Read & feedback as I write a novel: Imperception – Chapter 1

About five years ago I started writing a novel. I wrote over 50,000 words of unedited text in a month as I’d challenged myself to do ‘NANOWRIMO‘ during my lunch breaks. It’s been sat, unfinished for a very long time. I would really like to finish it. Just because. So I thought that maybe you’d be kind enough to help me; because I’m far better at doing things when I share them. It is written in very short chapters, and I thought that if I shared a chapter a day perhaps you’d read along as I write it and help me to make it better and just encourage me to Get It Done.

Perhaps you’ll leave comments with your questions, your ideas or your friendly constructive criticism and edits as whilst I love to write, I am dyslexic and have to work hard at it.

It’s called ‘Imperception’ and it’s about the intersection of the lives of two women whose initial assumptions about each other prove to be wrong. There are themes of abuse, depression and suicide – it was written at a time in my own life when I was actively suicidal. So if you’re looking for a light read this might not be it!

I’ll aim to edit and share a chapter a day… Here’s chapter 1… *takes a deep breath*

[View all chapters shared so far here]

Chapter 1: Dee

It wasn’t likely to go down in history as a profound and meaningful suicide note, but it said everything she needed to say.  Nothing more, nothing less. 

[Picture of note]

I’m so sorry…

Dee x

[End picture]

She wasn’t really sure who she was writing it for.  Who would even be interested enough to read it?  At least that was one benefit of keeping it short she supposed, she’d waste less of people’s time in death.  It was unlikely anyone would even realise she was missing if she just crawled off and died somewhere quietly – but that wasn’t the plan.  The mess and the almighty inconvenience she’d cause by ending her life under the wheels of the 17:35 train to Teddington would guarantee, if nothing else, that her death would be noted.  She worried, momentarily about the journeys she would delay; parents who’d be late home for bath time, love’s young dream who might be late for a date, the young exec trying to make it on time for a final appointment of the day, but she let the thought pass her by.  It had to be this train, to hell with people’s schedules.  This train had caused her more than enough inconvenience the past three years as she replayed the-day-things-changed over and over in her mind.  

Every day she waited for the 17:35 to Teddington.  Every day she thought about jumping under it.  Every day, she didn’t.  But today would be different, today she was ready.  She had written her note.  She was committed.  

This ended now.  

She picked up her handbag with purpose and left the house quickly, the blue door slamming loudly behind her.  For the very last time.