NaNoWriMo 2014: The Site Is Live!

lettersandlight:

NaNoWriMo 2014 is finally live and ready for your novel! We are heart-stoppingly excited, and so thankful that you’ve been patient with us this year. As participant Kris Bower said, “NaNoWriMo always helps to bring the fun back.” So, in case you weren’t sure, it’s true! The fun is back!

You have stories to tell. And like the very best of trusty sidekicks, we’ve been preparing all year to help you tell those tales. Here are just a few things we’ve gotten ready for you:

Read More

If you didn’t already know, November is National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo), and lettersandlight hosts a great way for you to stop making excuses for yourself, put pen to paper (or fingers to keyboard), and finally fulfill out your dream of authoring a full-length novel. Go check them out!

Mourning

I’m not sure what this is, exactly, or what it means. It just sounded good so I cranked it out. To the rhythm of Sam Smith’s “I’m Not The Only One.”

***

The train still rumbles into town
Without another soul
And Santa Claus still comes around
With one less piece of coal.

I’ll carry on without you, love,
Alone, with growing pain
But honestly I’ve had enough
Of weeping in the rain.


Chorus:

The days I tremble
I raise my head and mumble your name
Dear friends, I ask: assemble
And help me overcome my shame.

Never underestimate the temper of a lone wolf.” the voice in the shadow of the oak said, “For one howl can help a pack gather.

J Grainger (via scathlocke)

A Prayer to Time

I’ve asked so much of you

and cursed at my misfortunes

without your vision.

But I have one request

I know is well founded.

One day

you’ll be rid of my friend

and her life will go with you

to your palace of dreams

and leave me alone with her,

alone without her,

alone.

My eyes will cloud up

and shower onto her hands,

drops softening the earth below

as she disappears into the dark.

I know you won’t stop for me

or any other pained soul, 

but please,

don’t take her soon 

or leave me to wander

for another like her.

Even I, so small and helpless,

can see what you have built into her:

she is the only one of her kind

that I will ever know

and love

and cherish

in my fleeting existence.

So think me selfish

and mock at my desires

through torture and laughter,

but spare me

my greatest treasure

which I shall never quantify

but with emotion.

Goodnight, My Soldier.

I need to write a six to eight page essay

about the ethics of choices

in a video game.

I’m no gamer.

I prefer to live in the real world

and feel crushing emotions,

longing for far-away friends,

exhaustion I only have myself to blame for.

I gaze at the blank page

and the cursor

blinking

there, then gone, then back,

waiting,

expecting me to know what words to write,

when all that occupies my mind

is the memory

of a feeling

I’ve never had:

holding her close,

feeling her heart beat and lungs breathe

as we slowly sway to the sole instrument

that quiets the room with music.

Two hours remain in the day

that will lead to so many others

without her

or anyone

but the blinking cursor

and the six to eight pages

and the emptiness of the white pages

I must litter with words

in order to carry on.