Legends of Wrimonia

Legends of Wrimonia, Part Three: The Knights of NaNoWriMo

On Mia’s way out of the All-Ages Coffee House she ran into a group of people she hand’t encountered before, and what a motley group they were. They all wore helmets and carried coconuts, and most of them were grooming animals of all sorts, from horses to unicorns to dragons. One of them was even polishing a motorcycle. Mia wondered whether Wrimonia carried an insurance policy against dragons. What if the dragon burned everything in the place? Would Wrimonia cover the damage, or would the Wrimonia in charge of the dragon be responsible? Did the Wrimo with the motorcycle yield to walking Wrimos? Guess they didn’t need to use WrimoRails…

One of the Wrimos, who was riding a beautifully groomed horse, carried a shield that said KNIGHTS OF NANOWRIMO. Another juggled a couple of coconuts. Mia could make out the humming of a Coldplay song… but which one? Mia couldn’t figure it out. She never was a big Coldplay fan after Viva La Vida.

“Welcome!” the Wrimo (Knight?) carrying the shield said, her horse galloping toward Mia. “Would you like to become a Knight of NaNoWriMo?”

Mia looked at this Wrimo’s nametag. Lady Pendragon. Lady Pendragon? A knight? Surely she and her cohorts would know all about quests! With a name like that…

“What does it mean to become a Knight?” Mia asked. “I have a novel to write in November. I’m not sure I can commit to being a Knight too.” Mia paused. “And actually, wouldn’t I be a Knightress because I’m a girl?”

“Being a Knight of NaNoWriMo transcends gender,” Lady Pendragon explained as she dismounted her horse. “Anyone can be a Knight of NaNoWriMo. All you need to be able to do is take on the challenge of writing a novel in November, choosing a mount, and CHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGE.”

Everyone in the circle of Knights yelled that last part.

“Okay, so if I join I’d be a Knight,” Mia said. “Then what? Do I gallop around with you all the time and chaaaaaaaaaaarge? When would we get our novels written? Would all fifty thousand words consist of chaaaaaaaaaaaaarge? Once upon a chaaaaaaaaaaaarge there was a chaaaaaaaaaaaarge who chaaaaaaaaaaarge.”

“Of course not.” Another Knight, this one wearing a top hat, chimed into the conversation at this point as she jumped off her mount. “Hi. I’m rosiedoodle. I see you’ve found the Knights.”

“I guess I have. But I don’t get the point.”

“Sit down. Let us tell you a story.” Lady Pendragon began. “Once upon a time, I believe in 2009–”

“That was my first year!” Mia interrupted.

“Cool!” Lady Pendragon said. “We were quite small back then, but we banded together because we needed a final push and a group of motivated and encouraging Wrimos to get each other across the finish line of fifty thousand words. And with our silly mounts, coconuts, and ability to chaaaaaaaaaarge, a lot of us made it across the finish line. Now we get back together every year, and regardless of word count goal, we keep chaaaaaaaaaaaarging from the very beginning, from our daily word count to the monthly ones.”

“Then why didn’t I see you during my first year?” Mia asked. “I could have used you then. I was terribly behind.”

“We were really small back then,” Lady Pendragon replied. “I can’t remember what year it was now, but we were featured on the Wrimonia Procrastination Station as a featured discussion. We’ve only grown since then.”

“So you’re Knights,” Mia said. “Do you go on quests and stuff too?”

“Only to reach word count goals,” rosiedoodle said. “But individual Knights are available for questing. Quests are fun! Ever been on the Post All The Posts quest?”

“Not really.”

“You should try it sometime,” Lady Pendragon cut in. “I don’t recommend it as a November quest, though. Cuts way too much into noveling time. Well, unless you’re sushimustwrite.” Lady Pendragon petted her horse.

“Didn’t she just leave this thread?” rosiedoodle asked. She looked around.

“Speaking of quests, you might be able to help me with mine,” Mia cut in. When Lady Pendragon and rosiedoodle looked confused, Mia added, “You’re Knights! You can do anything! Right?”

“There are some secrets of Wrimonia that have yet to be truly revealed,” Lady Pendragon added. “The Inspiration Station. Noveling Nirvana.”

“But you know about them!” Mia exclaimed. “Surely you know something about them.”

“We know almost as much as you do, Mia,” rosiedoodle said. “You know how some legends are passed down from one generation to the next with little indication of whether that thing is true or not? Same way with these legends. We don’t know how they started. They might be as old as NaNo itself. For all we know Chris Baty started them himself to keep us wondering, and now he’s gone and we’ll never know whether or not they’re true. We can’t go ask him anymore.”

