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I have not been keeping up my resolve to hold myself accountable during NaNoWriMo–hitherto, only one update made it to Smashwords.  Apologies!

My problem is that I have trouble writing linearly.  

Normally, this is not a problem.  It’s just how I work–I am much more efficient focusing on things for short bursts, then coming back to them with fresh eyes after a short burst on something else.

This is not particularly useful strategy for NaNoWriMo.

This week, I’ve worked on five or six chapters simultaneously (well, in turn–not exactly simultaneously.  If only I had multiple monitors, though….)  Nitpicking at the almost-done ones, adding to the half-done ones, jotting quick notes on the newest ones.

But while everyone has their own NaNo style and writing un-linearly is not against the true NaNoWriMo spirit, nitpicking most certainly is.

With that spirit in mind, I’ve moved on from the chapters I was nitpicking at, put another few thousand words up on Smashwords, and resolved to do so more frequently in the remaining 13 days.



Here’s a bit of the new part:


Harper wandered.  Zara wandered beside him, but she had been mostly silent, letting him come to terms with their temporary home in his own time.  He was grateful for the presence and the space.

One foot stepped in front of the other, and then the other moved in front of it.  And the process repeated until he was somewhere else, and then somewhere else and then somewhere else.  His eyes drifted over the black floors and windowless corridors.

He missed the blue fields of his Sky that were now far behind.

Or that were never there in the first place.           

His mind was clearer after the… night’s… rest.  He still had difficulty with the notion that there was night and day up here.  But his body still demanded its cycles.  Waking up this… morning… he’d felt like he did every morning when he woke up.  Until he felt the cold floor beneath his feet.

He’d passed one or two windows but drew away quickly before he could look too far out.

Back home, the Sky changed; this was not unknown to him.  It was dark, it was light, Sometimes it was stained with the white splotches of clouds.  In the past, so the stories said, it would grey over entirely before a rain storm.  But it was always there.

Is She invisible or absent?

His feet walked.  But Harper felt like the solid metal under his feet had disappeared.  The walls and floor hummed around him, quivering with the well-insulated thrum of the engines.  Harper did not like it.  Unlike the Sky, the ground beneath his feet had always been virtually invisible.  It was horrid, unfeeling, unyielding, the enemy of the farmer.  It did not give what was needed–except when the Sky so decreed to rain upon it.  The sky was kind and blue and beautiful.  Harpers eyes had always looked up, not down.

Now he looked down as he walked, but he did not see the surface he walked on.  One foot stepped down upon it; then the other followed; then the first again.

Here, I still see ground.  Metal, maybe, and of human construct, but a surface which supports me.  But here there is no Sky.  Where?  Where is She?

So he walked, and so he thought, and did not know how far his walking had taken him, and Zara silently by his side, from their beds through the humming corridors.

After a while he realized it was not only the ship that was humming.  Other sounds cooed beneath the ship’s melody.  One foot stepped in front of the other, then stopped.  From down a corridor, voices rose, voices without words, music between a song and a wail.

Waaooo–waa–ooo.  Ohhhh-ohhhhh-iioo…  More

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