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| This is just to let you know that I do get around to writing some stuff for NaNoWriMo below. Image by Greg Bayles, remixed from Wikimedia Commons |
They say NaNoWriMo is to get you writing. So, if I don't want to write my novel on day 2, does that mean I fail? Or is the whole purpose of this just to get me writing in general?
I slept in later than I ever have before today. I think it might have had something to do with staying up until some ungodly hour to make sure I got in my first NaNoWriMo post so that I wouldn't have a bad precedent, but I'm thinking I might have been better off just wriitng in the morning instead... if not for the dream... I don't usually dream, but when I do, it's usually either really profound and changes my life or is unintelligible until some future event and then kind of reminds me where I'm supposed to be going. I don't have just dreamy dreams. They're not happy. But last night, I found myself in a movie--some movie that I saw a long time ago--and for those few minutes I was happier than I have been in a long, long time. That's not to say that I'm not generally happy, but in that moment--I don't know what it was--I was just carefree and happy, and I felt like I had all of the answers to the questions that have vexed me this last while. Life just made sense, and I thought to myself, "Now, when I wake up, I can just go watch the movie, and I'll understand in real life, and I can be happy there, too."
I woke up, and I remembered the happiness, and I remembered the faces, but I couldn't remember the name of the movie nor of the actors; I can't remember what happened or even what the movie was about. I can't remember practically anything except that there was a place where I didn't worry anymore. I spent the last half hour of a 'squandered' morning frantically searching through lists of inspirational movies online but to no avail. I told my roommate about it all, and he said, simply enough, "You don't need the movie. It seems to me that if you were happy in the dream, then the answers are inside of you." I looked at him a little bit dumbfounded. "You can be happy just the way you are."
Do you think the nightingale scorns his own song? Does he wish himself a lark? Or is his moonlight sonata his salvation, too? I keep thinking that somehow, somewhere, in someone or something, I'll find that missing piece of the puzzle. I tear through books on weekends; I've worn out a mouse clicking through links to find the panacea to my problems. But maybe all the while the miss
ing piece was right before me, was right inside me, and maybe this moment is the one where I can at last say, "I know."
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The boy's eyes crinkled with an impish grin as he turned, the leather pouch in hand, and dashed off in the same direction they [Jonah and Mara] had come from. "Mara, the technis sphere!" Jonah shouted. He took off in close pursuit after the Sigan boy, and Mara, turning to follow, was soon at his side, their feet pounding in a breathless unison against the dusty road.
"He's headed back towards the marketplace," she exclaimed. "If we don't catch him before then, there's no way we'll be able to tail him through the stalls." The pair sailed along the narrow alleys, jagged shadows flitting wildly along the rammed earth houses on either side. Flurries of dust erupted at each frantic turn, and still the thief managed to stay well out of their reach. He was young, though, light on his feet and with legs long and slender like those of a gazelle. Jonah and Mara fought for breath with every step yet still the boy raced on ahead of them, winding ever deeper into the lower city and weaving deftly through the streams of market-goers as they trickled from the city's heart. He was Yeyah's bone needle through the kaleidoscope strands of the city streets.
Into market. Still pursuing. Chickens squawking as they pass. Merchants yelling at them.Cabbages tumbling to the ground.
Jonah: "He could have gotten away by now if he wanted to. He's leading us in circles, trying to confuse us."
Still chasing
Mara: "He's been cutting closer and closer to the western archway. He's probably getting ready to make his escape, but we can cut him off if we split up. I'll follow him--you turn at the next stall and we'll corner him near the animal pens just this side of the arch."
Corner him. Backing toward the dead end slowly, still grinning.
Takes off at a run toward the wall (hurls something [rift shard] at the wall?) and a glimmer appears on the wall's surface, like the air above the road on a hot summer's day--the light shimmering, bending in wild panegyrics. Boy dives into the wall and disappears into it.
End chapter.
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[Jabul is the saffron merchant in Kaios. Warns them, "There are strange things going on in the city. Keep your head down and your eyes shut, and you'll be alright." Red fingers. Later, in Shibboleth, run-in with one of the conspirators/profiteers. Mara noticed that his fingers are red. "Saffron."]
I figure you can never fail if you just keep trying...
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