The ProjectProject CoNarrative is an ongoing experiment in multimedia and collaborative storytelling in which two award-winning authors (myself and Luke T. Harrington) tried our hands at writing a story together, improv-style, over the course of twelve months—from October 2019-October 2020. You can read the completed draft of the novel for free on our website! There are pirates and ghosts, and also centaurs for some reason.
Now we are in the process of revising, editing, rewriting, polishing... all the fun stuff that goes into preparing the novel for consumption (for reals consumption). This will take us some months, no doubt, but it remains, as always, a collaborative project! Eventually the final version of the book will be ready for sale. Stay tuned to our website for updates on the project. The Websitehttps://www.projectconarrative.com/ is the official website of Project CoNarrative where you can find and read the chapters of our book. From October 2019 through October 2020, they were posted on the 15th and 30th of every month.
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The Podcast
The Project CoNarrative Podcast was available to our "Deck Cadet" patrons and above, but you can listen here to the inaugural episode—in which Luke and I discussed how we know each other, how we decided to work together, and how Project CoNarrative started off with a pirate theme. (And more!)
The StorySunflower Smith-Jones and Captain Doug should never have ended up on an adventure together, but when she lies her way into a summer sailing program for affluenza’d neophytes, she's practically asking for trouble. Doug is tired of dealing with spoiled teenagers on his sailing vessel summer after summer, but he's even more tired of watching them die and being helpless to do anything about it. He just can't quit the sea, though, because one of those long-dead teenagers is his baby brother—and curses have a way of staying in the family.
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Chapter 1: Hitchhiking is the New Uber
by Luke T. Harrington
I’m driving the road that comes up from the coast when she flags me down.
She looks like she was dressed for what should have been the weather. She’s got one of those huge, puffy coats, but it’s tied around her waist, a makeshift attempt to deal with the unseasonable warmth, or the unexpectedly long and difficult hike, take your pick. She’s got an enormous duffel bag that’s almost dragging her down to the ground, a ponytail pulled through the back of her Cardinals ballcap, a new-but-dogeared paperback rolled up in her hand. Despite her frustration, she looks oppressively bubbly.
I pull over. I mean, I’m not a monster. She’s stupid for hitchhiking, but I’m not about to leave a kid trudging through the mud and the leaves on the side of the road. She’s surprised I actually did it, surprised enough that she almost slips on the leaves, almost lands on her ass in the mud. I’m about to get out and open a door for her, but she’s already climbing into the front of the car with me, and now she’s trying to shove her giant bag into the back seat through the tiny gap.
“Do you—are you really—”
“No, I got it,” she says, obviously not getting it.
“Let me just—” I say, mouth full of canvas and zipper. I grab the bag from her hands, climb out of the car, and throw it in the back seat through the rear door, the way God intended. I’m not mad, but now I’m worried I’ve given her that impression. The bag, by the way, weighs about as much as she probably does, and I’m wondering how she was walking upright at all. I shake my head, climb back in, put the car in drive. It smells like teen girl sweat in here now, which I’m mildly uncomfortable with.
“So you’re headed—”
“You know O.C.E.A.N.?” she says. “The Oceanographic Corporation for the Education of Affluenza’d Neophytes? They’re, like, a program for high school kids where you go to sea and work on a ship, and—”
I laugh at her, which I shouldn’t. It feels like kicking a sack full of puppies. “Yeah,” I say. “I know it.”
Read the rest of Chapter One HERE...
I’m driving the road that comes up from the coast when she flags me down.
She looks like she was dressed for what should have been the weather. She’s got one of those huge, puffy coats, but it’s tied around her waist, a makeshift attempt to deal with the unseasonable warmth, or the unexpectedly long and difficult hike, take your pick. She’s got an enormous duffel bag that’s almost dragging her down to the ground, a ponytail pulled through the back of her Cardinals ballcap, a new-but-dogeared paperback rolled up in her hand. Despite her frustration, she looks oppressively bubbly.
I pull over. I mean, I’m not a monster. She’s stupid for hitchhiking, but I’m not about to leave a kid trudging through the mud and the leaves on the side of the road. She’s surprised I actually did it, surprised enough that she almost slips on the leaves, almost lands on her ass in the mud. I’m about to get out and open a door for her, but she’s already climbing into the front of the car with me, and now she’s trying to shove her giant bag into the back seat through the tiny gap.
“Do you—are you really—”
“No, I got it,” she says, obviously not getting it.
“Let me just—” I say, mouth full of canvas and zipper. I grab the bag from her hands, climb out of the car, and throw it in the back seat through the rear door, the way God intended. I’m not mad, but now I’m worried I’ve given her that impression. The bag, by the way, weighs about as much as she probably does, and I’m wondering how she was walking upright at all. I shake my head, climb back in, put the car in drive. It smells like teen girl sweat in here now, which I’m mildly uncomfortable with.
“So you’re headed—”
“You know O.C.E.A.N.?” she says. “The Oceanographic Corporation for the Education of Affluenza’d Neophytes? They’re, like, a program for high school kids where you go to sea and work on a ship, and—”
I laugh at her, which I shouldn’t. It feels like kicking a sack full of puppies. “Yeah,” I say. “I know it.”
Read the rest of Chapter One HERE...