“But wouldn’t a staff member know?” Lady Pendragon interrupted.

“They might not know the entire story,” rosiedoodle replied. “Unless they got the answer from Chris Baty himself.”

“Listen, I want to get the answer from Chris Baty himself,” Mia said. “I’m trying to find him and no one knows where he is. I asked at Wrimo Hall and Sarah Mackey didn’t know anything. And if the staff don’t know, who would know?”

“You need the help of a NaNo researcher,” Lady Pendragon said.

“But who? Does anyone do real research on NaNo?”

“Yes, believe it or not,” rosiedoodle said.

“How am I supposed to find them?”

“Good luck catching her. She’s all over the place.”

“Okay, let’s say I don’t catch her,” Mia said. “What do I do then? Ask every Wrimo who’s done NaNo for a long time where Chris Baty could be and about these legends?” Being a Knight seemed like it would be better than chasing people around who would know nothing extra about this.

“Fine,” Mia decided. “I’ll be a Knight. People might take me seriously if I tell them I’m a Knight of NaNoWriMo, right?”

“Excellent!” Lady Pendragon replied, clapping her hands. “Now choose your mount and choose it wisely. It’ll be your best friend on your journey through NaNoWriMo.”

“A mount?”

“Yep,” rosiedoodle explained. “A horse or anything else you’d like. Some of us use motorcycles or dragons. I believe Sushi uses a unicorn. She must have worked hard to tame it, but apparently she’s innocent enough.”

A laugh from a distance. “I guess I’ll use a horse,” Mia replied.

“Come on, have some imagination,” someone said. “Anything you can ride. A unicorn, a dragon, a motorcycle, anything!”

“What if I just like horses?” Mia asked. “I did take horseback lessons when I was younger.” That was years and years ago, but she took them for long enough that she would remember how to ride, right?

Lady Pendragon disappeared and returned a minute later with a black horse that had been brushed down so that it shone beautifully.

“It’s a beauty,” Mia said. She walked up to the horse and wrapped her arms around its mane. “I think I’ll call you Beauty.”

She pulled herself on Beauty and pulled the reins. “Giddyap,” she said.

Beauty trotted forward before Mia pulled the reins again. Beauty was a good one.

“How’s the view from up there?” Lady Pendragon asked.

“I could get used to this,” Mia replied. “Consider me Knighted.”

Lady Pendragon grabbed her sword from its sheath and placed it on Mia’s shoulder. “Repeat after me,” Lady Pendragon said. Mia nodded.

“I, Mia Wonnor,” Lady Pendragon said. Mia repeated this. “Do hereby vow.”

“I, Mia Wonner, do hereby vow.”

“To live the noveling life.”

“To live the noveling life.”

“That a Knight of NaNoWriMo should.”

“That a Knight of NaNoWriMo should.”

“I will charge.”

“I will charge.”

“I will remember my coconuts.”

“I will remember my coconuts.”

“And I will remain loyal to NaNoWriMo.”

“And I will remain loyal to NaNoWriMo.”

“In word counts high and low.”

“In word counts high and low.”

Lady Pendragon paused. “I now declare you a Knight of NaNoWriMo, Mia!” She lifted the sword from Mia’s shoulder.

“Now let’s CHAAAAAAAAAAAARGE!” Lady Pendragon said.

“But it’s still October!” Mia said. “We don’t have any words to chaaaaaaaaaaaarge for!”

“We have other things to chaaaaaaaaaarge for!” rosiedoodle said.

“Like what?”

“Your quest, of course! Didn’t you say you had a quest to go on?”

“Yes. But wasn’t that supposed to be an impossible quest?”

Everyone gasped.

“You said the i word,” rosiedoodle said. “That word is banned.”

“I would probably know if that word were banned,” Mia replied. “Wouldn’t someone have already arrested me?” Her mind wandered to the Snatchers. Did anyone get arrested in Wrimonia? How would one get arrested around here, anyway? And would they go to jail? What would a Wrimonia jail be like, anyway? Mia began wondering what jailable offenses would exist in Wrimonia and thought of the terms of service that she did eventually read all the way through. Would violating that put a Wrimo in Wrimonia jail? Were Wrimonia prisoners forced to write under the influence of writer’s block and the inner editor with words falling from the sky and falling on their computer while using Write or Die electric shock mode on their computer.

