Writing Month

November, apparently, is the month where all aspiring authors come together and make a point to write down crap. Yes, all the characters and plot lines that have been swirling around in their heard all year without being released onto the blessed blank page get a place to rest as all of us come together and admit that they do indeed have faults. The goal is words per day, not quality per day; as is the normal obsession of an author. I unfortunately refuse to admit that I have any such nonsense that could passably come from my nimble fingers. "Don't Ever Change" came from someone else...

Ah but wait! What about me? All I have done is experience the overthrow of an evil world in the sky! My best friend saw his friends and family kill each other only because they realized that grass was real! But I understand. You don't want to write about us because we are Sci-Fi. You would have to study how a world could be in the sky and how clones could be made to be born at 30 years old or how they could be placed on a conveyor belt with new memories of personalities and lives that never happened. The bubble boy isn't important enough to you to even be talked about, what a historian of fiction you turned out to be...

I'm not going to complain, she can write about what she chooses. Everyone suffers, everyone has problems. Personally I would rather that she not talk about mine to begin with. She would tell my story in a forgiving manner. Infidelity should never be forgiven, even if I never really did do anything. She'd be asking me all these questions, difficult to answer. I'm in a polygamist colony, not a university, all of her questions would help her to plea the case that I found love with him. I am not learned enough to stop her. But the husband must not be forgotten that way...

Pity? She'll never show pity. All she ever did was write about the people I love dieing! I never once tried to stop it either! No, it wasn't disease and NO it wasn't beyond my control. I couldn't turn him in! I would never turn him in! And it's all because of my pride, the fact that he gave me something real to live off of. Real adventure real drama real kisses. But the closer I got to him the closer I dragged all those around me into danger, into death. She exposes me for who I truly am, but will never finish my story and write to the world who he is...

Adventure, yeah she really does like to think about you all and your adventures. Mine she began to tell with honor, even with pride it seemed. I'm not a good King, I'm not even a great king, nor am I even a real king. But I protect my people, I love them and I will make sure that they are safe from danger even without their consent. In my tale we all discovered joy, individual power and an unquenchable lust for love. She had begun to tell my tale but it seems no one will ever know how it ends...

Sorry about that. Sometimes Characters just escape. Maybe writing month isn't such a bad idea after all...