Yes, you read that correctly. I wanted to do something to show solidarity with my NaNoWriMo friends, so I invented “NaNoWriMi.” You see how much of a novel you can write in a minute (hence the “Mi”), and then you abandon it forever. 1, 2, 3, go…
My "Novel Zero" was this:
Last Moon at Aggathor
by Mike Selinker
Today I am a man, thought Redclaw. I can give up enough of myself to make the change, day or night. The greater acommplishemnt is retaining enough of myself to change back.
Yes, that's how I spelled "accomplishment." You think I'm wasting precious seconds on spellchecking? I've concluded that the rule "You can finish your last sentence, but for God's sakes, be quick about it" may need to exist, but most people seem to get somewhere with 60 seconds from conception to (a sort of) conclusion.
Anyway, it's kinda taken off on my Facebook page ("novels" by Jason Bulmahn, Owen Stephens, Miranda Horner, and more), so I figured folks here might like in. I'll probably collect them somewhere afterward. Anybody want to climb on board the NaNoWriMi Express?
I wrote a new one just for the Paizo boards.. here it is. Enjoy.
The ship was traveling at mark 7, well above its optimal cruising speed. The deck plates creaked, and the engines were beginning to make an ominious rumble. None of that mattered though. The Zeus class heavy destroyer had to make it to Tau Antaris system within the next 4 hours or 17.2 billion people were going to die.
"That's not a book, that's a lecture," she said. "I can't tell you how important this thing is to me -- they're out there, they know it, and they're coming to get us." Then the walls fell, but it wasn't like that at all. Dust everywhere. Books a-kilter. The end was at hand. She wrote, and then was done. With four seconds to spare.
Whodunnit?
Detective Dudley puffed on his pipe as lightning crashed outside. He regarded the group sitting in the parlor and said, "One of you is the murderer! Is it Prof. Pumpernickel? Miss Crimson? Or perhaps Dr. Knowbody? Judging by the evidence we have, that murderer is..."
(Seconds to spare)
Detective Dudley puffed on his pipe as lightning crashed outside. He regarded the group sitting in the parlor and said, "One of you is the murderer! Is it Prof. Pumpernickel? Miss Crimson? Or perhaps Dr. Knowbody? Judging by the evidence we have, that murderer is..."
(Seconds to spare)
Seconds to spare? Then you easily could have told us who the murderer was! That's just mean.
Reggie(Pathfinder Adventure Path Charter Subscriber; Roleplaying Game, Modules Subscriber)
Dawn in the AP's Office
by Reggie
They'll be here any minute, he thought wearily. The hot weather won't keep them out this time, the little buggers. What can I do? Then it hit him in a flash.
Close the place down! Even the staff'll be happy then!
Detective Dudley puffed on his pipe as lightning crashed outside. He regarded the group sitting in the parlor and said, "One of you is the murderer! Is it Prof. Pumpernickel? Miss Crimson? Or perhaps Dr. Knowbody? Judging by the evidence we have, that murderer is..."
(Seconds to spare)
Seconds to spare? Then you easily could have told us who the murderer was! That's just mean.
Aramon looked away as the sun went nova. His ship was fast enough to outrun the blast-wave, but he knew he wouldn't be returning to the Eronax Imperium any time soon. Some people were just too picky about their suns, regardless of how many they had.
Well, what had started out as a miserable day had brightened considerably, Par Obenka reflected. The weather 'droids had managed to clear the sleet out of the air, and the magni-rails were finally running on schedule, after all the endless issues with the Imperial troopers hassling the natives. He instructed the railcar to drop him off at his office, where he was scheduled to meet with his superiors about a lucrative off-planet report.
It was, all told, the best day in Par Obenka's life.
And then he looked up, puzzled. "Alderaan doesn't have a moon," he muttered.
Pain exploded through me at the thought. It started in the temples, beating like drumbeats hard upon my flesh. Then it jolted inwards, inflaming the inner layers of my brain like that stupid egg they used to tell you would be your brain if you did drugs. Funny, didn't need drugs to make that happen.
I woke up hungry for Taco Bell. Sleepily, I rose to my feet. My shoes… hmm, somewhere. A thought hit me. The dark ones may be waiting. Images of dark wings, and white fangs came to my mind. “F+~% it,” I said out loud. I want some tacos.
Slipping into my shoes, I quietly push open the door. A warm wind, for a November day, brushes past me. Leaves in the parking lot chase each other in circles. I start walking.
The ship swung about sails limp against the wind, Fire shouted commander Ableyard. Grapeshot store white hot through the air. The men on deck of the La Victore we torn to bloody shreds.
The ship swung about sails limp against the wind, Fire shouted commander Ableyard. Grapeshot store white hot through the air. The men on deck of the La Victore we torn to bloody shreds.
The clash of swords rang out across the courtyard. All those looking down from the tower saw the valor of their fighting men and women, but it became quickly obvious that their forces were woefully outnumbered.
Logging into her computer, setting herself into a standby mode, she waited. In just a moment, the phone would ring and she would have to turn on. In the meantime, she could dream of being a real girl.
He was a man forged out of pain, beaten all his life, and sold into slavery to the Magic Man. One day he would bury a blade in the Man and steal his magic, never to be beaten again....
The shop was well lit, and a little dusty. Both walls of the narrow space had high, long bookshelves running the entire length of the store. On them were books and oddities.
"Why do so many wizards all use the same spells, if they can research new ones? Wouldn't it be better to have all unique spells, so no one could counterspell you?"
Kyrnan Vale winced at the apprentice's cracking voice. Children at that age were always annoying. Spellcasting children were unbearable.
A voice spoke out. "There are stairs here," a small flicker of light came on to reveal the face of a small black feline.
There was a loud clatter followed by a noisy thump. "OW," another voice cried out. "I warned you," the cat replied. "Yeah, yeah, Ginger. Would you please