Oh, and no caffeine or reward food.

Mia looked around and made sure no Wrimo Snatchers were around. She didn’t see anyone.

“Not banned all over Wrimonia,” Lady Pendragon explained. “Just banned from your mind. Nothing is really impossible. You can achieve this quest if, and only if, you truly want it. No matter how difficult it turns out to be, you’ll be able to do it because you, Mia, are a Knight.”

Mia left the Knights with a rejuvenated sense of encouragement. Beauty would be there when she returned.


CHAAAAARGE! It’s the Knights of NaNoWriMo! I love the Knights. Seriously.

Share, don’t be a jerk, donate to NaNo if you’re inclined.

Legends of Wrimonia

Legends of Wrimonia, Part Two: Something Is Different

Wrimonia was indeed shinier than ever, but something felt different. As Mia explored the forums over the next few days, she noticed that everyone was as enthusiastic as ever about NaNo, but that enthusiasm didn’t rub off on her. Instead she wandered Wrimonia in search of inspiration, enthusiasm, and a helpful ear.

“You don’t understand,” Mia said, sitting in her own thread in NaNoWriMo Ate My Soul (formerly I Hate Myself And Want To Die). “I want to do NaNo, but I’m not super duper excited about NaNo like I was the first two years. This feels like last year when I had the new terrible job and the jerk of a boyfriend and the plot I hated and everything else crushing down on me. It was like the world was determined to make me lose NaNo, which was the worst feeling I’ve ever felt during NaNo.” She remembered last year’s experience in Wrimonia. The fog over everything in Wrimonia did a good job of making the forums and Wrimos and word counting robots less visible, not to mention hide my own muse and characters from me. Alaina wasn’t a fan of the fog, she had revealed to Mia, but Alaina did her best to pop in and out as she could.

“I’m allergic to this fog,” Alaina said one day in mid-November. “You don’t want me to die in it, do you?”

Of course Mia didn’t want her to die, and Mia didn’t want her characters to die in that fog either. The thought reminded Mia of her first NaNo where the metal pencil saved her characters from the bubble created by Writer’s Block and the Inner Editor. But this wasn’t a bubble that could be pierced by the pencil. The fog was unpiercable, and eventually she drowned in it, finding herself outside Wrimonia and in her non-noveling life without 50,000 words to boot.

But what if that happened again this year? What if the fog came back? Had anyone even defeated the fog before? Mia remembered filing a bug report for it, and no one could verify a site-wide fog. It turned out that the fog was only viewable to the individual, and while individual Wrimos offered many tips, none of them helped completely for her.

Mia recounted this experience to the bunch of Wrimos who were now listening in the forum thread. “How am I going to finish this year?” she asked. “Is it even worth trying again this year when I failed last year?”

“Yes,” a Wrimo carrying a bag with a mermaid wearing pants on it said. “You are a Wrimo. You are capable of doing wonderful things.”

“Who are you?” Mia asked.

“I’m leirali,” she replied. “I didn’t finish NaNo last year because I didn’t believe in my story, just like you didn’t last year. I haven’t finished a few times in the past either. But you know what? I believe in you, Mia. Look at those badges!”

leirali pointed to Mia’s participant badges below her nametag, to the purple 2009 and 2010 badges and the blue 2011 badge. “Those mean something, Mia. You have stories to tell. I have stories to tell. And this year we’re going to tell them.” A plot bunny started to nibble on leirali’s pants, and she scooped it up. “You can do it, Mia!” leirali said as she ran out the thread door, cradling the bunny.

A second Wrimo came in then, and Mia noticed her nametag read quixotic_hope. Mia also noticed the blue and purple badges attached to the nametag. Here was another Wrimo who hand’t finished before, and two years in a row at that.

“quixotic_hope, you haven’t finished NaNo before,” Mia said. “Should I even try this year?”

“YES,” quixotic_hope replied.

“But I don’t have a plot for this year! And I don’t have any ideas either.”

“They’ll come,” quixotic_hope replied. “November’s almost a month away, and Wrimonia is full of inspiration and entire forums to help you get an idea.

“But what if I don’t love my novel this year either?” Mia asked. “I might lose two years in a row and then what’ll happen? At least my life is a little better this year…”

“If you don’t love your novel, figure out what you don’t love about it,” quixotic_hope said. “And then make it the novel you want to read.”

“What if I can’t do that?” Mia asked, thinking back to the monstrosity of the year before.

