So I’ve decided to give NaNoWriMo a go this year. I first heard about it three years ago, but every November since has made it impossible to participate. This year, I’ve got some things going on, and I don’t think I have much of a chance of reaching 50,000 words. Even so, I think it’s worth doing if it gets me writing again, and even if I reach half that number I’ll be happy.
I debated on it for a while, and I decided to post my (hopefully) daily progress here. This blog is intended to be a look at works in progress, raw and unedited, and things that I’m not sure what to do with yet. This is definitely both.
I’m not entirely sure where this is going yet, but my goal is just to enjoy the ride. I always enjoy feedback, but in the spirit of NaNoWriMo, none of this will be edited until after the end of the month. That is, assuming I make it there!
Since I didn’t get to write anything yesterday, this is my progress for days 1 and 2. I’ve already done some more today, and you’ll be seeing it soon. Anyway, I hope you get some enjoyment out of this!
6 [TK-MONTH], Anno Ordinis 1093
My Dearest M——,
I hope these words reach you with as much joy and excitement as that with which they leave my pen. Indeed, I write in such a frenzied hand that I fear you will not be able to read them, such is my hast in eagerness to set down that which I have to say. There, a deep calming breath and a steaming mug of the Licorice Tea that I love so has calmed my excited tremors and steadied my hand. Ah, a marked improvement already! Now, as you are no doubt wondering what has worked me into such a state, perhaps I should begin where last I left off.
No doubt you will recall that, in my last missive, I told you how I had been chosen to accompany the Proctor on his sabbatical journey to Angelorum, the homeworld of our Chapter—and, indeed, our entire Order. After the great lengths to which I went in that previous letter to expound the loathing with which I viewed this assignment, the tedium of the long months in Fuguespace, the unbearable doldrums of such a ruined—if sanctified—backwater, you must be quite perplexed at the tone which I here adopt; indeed, my change of heart surprises none so much as it does me. Yet, I think, there is quite an excellent reason for it, which, if you’ll allow me to proceed in due course, shall become clear to you, my dearest one.