Just uploaded the newest chapter and a half of Skyland to Smashwords!
DAY 3 Word Count: 3336*
This puts me about one day behind. But since this year, for me, is about balancing speed with quality, I don’t think that’s too bad. I’ll catch up!
Here’s the start of the new bit if you’re curious:
The Chair Maker
The shape of the chair didn’t matter. Nothing whatsoever mattered about the chair, except for the fact that it was empty. It was empty and large and glossy with a thick varnish that amplified the red of the wood and a deep seat that looked like it had sat under too many asses but really had been made that way from the beginning. But none of its qualities made the slightest difference to its functionality.
Nothing about the chair served any purpose.
A stool served to rest a tired body on. A stool kept the knees from wearing out squatting and the pants from dirtying themselves on dirt floors and the legs from getting sore with standing. But a chair was just a stool that somebody decided to make fancy.
At least, that’s what the chair maker thought. The chair maker would rather rest on a bed if he were too tired to hold himself up. He would rather make stools that served the purpose of resting rather than the purpose of fanciness. He would rather forget about chairs entirely, if only he didn’t need the currency the sales offered. Otherwise a stool would have done fine for sitting and for making a living.
Even a plain chair could fetch 100,000 suns, enough to buy ten years of kale half a ton of the best fertilizer to grow it. Not that the chair maker had bought much kale or fertilizer with his earnings. He invested it back in the wood–bought dearly from the scavengers who traveled hundreds of miles just to get an armful of twigs. And in ten years, he hoped–everybody hoped–that there would be something more worth buying than kale and that fertilizer would be cheap.
And there would be no more chairs.
In ten years time, when some quick-growth trees had grown back and chairs weren’t so hard to come by then the useless things wouldn’t be the symbol of wealth and extravagance. The price would fall, of course. But the chair maker didn’t think he would mind. It would be a fair trade to have a secure future for his business. And a living planet.
And then he could stop making chairs. Then he could return to the stools for sitting and walking sticks for leaning and beds for resting that he’d learned his craft on nearly a century before. More…
*The Smashwords copy is at 8376, but for the purposes of NaNo I’m only counting new words written in November. Being a rebel, I may not be keeping the rules to the letter, but I am trying to keep to their spirit.