest of five and sent to a Catholic orphanage at only a few months old. Not long after I was placed in  foster care and taken in by my “real” parents, the only parents I remembered growing up with. Mom and Dad always made me feel special and completely loved. They both told me many times that I was “chosen”. When couples have biological children (they explained), they love them, but do not get to choose them. They “chose” me! How special is that!  I wondered more than a few times, especially in my teenage years, if they ever regretted that choice….I was stubborn, to say the least. I have two older “real” sisters who have been so patient with me over the years. They are 18 and 14 years older. Dad was 50 when I was born and Mom was 46. They adopted me when I was six. They are my heroes! I wouldn’t find out until many years later how fortunate I was to have been adopted by them.


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     Hi everyone! My name is Mary and this is my blog. Welcome!