“I know you can do it,” quixotic_hope said. “Embrace all the ideas you have and write what you want to write.”

Write the story you want to write, Mia thought. She would keep this in mind.

Over the next few days Mia continued exploring the forums in search of a plot. The plot bunnies that had nibbled at her feet in past years didn’t do so this year, instead nibbling at the feet of other Wrimos, and Mia suspected that the plot bunnies were conspiring against her in their inspiration of other Wrimos. Even Alaina the muse wasn’t around this year as she had been in the past, leaving Mia alone to explore the lands of inspiration for a plot. Alaina wasn’t a fan of last year’s fog, and Mia wondered if the fog would keep Alaina again this year.

But the forums weren’t as inspirational as they were in the past. Mia wandered into the Adoption Society forum in search of a plot one day and found only plots that she knew she could never write, plots that reminded her of her first NaNo and her first trip to that forum. That was why she never returned to the Adoption Society in future years. That forum was not for those writing serious literature, despite the non-seriousness of her first novel.

Still, there was something missing, and Mia couldn’t figure out what it was. One day a bullhorn sounded across Wrimonia, a new feature from 2011’s redesign. All attention turned to the square, where a chariot pulled by something invisible entered the square. On the chariot stood three people in pale blue capes: Lindsey Grant and two men Mia didn’t recognize. One of the men carried a megaphone, and Mia looked up. Who was this unfamiliar man and why was he wearing a blue staff cape in Wrimonia?

The man held the megaphone to his mouth and spoke. “Greetings, Wrimos!” the man said. “My name is Grant Faulkner and I am the executive director of the Office of Letters and Light. Some of you may not recognize me as this is first NaNoWriMo that I’ve served in this position, but I’ve also served on the OLL Board of Directors. NaNoWriMo is a wonderful program that has served hundreds of thousands of writers over its going on fourteen years of existence in its adult and youth programs, and the expansion of these programs is faster than ever. But building Wrimonia doesn’t come for free, and Wrimonia is primarily run by donation by Wrimos like you. Our halo vendors are ready to affix halos to you in exchange for your generosity, and our Fund-o-meter is ready to show how close we are to achieving our fundraising goal this year. Thank you for everything, and I look forward to noveling with you. And now, NaNoWriMo Program Director Lindsey Grant with a special announcement.”

Grant handed the megaphone to Lindsey.

“Thank you, Grant,” Lindsey said. “Welcome, Wrimos! And for those returning, welcome back! For those who don’t know me, I’m Lindsey Grant, your program director and guide through your November noveling adventure. It’s been a great four years, Wrimos. From guiding you as community liaison to stepping up as program director, I’ve watched this program grow by leaps and bounds and watched you make new friends, write many stories, and go on big, fun, scary adventures.

“Next year I’m going on my own big fun scary adventure. This January I’m stepping down as Program Director and writing full-time in Switzerland.” A collective gasp. “Don’t worry, Wrimos; you’re still in good hands. Chris Angotti here is coming from the Young Writers Program to take my spot as director of all NaNoWriMo programs. He’ll introduce himself in a minute, but I just want to thank you for all the wonderful NaNoWriMos from the staff side of things here. I’ll still be around Wrimonia, but as a regular Wrimo, and I hope you’ll keep in touch.”

Applause. Lindsey handed the megaphone to Chris, the man who hand’t spoken yet. “Good day, Wrimos,” Chris said. “Some of you may not know me. I’m Chris Angotti, director of the Young Writers Program and soon to be new director of all NaNoWriMo programs. Before coming to NaNoWriMo I was a classroom English teacher, and I’m a current fan of burritos and dogs. During my time overseeing the Young Writers Program I’ve watched thousands of young writers achieve their goals and learn the novel-writing process. Lindsey will be training me in the best program directing initiatives before her departure in January, but unfortunately she’s not skilled in Old Norse. So good luck to you, Wrimos, and I look forward to noveling with you!”

A good chunk of Wrimos cheered. Mia did not; she frowned at the change that was happening right in front her eyes as the chariot flew off into the sky. First Chris Angotti left, then Lindsey Grant, then Grant Faulkner. What could she rely on to stay the same in Wrimonia?

As Mia wandered around the forums later, she realized what was different about the place.

Chris Baty was nowhere to be found. Oh sure, she didn’t see him every day in past years, but that was because he was busy taking care of higher level things of importance to Wrimonia. Now, however, he was nowhere to be seen, even as a regular Wrimo. Was he hiding from Wrimonia? Was he trying to take all the excitement Mia felt for NaNoWriMo with him?

