The Night before NaNo

With apologies to, well, everyone. - Soren

'Twas the night before NaNo, when all through the site
Busy Wrimos were pondering; "What shall I write?"
The plotting was hurried, and done without care,
Soft muttered hopes to the Muse filled the air;

The laptops were warming, the coffee laid in,
Adrenaline flowing, not a quivering chin;
And Zette with her novels piled high on the couch,
Had dashed off another one; we know she's no slouch;

When there in the chat room suddenly scrolled such a clatter,
I refenestrated to see what was the matter.
Clicking a window, I popped it up like a flash,
Re-set my tag line and cleared out my cache.

On the midnight blue background, a simple white text
The plaintive request of a newbie quite vexed,
"The hours are few, my novel barely a notion!",
"Don't worry", typed all, "You're in Forward Motion!"

With rapid-fire questions, and quick repartee
The chatters all mustered; can they save the day?
More rapid than eagles the plot twists they came,
And the regulars marshaled, all listed by name;

"Now, LAURA now, FETU! now, LYRICALMOON!
On, ROBERT! on KIMMY! Pitch in, SPLODGEMAROON!
To the rescue!" they chanted. "To the rescue!" they piped.
"Brainstorm away! Brainstorm! More ideas!" they typed.

As blank pages before a word war will stare,
Then quickly fill, words pulled out of thin air,
So was this man's passion, unformed but there yet,
With the right kind of prompting, it was beginning to set.

And then, in an instant, his Muse hit the roof
His ideas full flowed; you could see them go 'poof!'
And the rest, they continued to toss them around,
Back and forth, the ideas built up from the ground.

From nothing he'd started, just a goal for November,
To have 50k under his belt by December;
And knowing naught else, he had grown quickly frantic,
But now the words flowed; "perspicacious! pedantic!" .

He felt for the first that this wasn't insane,
As sub-plots and characters leapt into his brain.
It wouldn't be painful; it could be quite fun!
And thirty days, plus some hours, from now it would be done;

The chat turned to others, he pitched in and helped.
One person spilled coffee on her keyboard and yelped.
From medieval religion to a relationship play
The chat continued for hours, and time spilled away;

Then suddenly midnight! Upon them it pounced.
"To work!" They typed boldly, and re-set their counts.
And the newbie sighed softly, in the quiet of his den,
His dread had been vanquished by the help of new friends;

He sat at his keyboard, with a merry subconscious whistle,
And away the words flew "...like the down off a thistle".
But he added one line, as he closed chat for the night,
"HAPPY NANO TO ALL, AND TO ALL A GOOD WRITE!"

© 2002, Soren