“I found something out there,” he told me. I wasn’t sure what he was talking about. He pointed to the horizon, and I looked, but all I could see was a vast emptiness. The landscape stretched out to the horizon, a blue shimmering rock. Nothing grew on its surface. Everyone knew that. We came to this planet because we found water below the surface, so we all expected some familiar carbon-based life forms. But there were no plants, no trees, no animals when we arrived. Either the scientists were mistaken, or they hid the truth from us, and I didn’t know why.
It’s been almost four months that have passed since the end of National Novel Writing Month when I wrote the first 50,000 words of my second novel. Since then, I’ve only written 18,000 more, and I feel like I’m only just starting to get to the good parts. But, I’m getting hung up on those good parts.