Hi friends. It’s been a minute! If you’re new here, this is The 200 Word Novel, where true to its name, I’ll be engaging in a bit of an experiment: writing a novel roughly 200 words at a time.
Writing is hard.
There are so many tools and tricks and software promising to make it easier. And some genuinely do. But at the end of the day, the only way to write is to sit down and write. One word at a time.
Or perhaps 200 words at a time.
The idea is simple: in contrast with high intensity exercises or cadences that set a high daily word count goal, the commitment is to just write 200 words a day. By making it a very low and easy number, it’s easier to commit to putting at least that many words down on the page, and thus make slow but steady progress towards completion.
Word count is a funny thing. For some folks, it is incredibly motivating and energizing to watch the number go up. I have friends who I deeply admire who crush national novel writing month each year, hitting the 50k words goal with zest and energy.
For myself, I’ve found it’s a bit like watching the scale when you’re trying to exercise or eat healthier. The number is a useful measure to check in with now and again, but fixation on a daily basis oftentimes becomes a demotivator rather than an energizer.
That said, structure and habit are powerful tools. And as my day job has taken me away from daily writing and into bizdev, management, and leadership over the last several years, rebuilding some habitual muscles seems like a useful exercise.
So here’s me committing to sharing the results of my 200(ish) words a day, in batches of 5(ish) days a week. I’ll be posting weekly updates, compiling the 1000(or so) words, and likely editorializing lightly on the process and writing experience.
I’m going to try to be light on editing as I go. I have not outlined this story in advance. The words that’s tumbling out will be very much a follow-my-feet, goes-where-the-winds-take-us journey. It’s likely to be in a “quite a bit messier” state than I usually like to share in a draft. You will encounter things in [hard brackets] that denote placeholder names, or maybe even the occasional “[cool fight scene goes here]”. And I expect if I reach “the end,” the editing process will transform the story in significant ways.
But I’m excited to give this a go, and grateful you’re here to read over my shoulder. 💙
Enough ado; please enjoy this little snippet of, let’s call it… [Book 1].
1.
Gruber ran his tongue over his eyeball for a fourth time as his gaze drifted over the deck of the ship.
Under most circumstances, he didn’t mind taking jobs from [Mainland] expeditions. [Mainlanders] only ever hired him on when they feared the journey would be particularly harrowing, or when they had already lost many a ship on a particular route—or, occasionally, when a crew member on an expedition was appropriately experienced with (or superstitious when) traversing the waterways to Vahn. All of which meant Gruber would be generously compensated for his time and expertise.
And Gruber did not mind danger. The waters near Vahn were dangerous—but to those who grew up sailing its murky currents and channels, mitigating risk and avoiding the worst of the dangers was more of an exercise in diligence and patience, not one of particularly complex nor difficult navigation. Don’t cross the dark currents. Take heed of the direction and temperament of the Elemental winds. Put out lights and flames when gloomnaughts drift near. Basic common sense lessons Gruber learned and knew since childhood.
Honestly, by all accounts, this particular expedition seemed like a typical, or even ideal, voyage for Gruber. He knew this captain—Basil Kavelin, a lizard trader he had worked with before. Her ship, the Duskhawk, came well equipped for the voyage, and he had always appreciated it over some of the bloated, oversized merchant vessels designed to carry more cargo than sense. Gruber rarely liked to take on jobs with the same ships twice, but Basil has proven herself reliable and worth it—cautious but confident, and always respectful of Gruber’s guidance and warnings.
On top of it all, this trip was a familiar one, with Basil charting a conservative route from the [Outer Isles] across the [Dread Seas] back towards Vahn—the perfect voyage to bring Gruber home. With this job, instead of having to pay for his keep on board a random ship making the passage, he got paid up front to serve as guide for this expedition.
By most measures, it would seem the smile of Fortune favored Gruber in this moment.
But then the silver wolf named Orion opened his loud mouth again.
“I’m not saying I’m wishing for trouble,” he said in a performative whisper—one loud enough that Gruber could hear him clear across the deck. “But you must admit this voyage has been rather… boring, has it not?”
“Boring is good.” The badger Orion was whining at looked like she would have rather been anywhere else. Unfortunately for her, she seemed determined to remain standing next to the third of their party, a young snow owl lad Gruber had heard them call Benji. And Benji seemed determined to sit right next to the mast of the ship, unmoving, where he currently appeared to be dedicating the majority of his energy towards an immense effort to not vomit everywhere.
“Boring is a criminal underutilization of my immense talents, darling,” Orion drawled, brushing imagined lint off his gilded robes. Gruber could practically hear the badger’s eyeroll at this retort, but Orion seemed not to notice. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d suspect that we got dumped onto a decoy mission instead of protecting the most important arcane innovation since—”
“You speak much where silence should instead prevail.” The badger scowled at Orion, looking about the ship. A particularly large wave broke upon the bow right then, and Gruber watched all three stagger to find their balance, the badger’s heavy plate armor clattering as they did so. (A wild choice, to wear so much metal at sea, but also not the most foolish thing currently on the ship.) All managed to stay on their feet, but Benji lost his war to hold back his nausea, expelling an impressive stream of vomit across the deck.
Orion’s lip curled with disgust, and he waved his hands at the sick slowly trickling across the planks. The lumpy gray liquid steamed and curled with smoke, evaporating rapidly until it all had vanished in short order. “Oh please,” he said, fingers finishing their arcane dance through the air. “It’s quite late. Hardly anyone is even up on the deck.”
A brief pause.
“Except that weirdo frog.”
Another brief pause.
“And I’m not even sure he speaks [Common].”
“He absolutely does,” said the badger.
“I absolutely do,” said Gruber.
“Ah,” responded Orion.
For a while, the sound of roiling spray and the wind was mercifully all the sound on board the ship.
“We can return below, Ari,” Benji said to the badger. “I don’t think the fresh air is helping much.”
“I’ll say,” Orion chimed in helpfully.
Ari scowled at the wolf, but Orion seemed immune to her disdain as he led the way back towards the cabin doors. Ari offered Benji a stabilizing hand, but the young owl waved her ahead, feathers ruffling as he pulled his cloak closer around him. As the trio left the deck, Benji threw a sheepish glace in Gruber’s direction again, his golden eyes crinkled in an apologetic expression. The moment quickly broke as another roil of waves sent Benji staggering on his way, a hand thrown up to his beak.
Gruber blinked—a longer, more arduous process than for others. “This smellin’ like a messy one, Gilly,” he said aloud.
As if in answer to his utterance, a body crashed onto the deck in front of him, splattering with a sickening crunch of flesh and bone.
🐸
That’s it for this week. Excited to discover where this weird lil’ frog guy is headed with y’all. Until then, may your week be free from splatters and sickening crunches.