I know I’m not supposed to begin work on my NaNo writing until the stroke of midnight on November 1st, but rules be damned, I’ve begun. The other NaNo writers in the Salem group can harrass me all they want, taunt me and call me a cheater, but I can assure them that it will fall on deaf ears. It’s been so long since I’ve written anything that to hold off on any idea right now would be madness on my part. It’s like the married man’s wife offering him sex. Hey, when the opportunity’s there, you run with it!
If you’ve followed along here since the beginning, you know that I’ve participated in NaNo for a couple of years now, but always without success. For one reason or another, I’ve never made it to the end of the 50,000 word monthly goal, and have, in fact, usually fallen far short. I won’t promise anything different this time around, but have a feeling that things could turn out better. I’m a different man than I was at this time a year ago, life has seen to that, giving me quite the mental beating over the last twelve months (my lack of writing here being one of the consequences).
I haven’t decided how much of this story I’ll post as I go along - maybe all of it, maybe excerpts, maybe nothing - I don’t know. What I will tell you today is that the story is called The Constant Hand of Tomas Smollet, and will be written somewhat in the fashion of Tobias Smollett’s Travels Through France and Italy, as in the story will be told mostly as a collection of long, detailed letters, most of which will have been written by the books main character, Tomas Smollet. I won’t give away much more at the moment, other than to say that the story’s letters all take place in a not too distant future, but have been compiled sometime in the mid 22nd century. Why the futuristic tilt? So I can have the chance to be prophetic, of course. Why else?
Here’s an excerpt from the book’s introduction:
The Constant Hand of Tomas Smollet
An Introduction
It is safe to say that literally hundreds of books have been written of the chaotic upheaval experienced throughout the United States in the early 21st century, yet it is unfortunate, but as is often the case with historical writing, that only a small handful of these books prove to be backed by thorough research and well-documented facts, leaving the vast majority of them, while perhaps entertaining, amounting to nothing more than collections of second, third, and often fourth-hand accounts of the events that took place during that time. There is the argument, however, and perhaps one worthy of reflection, that we are being hasty when we hold up one account of events over another and claim that it is the “more accurate”, for as the late British historian Denival Cromwell was fond of reminding us, “This pile of shiny marbles that we call “history” will forever be in need of constant restacking, and if there is but one historical truth, it is that the same, favored marble will not always rise to the top of the stack.”
So where then, you are doubtless asking yourself, does this book fall? What is so different about The Constant Hand of Tomas Smollet that it warrants of you both your valuable time and money? These are valid questions.
As editor of this book, it would seem that I should have a clear and precise answer to these questions, and that by not answering them, I should fail in my duty to properly sell you on the merits of the book, but it is my hope that you will find somewhere in yourself the desire to read further, and that by doing so, you will have the chance to answer these questions for yourself, which I assure you, is the only way this book can and should be approached. Does The Constant Hand of Tomas Smollet contain truth? Yes, certainly, but what those truths are should be something that you decide upon for yourself, and not have dictated to you the book’s editor.
And as you will see, should you continue reading, the classification of this book is no easy task, for the collection of letters, when taken as a whole, cover a vast variety of subjects which cannot be readily summarized. The collection is as much mystery novel as it is historical reference, just as it is as much autobiography as it is, believe it or not, prophetic guidebook. In his letters, Smollet discloses much about his own personality, writing with an apparent openness that reveals both his strengths and weaknesses, offering the reader a unique . . . .
It of course goes on and on and seems to want to never stop, as introductions so often seem to do.