'Twas the night before NaNo, when all through the house
Not a keyboard was typing, not a click of a mouse.
The stickers were hung by the writer with care,
In Hopes that a Novel, soon would be there.
The Editors were nestled, all snug in their beds,
While visions of red pens, danced in their heads.
with Chris Baty in his viking hat and I in my shirt,
All the wrimo's world wide, sat waiting to work.
When out on the lawn, there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my writing spot, to see what was the matter.
Away to the window, I flew like a flash,
Tore open the window, threw up the sash.
The moon was big, with a very bright glow
and it looked like a screen that had something to show.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a story and eight characters.
With a little plot arc, so lively and round,
I knew in a moment, "My Novel - I've found!"
More rapid then eagles the chapters they came
and the story whistled and shouted and called things by name,
"Now characters, Now plot arcs, now storylines and more,
"On conflict, On turmoil, On plot twists galore.
To the top of the plot line, to November's 50 K
Now write away, write away, write away today."
As dead words before the wild month fly,
When they meet with a Muse and mount to the sky
So up to my desk top these coursers, they flew
with a sleigh full of ideas, and my muse too.
And then in a twinkling I heard on my desk
The smattering of words, taking one last rest.
As I drew in my hand and was turning around
Appeared, did my muse, in one single bound.
It was dressed in all words, from it's head to it's foot
and it's clothes were all tarnished with erasure gook.
It's bundle of stories were flung on it's back
And it looked like Chris Baty - What's up with that?
It's eyes how they shimmered, It's dimples how scary,
It's cheeks were all blustery, it's smile so merry.
It's droll little mouth was drawn up like an "oh"
And not a beard on it's chin, that'd be freaky, ya know?
The stump of a pencil it held tight in it's teeth,
And punctuation encircled it it's head like a wreath.
It had a bright face and a round cuppa coffee
That shook when it laughed, without ever sloshing.
It was awkward and lumpy, a right crazy old elf
And I laughed when I saw it, inspite of myself.
A wink of Its eye and a twist of Its head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.
It spoke not a word, but went straight to my desk
And It looked at my blank page then said, "Surely you Jest."
Laying its fingers aside of my keys, It winked at me once,
And slid inward with ease.
It sprang on my screen, to the words it gave whistle
and away they all flew to it, like the down of a thistle
But I heard it exclaim, err it faded into the night
"Happy NaNo to all, tonight you shall write!"
- C.A. Dubois October 31, 2009
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52,312 / 50,000
Nov 5, 2009 - 01 49
Now there IS a fantasy!
My muse did visit me yesterday and she is full of surprises. I've been writing double each day in anticipation of having to leave town [without a computer], so I did over 15,000 words in four days - a big record for me-and I found that even more interesting things happened with this year's novel due to speedier writing. My muse switched genres on me, but does it matter? Onward with quantity!
My 102 year old Dad who was in a coma the night of our meeting in Chapel Hill died yesterday and I am off for a drive to New York with my Chihuahua for the service; paper, pen and little digital recorder in hand. My novel-writing sister, who is in Denver, but has us as her secondary region, will meet me in Buffalo. We may just have a write-in...
Happy writing to you - and may all your muses be friendly and verbose.
----------Wheresoever you go, go with all your heart.
39,142 / 50,000
Nov 5, 2009 - 15 16
Aww, I'm so sorry to hear about your Dad. Please let us know if we can do anything to help. :(
I hope you have a safe trip, and that your writing goes well despite the difficulties.