I wasn’t sure how much info to include, so I just kinda wrote all this. Feel free to skim or even skip any of it; do whatever you need to do to come up with some questions. Thanks in advance!

Genre: I’m not really sure, I think it’s contemporary fantasy? It takes place in modern times and has some magical elements, but the plot isn’t completely centered around the magical stuff.

Backstory: John Schilling and Daniel Bell were friends in college. John majored in English literature and Daniel majored in counseling psychology with a minor in English. They had a small business set up (against the rules, of course) in their dorm where they resold used books. One day, within a pile of donated books, they found a book that had nothing in it. It was just blank. Over the next couple of years, they discovered that the book had some pretty darn weird features. Under the right circumstances, it could alter people’s memories or create new ones altogether. But the most important power it had was that, under the right circumstances, the book could show a person what it thought the person's "purpose" in life was. John didn't care much about it, but Daniel saw the opportunities it could provide and opened a very successful counseling practice in Portland. John opened an indie bookshop in Seattle.

Exposition: Parker, Nolan, and Adria are working at the bookshop. They're on their lunch break when John is shot. Cassidy (John’s wife) tells Parker, Nolan, and Adria to move to Portland and tries (and mostly fails) to explain the above paragraph and why there's a group of people basically hunting them down.

Characters:

Parker Bell: Daniel's daughter, 17 y/o, grew up in Portland. Her mother died of breast cancer at age 8; she and her father moved to Seattle to help out with the bookshop when she was 9. Six months later, her father disappeared. John and Cassidy basically raised her. She became best friends with Adria and eventually dated Nolan, although they broke up soon after. She’s very introverted and can seem cold to other people. She often rides the ferry back and forth just for the feeling of being on the water - of listening to the wind whisper in her ear and of watching the sea foam disappear in the wake of the boat and of feeling the cold air bite her face. She rarely shows her emotions externally; she’ll never ever cry in public. She feels angry at her father because the illusion that he’s alive is easier to maintain than grieving, but on some level, she knows that she'll never see him again (or so she thinks...). Straight but usually messy black hair, brown eyes, average height and build but she tends to slouch.

Nolan Schilling: John and Cassidy's eldest child, 18 y/o, Adria’s older brother. He has always felt trapped working everyday at the bookshop. He cares a lot about his sister and will do anything for her. He loves learning and reading, especially about history. He was supposed to take over the bookshop when John retired, but he wanted go to college and explore the world; he wanted to create his own future. Now that he doesn't have a choice and is being forced to abandon his father's life work, he's surprised that he feels so conflicted about it. He also feels somewhat responsible for Parker and Adria, which just makes him feel trapped again even though he's no longer in Seattle. Dark blond hair, hazel eyes, tall.

Adria Schilling: John and Cassidy's youngest child, 15 y/o, Nolan's younger sister. She is very similar to her mother: kind and friendly. Although she is always warm to other people, she is very private when it comes to her own worries and anxieties. She feels happiest while she's sitting in front of a piano. She tends to avoid conflict wherever possible. The day of the shooting, she was in the backroom of the bookshop playing the piano. Somehow, she found herself holding the blank book. She keeps it to herself for a while but eventually shares it with Parker and Nolan and they discover, separately, what the book can do and what it has done to their parents. Curly blonde hair, blue eyes, shorter than average, looks younger than her age but acts older than it.

So I'm still working on my NaNoWriMo project, but I've gotten pretty unmotivated about it. I've seen a few different people do things like this so I thought I'd give it a try. I probably won't publish my novel for a while (or ever) so this would mostly be just to help me get to know my characters a little better and possibly for your enjoyment if you find such things entertaining. So, ask away! The weirder and more specific the question, the better. No yes or no questions please; I want to be able to write a sentences or two for each answer for each character (there's three characters I'm intending to do this for).

what happens when the dancers are anonymous /

when their faces are just faces

/ and all that’s left is the dance

empty shells of bodies / executing movements / none

of it is real / it doesn’t matter really

and you watch them

on a black scarred stage / under bright staring lights and

the eyes / of the strangers who just came to see a show

and they see a showing / not a sharing

their names don’t matter

point your feet / not your fingers

and all those spotlights are just spots

with light / no one cares about

your movement / they’re looking at them

because everything else is in darkness / your

shadow / your darkness in

shadow / you’re late / don’t be

early / you better be better / or the next

go-getter will be getting / you’ll be

going / go back / back up

if you turn around / or the stage

turns around / or the audience decides

to move to hear / the sound then you’re

going forward more / than before was moving

forward / and you’re always turning / always learning

which way is front and / background doesn’t matter /

matter doesn’t matter / in a place of art

stand by your place card / sheet stand

the eyes / the lights / the ears

all they taste is the moving executions

of foreign commands / demands things not

possible / impossible to translate

/ the language of our names / unspeakable /

all that / is left is / the dance

(in a group chat. no, scribbles is not my real name.)

Me: Okay y’all can’t let me come back here until I finish my work. No more texting for me. Don’t let me back.

Friend 1: Go away, SCRIBBLES

Friend 2: Hello scribbles

Friend 1: We don’t want Scribbles, and Scribbles doesn’t want us, we can all be lonely together.

