NaNoWriMo 2012

This year, I've entered NaNoWriMo, the National Novel Writing Month. Hence the lack of posts for the last few days.

With NaNoWriMo, the objective is to write a 50,000 word novel in 30 days. To complete the task, you must write at least 1667 words per day, religiously,

I am actually ahead; just shy of 20,000 words so far. If I can get up to 20,000 words by tonight, I won't need to worry about picking up the story until Day 12, at that rate.

But I thought I'd share the following with you today: the blurb of my 2012 entry; a fantasy, The Gilded Saidara.


A sad, lonely corpse washes up in the Torc City Canal. The lead investigator, a Detective Ilona Camplin, soon finds herself up against strange and dark forces as the case takes on a supernatural angle, and circumstances force her to team up with Seren Mai of Anfar, one of the spell-slinging magicians of Astribel, who maintains a cover persona in town of a Gilded Saidara - a woman of substance and an independently wealthy courtesan.

Even as she delves into new, strange experiences of her own, coming to terms with aspects of her own personality that she only suspected about, Ilona realises that her chase for the killer, and Seren Mai's real reason for coming to Torc City all the way from the distant island of Anfar, are one and the same. With that realisation comes the further revelation that the Torc City Runner will have to put aside her phobia of magic - sihan, as it is known in the Tridominion - and work closely with the secretive sihandar Seren Mai to unmask the killer, before many more innocent lives are lost.

Fortunately, to aid them with their mission Ilona and Seren Mai quickly bring to bear the resources of the Torc City Runners, Ilona's brother Hardie Camplin, the mysterious, mischievous and troublesome visiting troupe of Anfari entertainers called The Family, and of course the magical might of Astribel, and in particular of the Preceptor of Astribel - reputed to be the most powerful sihandar alive.

But even with all these resources to bear, sometimes it is not the amount of a resource that counts as the knowledge of how to use it. And can Ilona and Seren Mai overcome their mutual antipathy to learn this lesson, before all is lost?


Ilona then found herself standing over Seren Mai's writing desk, peering down at the small pile of papers. A journal lay under the papers, a small book with a green marbled cover. Ilona picked it up and riffled through its contents, admiring the beautiful, neat Anfari calligraphy – so different from that of her father.

A piece of paper fell out of the journal. Ilona picked it up off the floorboards, and out of curiosity opened it. It bore a strange symbol, one she had never seen before. Folding it back, she slipped it into the journal at the first open page, and replaced the book on the desk, noting that symbol once again, appearing on another piece of paper which had been disturbed when Ilona had moved the journal.
Ilona's attention now turned towards the water pan, and the teapot, and a barrel beside the stove containing shreds of dark green tea leaves. She felt incredibly thirsty.

'While you're doing the tea,' said Seren Mai behind her, 'make enough for me, too.'

Ilona turned. Seren Mai had woken up, and was sitting upright in bed, watching her.

'What did we do last night?' Ilona asked, angrily. 'I don't lie abed with women.'

'Neither do I,' Seren Mai replied, smiling sweetly.

'Then what did we do last night?'

'We slept together,' Seren Mai replied.


'Slept, as in “stopped being awake,”' Seren Mai replied, grinning and getting up, letting the sheets fall from her body. 'We did not do anything that you would regret. Well, not today, perhaps.' She stood facing Ilona, one foot forward, the knee slightly bent. 'Later on in life, you may always wonder …'

'I'll put the water on,' Ilona said. She reached for her clothes. 'I'll get dressed first.'

Edit:  Now more than 20200 words, and 2300 words written just today.

So far.

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"And if we have unearned luck, now to scape the serpent's tongue, we will make amends ere long. Else the Puck a liar call ..."

So speak.