Spontaneous Derivation

Got 154 words into Articles of Retransmission. I’m bushwhacked. I will consider this final number for tonight and this week’s GTD.

The first few words of Articles:

The first thing I clearly remembered was seeing a man sitting on the end of my bed. He was dressed formally, but in a very old style. Like period clothing, but I couldn’t put my finger on the period.

“Good, good. You’re coming around,” he said. He sounded a little bit urgent, his voice sounded muffled and soft.

“Who are you?” I said. My head felt stuffed with cotton, and I felt as though I had always been lying here, and had no prior existence to the bed, the monitors floating above me, the man.

He put a finger to his lips and whispered, “We need to get out of here.”

I had no idea where “here” was, or what he meant by it.

“Why?” I asked.

“Because,” he said, stealing a look out the door, “I think they’re going to kill you.”

Graph, minus Articles so far! Because my brain is fried, hehehe.

I think I’ll stop updating my NaNoWriMo page. I don’t know how to fit two works into it. :)

Will write some musing thoughts on my experience in the last 11 days.

The first of multiple drafts of my first book, A Change in the Weather, has been finished.

One of the first lines of the book is this:

The moral quandary still mazes me, and so in a search for personal clarity on these matters, I am committing to personal archive the events of that night, and all of the rest that followed.

The very last line in the book is this:

END ARCHIVE

Heh. Okay, I’ll stop being silly.

The last meaningful line in the book is this quote from Marcel Proust:

A change in the weather is sufficient to recreate the world and ourselves.

I’m going to go out and eat some dinner, then return and start Articles of Retransmission.

In Cath Smith’s recent blog entry, she has asked if the various Great Tea Debaclers had handwriting samples to show off.

I decided, what the hey. My handwriting is just printing, but it’s still a bit unreadable. Also this is my tiny writing that I put on index cards as I construct temporary outlines to write to.

Here it is in all its questionable glory, a single index card (for larger sample click on image):

This is also the answer to “How can you write 2k an hour?” Only through spending half an hour forming up these little notes, I suppose. Each relatively full index card usually expands to anywhere from a little over 1k to a little over 2k, averaging a little under 2k each.