Two weeks ago, on the eve of NaNo, I introduced you to a 2015 side project of mine, keeping myself sane as I attempted to make new writing friends in a new state. This is a continuation of the “NaNoLog” I began there.
Wrimo Log, Day 11: Monsoon season has come. I braved the rains to meet the others at the local mess hall, and was comforted to find a familiar face that was not one of the chieftains. It appears to me now that the others have simply been preparing for monsoon season, and have thus attended meetings in shifts. I, being new and inexperienced, was simply unaware of the general practice. I also feel it necessary to update base camp on a new change to the vocabulary index. As the natives have frequently referred to these gatherings as “write-ins,” I have repeatedly come with the expectation that there would be writing. It seems that a certain sect of traditionalists maintain this definition, but for the majority of the crowd, “talk-in” seems to be the more appropriate term. Though tonight was again delightful, and I appear to be bonding well, my word count once again leaves in vain.
Wrimo Log, Day 13: The tribe is now comfortable enough with my presence that they no longer feel the need to censor their topics of conversation around me. They seem to lack the moral values of my home tribe, often resorting to vulgar conversations about anatomy, and consulting a certain Urban Dictionary for inspiration. Fortunately, I am not so easily scarred. I found their illicit subject matter quite amusing. Perhaps this is a sign that I am assimilating well.
Wrimo Log, Day 14: The natives are unfamiliar with the tribal ritual of football fandom that was ever important in my homeland. I attempted to explain the ritual worship of my home idol, the Bear, and insisted that I participate in the ritual via radio during our meeting time. They were somewhat amused by my gestures of excitement and grief. Apparently, they were amused in an endeared way, rather than a teasing one. I have heard rumblings that the Inner Sanctum is considering allowing me entrance into their ranks. Much of the leadership has agreed, and my chances look promising. My hard work has paid off.
Wrimo Log, Day 16: I was alone in joining the more introverted chieftain for the lunch-hour write-in today. It is he who has not yet been asked about my entrance into the Inner Sanctum, to my understanding. I struck up quiet conversation in an attempt to gauge his sentiments toward me. Though he is not very expressive, he seems to like me well enough, so long as I initiate the conversation. I am tentatively hopeful about my chances of being accepted.
Did I survive November? Did I make it into the Inner Sanctum? Find out in two weeks!