I’ve been doing NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) this year, attempting to write down a horrible, no-good first draft of an idea that’s been bouncing around in my head for years. 50,000 words in 30 days. Right now I’m at 15,059 words after 8 days, which puts me about one day ahead of the pace.
And yes, it is horrible. But I’m forcing myself to write. And in forcing myself to write, I discover things about my characters I hadn’t known, and I uncover some gems that I didn’t know existed. These gems will take some polishing in the future. For now, however, they let me know I’m at least on some sort of track, and maybe I accidentally wander onto the right one every once and a while.
Below is a rough excerpt from what I’m working on, the end of the first chapter of a book entitled Inheritance of the 6th Day.
All night, I stole glances at my parents as they celebrated my life. Really celebrated, for the first time. Father drinking and singing, his cheeks red from both. Mother leaning back in a large cushioned chair, her pregnant belly sticking out, hands resting on top. Those hands covered the new hope of the Five Realms. A possible new life for the dead river, Rhunavar. And, I was just realizing, a new life for my family in more ways than one. A new life for me. The one I should have had all along, as a princess of Talathia.
It was the best night of my life.
I think back to that night often, the image of my mother sitting in quiet happiness while surrounded by boisterous joy. Framed by people who were celebrating the life of her daughter, and in many ways also celebrating the new life growing inside of her. It is my last true memory of her.
After another cycle of the moon, she would be dead. And that new life would be snuffed out.