It’s become a habit of mine to write a parody of different poems or stories as a prelude to NaNoWriMo each year. Some I posted on Facebook or private message boards, but you can find two of past years’ parodies HERE and HERE. This year, I played with Edgar Allen Poe’s “The Raven.” It’s not a good parody. But it was fun for me anyway.
Once upon an evening dreary, my fingers still and not weary
Anticipating and ready to write tomes of exciting lore.
While I waited, fingers tapping at the clock, there came a tapping,
As of someone impatiently rapping at my closed front door.
“Tis a trick or treater,” I sighed, “tapping at the front door—
Only this and nothing more.”
Ah, I remember oh, so sober, t’was the end of brisk October
And ugh, such a mediocre idea filled papers on the floor.
Eagerly I wished for midnight:–vainly I had fought a good fight
‘gainst the muse who screamed for sorrow—sorrow for the writer’s chore
For the rare and delicious story that the author calls a chore.
Writing thus for evermore.
And the told, not shown, scene withers till it keeps me in the dithers
Disgusted—unnerved me with editing terrors not felt before.
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I sat repeating,
“Tis a trick or treater tapping at the cold front door.
That is it and nothing more.”
Presently my nerves grew stronger and hesitated no longer
“Tricks,” said I, “or Treater, truly your patience I implore;
But the fact is I was waiting, and so gently you came praying
And so earnestly you were praying for a treat from my open door,
That I scarce wanted to waver, so my voice it did here quaver
Unwilling to leave my page of lore.
Deep in the darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting dreaming dreams no story ever dared to dream before;
But the child who made the request, (sounding much more like a behest)
And the only word there spoken were whispered words, “It’s a chore?”
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the words, “A chore?”
Merely this and nothing more.
Turned I back and flung a shutter, when with many a flirt and flutter,
In the room stepped a Raven, a muse from past days of yore
Of no inspiration gave he, from plotting and conflict strayed he
But with my antagonist, played he as if a dreadful chore
Played and strayed and nothing more.
Then this worthless muse beguiling sent my fingers to compiling
A new story arch of intrigue, danger, romance and so much more.
“Though you’re heartless, truly craven, though you look like Poe’s ‘The Raven’
Blackened, grim and from stone graven, thou,” I said, “are misbehavin’
I plead for what’s truly missing from this tome of forgotten lore.”
Quoth the Raven, “Nevermore.”
Yet the Raven, the muse ne’er missing a chance to tease and not dismissing
The many worthless notions that make my passion seem a chore.
Oh, his eyes have all the seeming, of a demon’s that is dreaming,
Dreaming of plots that won’t become crumpled pages on the floor.
My heart within me shatters when a plot hole splatters on the floor.
It begins in three hours.
NaNoWriMo 2016. I’m so excited. This year’s book? Well… this is the official cover reveal!
I confess…. Wendy is just a bit too pretty on this cover. She looks more like Rosie the Riveter than this gal, but I’m considering this that “Wow. That’s the best picture you’ve ever taken” photo. Yeah. That. 🙂
Don’t forget! I’ve got 30 days of NaNoWriMo tips and encouraging words all lined up for you over on Instagram!
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