The Night Before NaNo

For an inaugural post to a NaNo blog, I reckon you really can’t get more appropriate than this. Folk of the Gippsland Region, and of course around the world, are about to embark on the crazy fun journey of writing a 50,000 word novel on 30 days.

As we are sooo close to starting (a little over 12 hours as I write this), I thought I’d share a poem written by Cylithria (eensybeensyspider) ML for USA::Michigan::Midland

'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 slew 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!"

Happy Writing Everyone!

Krys (Caemlyn)

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