Me (not done with my homework): That statement describes my entire life

Friend 3: true

Me: *can’t even tell if I’m being sarcastic in the title of this*

i’ve never been very good at the whole

complete-the-sentence

thing. see, i have this habit of answering

trivia in the form of a question

and yes, i know that my identity is anything but

trivial, but ‘jeopardy’ will always be a proper noun to me.

and maybe that’s not the most advantageous strategy

in figuring out this whole

life

thing, but 2020 is a-

familiar pen stroke.

and i know that someday, that

familiarity will be from my

memory

and not my

muscle memory

but for now, it’s half of a question mark

concluded by a horizontal wall

followed by an empty hole.

rinse and repeat and

i soothe my dry hands with a phrase

we will get through this

that’s really more of a question

will we get through this-

facts have always grounded me:

days are 37 minutes longer on mars

there are an estimated 100 billion stars in the galaxy

but now they’re dragging me down

as of today, there’s 55.6 million cases

and it’s funny, i used to think

every one of these bright lights in the night

were the sun but

now i see the constellations

and yet, somehow i still remember

the name of each phase of the moon.

as if-

as of late,

everything translates to

why do i matter?

see, i have this habit of answering

trivia in the form of a question,

and i’ve never been very good at the whole

fill-in-the-blank

thing or empty holes or comprehending things that are

defined by their use or lack

thereof, ’cause at the end of the day, all

there is are

swept-up tomorrows stuck in a yesterday

and we look at these pen strokes and ask the right questions

and wait for the day that we can be proud of our handwriting ’cause-

at the end of the day,

there’s the night.

and at the end of the night,

there’s the day and-

and if life is just a strange combination of action

and reaction

and we’re just tiny particles

bouncing off each barrier and wall

the only thing to do

is stand in the daylight and wait for the moon to catch up-

i matter because-

Contest theme: I matter because...

Artist statement: This poem is a culmination of my reflections on the various challenges of 2020, including things taken away that we previously took for granted and questions that we’ve never had to face before. I wanted to capture my trains of thought and how they lead me to a conclusion I never thought they would: external events obviously shape our lives, but in the end, what matters is getting though each day and putting forth our best efforts despite our circumstances or how insignificant we may seem in the face of huge numbers. Mattering is just a side effect.

Niara.

    You don't get to call me that anymore. It's ma'am to you.

    Yes ma'am.

    I did what I was told. Why are you here?

    Miss Niara, the Agency is asking for a favor.

    The Agency?

    They extend their deepest condolences for... for what happened.

    You're here on behalf of the Agency. 

    Yes ma'am. 

    Tell them no. And tell that insolent brother of yours to stop sending his sister for his apologies.

    Thias didn't send me. 

    Sure.

    He didn't. And I don't think he's going to apologize any time soon either.

He... sure. What does the Agency want?

    They want to arrest someone.

    Send a different agent.

    This person isn't easily arrested.

    What's the background?

    The Agency needs Thias and our father to work together on 0372.

    Good luck with that.

    They've made a deal. The only thing they have in common is that they both hate this person.

    I'm out. They said one more assignment and then-

    Well, it's more like our dad hates them and Thias is just scared of them at the moment-

    They said I'd be out if I finished-

    The person is you.

    What?

    I said-

    They expect me to just walk through their prison bars? For his peace of mind? After what he did to me?

    Niara, please.

    No.

    They won't need him anymore! You know how they deal with things! They'll kill Thias if you don't go. Please, Niara.

    Then I extend my deepest condolences for what's about to happen. And it's Miss Niara to you.    

Am I living in a memory?

Is my present just your past?

Am I the eyes of a yesterday me?

Is it too late to say not so fast?

'Cause every single step

is a step toward the next

and I can't ignore the footprints anymore.

'Cause every single mess

is a mess to regret-

what am I bleeding all these words out for?

If I told my story

who would listen to the lines

where the ink was splotched with tears

and I lied and said "I'm fine"?

If I told my story

who would read all the footnotes?

Would anybody take the time

to emphasize in their mind

the words that I italicized

in font size nine?

Sometimes I feel like skimming, swimming

through the pools of light dimming, slimming

and I can't help my pen from scribbling

what happens when you use lemonade to water all your lemons?

If I told my story

who would listen to the lines

where the ink was splotched with tears

and I lied and said "I'm fine"?

If I told my story

who would see all the footnotes?

Would anybody take the time

to emphasize in their mind

the words that I italicized

in font size nine?

There once was a girl named Sunny.

For her birthday, I could give no money.

No gifts, no tricks,

Just these limericks,

And hope that some ended up funny.

Now, I don’t know Sunny very well.

I don’t know how she looks, sounds, or smells.

Here’s what is clear,

(Yes, I see it from here)

In these next couple stanzas I’ll tell.

She writes such beautiful poetry.

She’s so talented, far better than me.

Each word, phrase, and line

Manages to shine

I’ve always looked up to Sunny.

She’s a amazingly kind person too.

She’ll speak out when someone needs to.

Every like and comment

Is sincerely meant;

She’s a ray of sunshine - her name is true.

To conclude, this is the only way.

There’s just one thing left to say.

Have lots of fun,

May your day be filled with sun,

And have a very happy birthday!

there’s something tragic in the existence of

ambition, in the knowledge that satisfaction

is an impossible goal. we search for meaning

and pretend not to notice the fact that none

of this really means anything- it’s a moment,

nothing more. and then another one, and

then one of these nothing more than a

moments is our last, and it comes down to

what, deep down, was there in the first place:

did we look that far into the abyss that is our

existence, or did we crawl toward that mirage

of a finish line they call happiness? and

did we ever take the time to look at all the

other somethings in the existence of ambition?

maybe meaning is hiding between the wrinkles

of this moment, or maybe it was wearing

ambition’s face all along. maybe lost last

moments are tragic, or maybe a better name for

the human condition is magic. maybe impossible

isn’t a reality we should accept any time soon, and

maybe if we pretend hard enough, our mirage

will be the birthplace for enough nothing more

than a moments to shape the next image of the world.