This didn’t appear to be the case for other Wrimos, who chipped along quite nicely as if Chris Baty had never left in the first place. Mia found her way to the All-Ages Coffee House forum and set up shop in a new thread. “Do you think Wrimonia feels different without Chris Baty?” she asked. She sat down on a purple cushion and waited for replies. None came for a bit, so she kept waiting.

Finally a Wrimo whose name Mia couldn’t read entered the thread. “Hi,” Mia said, trying to get a glance at the participant badges but could only get a glimpse of purple.

“Honestly, Chris Baty kept this place in order,” the Wrimo said. “I don’t know what’s happened since he left, but I remember things being a lot calmer. Fewer community conflicts in threads. Less whining about crap that didn’t matter. Not as much flimsy flamsy stuff about rebelling instead of cheating and fanfiction being a genre.”

“But fanfiction isn’t a genre,” Mia said. “It takes on the genre of the original–”

The Wrimo cut Mia off. “It has its own genre forum!” she said. “Just like fantasy and mystery and chick lit and erotica. Why doesn’t steampunk have its own genre?”

“Because there are already plenty of genre lounges,” Mia replied. “I have enough trouble navigating them all as it is, and that matters for once since I don’t know what genre I’m writing this year.” This was a lie; she figured she was going to write mainstream or lit fic like she did every year. Nothing was going to change there… right?

“Yeah, but more whining has happened since Baty started getting less directly involved,” the other Wrimo replied, changing the subject back to that of the thread. “You need to pay attention to notice, but things are a-changing around these parts.”

Another Wrimo entered then. Her nametag read brionyjae. She listened to what had already been stated and said, “Look, NaNoWriMo and Wrimonia are never going to be exactly the same without Chris Baty. He created this wonderful program for us to write novels in to start with! But we are NaNoWriMo, and without us wonderful Wrimos the wonderful place we call Wrimonia will fall apart. NaNo’s no better or worse without Chris, just under different leadership. That’s all.”

Mia nodded, but brionyjae still didn’t convince her. Chris Baty was gone, Lindsey Grant would be gone soon, and Wrimonia still felt different. Mia knew what she had to do, and there was only one person who could fix this.


Here we go, Part Two. I remember other Wrimos wondering whether things would be different without Chris Baty. Mia wondered the same thing. More on Wednesday.

Fun fact: I had to edit part of this section because a couple of paragraphs were written in first person instead of third. Oops.

Share, don’t be a jerk, donate to NaNo if you’re inclined (they have cute camp goodies!).

Legends of Wrimonia

Legends of Wrimonia, Part One: A Return to Wrimonia

It begins: Legends of Wrimonia, the sequel to Adventures in Wrimonia! Sorry this took so long; I had planned on rereading this to correct a few details after fixing typos, but I can do that as I go along, right? We’ll see how much I regret that later.

Oh, and if you haven’t read the first Wrimonia book yet, you may want to do that before Legends.

Enough babbling. On to the novel!


Mia Wonnor bounced down the path toward the adventure that awaited her, but instead of the usual sign welcoming her to Wrimonia, a crowd of people stood at the end of the path.

A path? Mia thought. This was unusual. She stood at the back of the crowd and looked ahead at the backs of the thousands of people standing there, most likely also waiting to enter just like her. Why was Wrimonia closed?

There was only one way to find out. Mia squeezed through the crowd, pushing through people with messenger bags and backpacks slung over their shoulders. A few of these people looked familiar from past years experiencing the same adventure, but Mia couldn’t place faces to names and didn’t want to be wrong if the name was wrong. When she reached a point where pushing forward was no longer possible without approaching the point of rudeness, she looked up to more closely examine what everyone was looking at.

The entrance to Wrimonia was indeed closed; tall black gates stood in front of what was once an open and inviting entrance. A pedestal towered over all the Wrimos. Mia craned her neck to examine it.

It was like any other pedestal except it was very tall. Mia imagined that there must be a ladder on the back for the person standing on it to use, for there wasn’t a ladder visible.

The Wrimos around Mia chattered happily, and Mia looked around for people she knew well. In the interest of not being more rude than she may have already been, she didn’t push through the Wrimos to look for her noveling friends, but if everyone else could find someone familiar, she could too.

Mia’s search for Wrimo friends was interrupted by a collective gasp followed by a cheer. She looked up.

