NaNoWriMo 2014

It looks like it is that time of the year again, and I haven’t even decided on my novel for this year’s writing contest. I feel that I may end up doing this one by hand, while travelling at sixty miles per hour on a bus, as this year I have a full time job doing web development so this means I get less time for writing. Of course I could do it in the evening, but then I don’t get to burn my own eyes with how terrible my hand writing is. This year the word count will likely be close, but even if I don’t complete my 50,000 challenge, I will be still be grateful that I will end up with a large chunk of a new novel started.

See you in December, and expect a few words wars and sprints, they make writing quickly much more fun, and offer a chance to try ideas that may never have ended up being written otherwise.

EDIT: On a related note, I am disappointed to announce that I didn’t manage to get my first draft of my current medieval by the end of August (its now almost November). I also haven’t yet come up with a title yet. Good news though, is that I have finally got around to resolving the main plot changes to the climax of the story, which means that a few rewritten chapters and general editing and hopefully I will be on my way to completing this eternal project (and then the two sequels I totally haven’t definitely decided whether I’m writing or not). Either way, this is most definitely not a dead project and expect updates on it over the coming weeks (except for the next four weeks because that’s for NaNo).

A Sop for the Heart

Written by James Record in 2014.

My sop absorbs the chaos,
That boils from within,
To prevent the juices from spilling over,
And to retain the flavours of my heart.

The soup is warm enough,
To defrost any man’s frozen attitude,
The sauce is strong enough,
To bring out the best in the bitter most.

The steam cleanses the mind,
And the cool breath soothes the burning.
The smells bring back fond memories,
Of times when things were easier to digest.

The croutons float atop the liquid food,
As they are much lighter and carefree.
The treacherous undercurrents,
Stirs the sop through the denser creams.

The only sops to be found in this house,
Are the crusty breadsticks and doughy loaves.
You might mistake us for the dregs,
But that is all is left once crème has been consumed.

To acknowledge our limitations,
Takes a skin thicker than leather.
But one thing all diners should remember:
Our lives are not a free lunch.

Creative Commons Licence
A Sop for the Heart by James Record is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 3.0 Unported License.