A woman in a pale blue cape flew toward the pedestal, megaphone in hand, and made a smooth landing on the pedestal. Mia recognized her: Community Liaison turned NaNoWriMo Program Director Lindsey Grant. But what was up with the cape? Lindsey lifted the megaphone to her mouth and began to speak.

“Welcome, Wrimos, to the grand reopening of Wrimonia!” she said. Her voice echoed throughout the land just outside Wrimonia; nearby, small blue birds flew away from the trees they were resting in. “November is a month away, and Wrimonia now has more tools and features to help you write a novel.”

There was more cheering, which was interrupted by a screech of the megaphone.

Lindsey frowned. “Uh, sorry about that,” she said. “We know you’re raring to enter Wrimonia, but a few things before you get started. If you see anything wrong, please report them to Wrimo Hall, second floor, where our tech team will be happy to help. And we’ll be sending updates via our broadcast system, so keep an eye and ear out. Now go have fun!”

More cheering. Mia watched as Lindsey flew off the pedestal. The pedestal fell slowly and the gates opened, and everyone ran through the gates into the shiny but familiar Wrimonia.

The new Wrimonia was shinier and bigger than ever. Mia walked around the new Wrimonia, taking in the new surroundings. Would this year be a repeat of last year? Would she find a plot she loved so she could see our through to the end, even through the editing and publishing stages?

Mia looked down at her participant badges. 2009, won. 2010, won. 2011… participated. Mia stared at the blue 2011 badge and sighed. Last year was a mistake, wasn’t it? She shouldn’t have done NaNo with the move and the new job and that jerk…

She let these thoughts fester in her mind while wandering around Wrimonia. The main features that Dan and Jezra had built into the site the year before, the larger forums, the improved announcements system, the shinier square, the bigger and increased eraser benches, the increased quantity of robots, made Wrimonia a more exciting place than ever. And of course Wrimonia itself seemed bigger than ever. More Wrimos than ever wandered around the square, exploring the forums, chatting with new and old friends, and counting down the days until NaNoWriMo began.

Speaking of which… Mia glanced at the countdown clock right above her. Thirty-one days until NaNoWriMo begins, the clock said.

Thirty-one days to figure out a plot.

Mia soon found herself in front of a building she hand’t seen before. She looked up at the tall building of brick. “Appellation Station,” a stone sign in front of the building said. “For all your naming needs. Special thanks to calante for naming this forum.”

Appellation station? Mia hand’t seen this building here before. She had heard murmurs of a few new forums this year, but a forum just for naming things was not one she expected. It still sounded wonderful, though, so she opened the door and wandered in.

There was a sticky post in this forum explaining what this forum was about and thanking calante for naming this forum. After reading that Mia moved on to the posts.

The first post in that forum sought a name for a female working in communications. “She also likes to write fiction,” the Wrimo said. “That’s about all I have right now.”

Mia stopped. “Are you talking about me?” she asked. “Because the person you’ve described there sounds an awful lot like me.”

The original poster looked up. “That sounds like a lot of Wrimos, probably,” she replied. Mia looked at the poster’s name tag, which read Joyce_S. “But if it sounds a lot like you…” Joyce_S glanced at Mia’s name tag. “Mia Wonnor.” Joyce_S paused. “I like that name. I’ll keep it in mind.” Joyce_S grabbed a notepad out of her bag and scribbled Mia’s name down. “Don’t worry, she won’t be too much like you.”

Joyce_S left the forum with a newfound name. Mia stood there for a minute before following Joyce_S out, taking in what had just happened.

She’s using my name! Mia thought to herself. Mine! My name’s going to be a character in a book, and the way it sounds the character may be a lot like me, meaning…

“Oh god, I may be a character in a book,” Mia said. She sat down on one of the eraser benches with her bag and felt around the inside, the laptop and the notebooks and pens and the traveling shovel of death she still carried around for the past three years and the metal pencil that saved her life the first time she did NaNo…

Mia took the pencil out of the bag and examined it. She remembered what the marathon runner had told her three years ago. NaNoWriMo was in her fate. But did the runner mean that NaNo was in her fate that one time for winning NaNo, or that NaNo was in her fate every year?

But… if NaNo was in her fate every year, then what happened last year?

I’ll edit the sequel page later and the bottom of this page with details (and in later sections, commentary). The basics: Don’t be a dick; donate to NaNo if you’re so inclined because they’re awesome.