I do not recommend following my example today: I scrapped all of my NaNo work so far and decided on a new topic. Why? Because I really didn't like the way my story was proceeding, and instead of just running with it, I started on a completely screwball tangent that got out of control. Now, we're not so far along in the month that this is an impossible thing to recover from, but it is going to be difficult for me to get back on track. I don't even have a title for my new project, but I think I'll manage to make it. If not, then I won't succeed at NaNo. Wouldn't be the first time. Besides, NaNo is all about the journey.
Now, I remember promising a story for all of you today; a conclusion of the exercise I put up not too long ago, so here you have it: The Brixton Correspondence
The following is a record of communication between investigative journalist Steve Brixton and one Roddy Tavish, a mail clerk for Carmichel Analytics, Inc.
June 20, 1993
Hey, Steve, hope I got the mailing address right. My name's Roddy Tavish. We spoke on the phone a few months ago. Not sure if you'd really remember me. You were trying to dig up information on that guy, Robert Dorlan, right? You said he used to work for the company, and I didn't really have much to say about it. Well, he just started getting mail. A lot of mail. Like, bags and bags of it. I've been sorting through it, and I think there's something weird about it. There's no junk mail, and there aren't any return addresses. Was he being threatened or something? I'll try to hold onto it, since he doesn't have an office here anymore, but I don't know how much longer I can keep it here.
-Roddy Tavish
June 22, 1993
Thank you for getting me into the mail room yesterday, Roddy. It was a big leap forward for the piece that I'm writing. I'm sorry, but I need you to keep my involvement a secret. And I need a favor. Can you find out the last day that Dorlan worked? I don't care how you find out, but I need that information. I'll pay you for your time. Just get it to me.
Brixton
June 23, 1993 [Date found on a Post-It note attacked to a notecard bearing the following text]
How much?
[Signed on the back]
RT
June 25, 1993
Funny trick you did there, getting that card into my jacket. When did you do that? Maybe I just didn't see you, but how the hell did you find me? Don't do that again. I can give you $150, more that enough for for finding out someone's last day at work.
P.S. I mean it. Never again.
Brixton
June 28, 1993
I don't know what you're talking about. What card? I don't think it really matters. I got the information you need. Meet me at the coffee shop at the end of North Washington Ave. The one by the warehouses. July 2nd, 8:00 P.M.
-Roddy
July 3, 1993
It was interesting seeing you again, Roddy. Are you feeling okay? You looked exhausted, but I didn't want to mention it. Thank you, though. Those punch times were exactly what I needed to finish this article up. If everything goes well, I should be able to wrap this up within a few weeks. Thanks again for the help.
P.S. Try to get some sleep. You looked like you could need it.
Brixton
September 9, 1993
I can't believe this! He was a murderer? He was a murderer and you never told me? And you know what's weirder? His mail keeps on coming. You saw it on his times. He worked for two days! Two days back in April, and his mail didn't start until late June. It still hasn't stopped. Still nothing but envelopes with his name on them. What should I do?
-Roddy
September 16, 1993
Roddy,
Sorry it took so long to get back to you, but I've been getting a lot of mail about that article. The whole thing was true, though. I'll give you just the facts, you can tell me if you think I was wrong.
1. Rupert Dorlan had only one paper trail: The two days he worked at Carmichael Analytics. I still have no idea why.
2. After his second day at work, Dorlan resigned.
3. Dorlan's car was last seen idling outside of a funeral home three miles north of the Carmichael Analytics office.
4. Dana Murdoch stepped into Dorlan's car after it had been idling for fifteen minutes.
5. On April 20, 1993, Dana Murdoch's body was found in an abandoned steel mill.
6. A letter sent by a man claiming to be Rupert Dorlan led to the discovery of her body, claiming that he had been responsible for Dana Murdoch's death.
7. Despite the letter, Dorlan refused to speak at his trial, save to plead "not guilty". He was convicted and sentenced to death.
8. Before the sentence could be carried out, Dorlan died in his cell. His guards believed that he chewed off his own tongue.
9. Dorlan's tongue was never found.
So, given all of that, and the fact that he has no living relatives, who the hell would be sending him mail, Roddy?
Brixton
[Date unknown. Written on a notecard in handwriting identified as that of Roddy Tavish]
They're all empty.
-RT
September 23, 1993
Are you just not mailing me back, Mister Brixton? I didn't mean to accuse you of anything with my last letter, I was just very stressed. You sounded so angry on the phone when you called last week. Did you get that bag of letters? I sent them just like you asked.
-Roddy
September 26, 1993
What the hell are you talking about, Roddy? I never called you. Also, what did you mean by that strange notecard? What do you mean "they're all empty"?
Brixton
October 1, 1993
Mister Brixton, we need to talk in person. Something strange is happening. Meet me at the office. I need to speak to you.
[This was the last letter sent between Roddy Tavish and Steve Brixton. They were found dead in the mail room of Carmichael Analytics on the morning of October 4, 1993. Their death was ruled a double suicide, and no evidence of the letters Mr. Tavish referenced has been found. The case is still being considered an ongoing investigation.]
Okay, I know. That was lame. There wasn't much of a conclusion, and I'm several days late. Like I said, rebooting a NaNo project almost a week in is a terrible idea, and I'm sorry that I ever did it. After this is all over, I'm going to go back and remove the suck from this story, maybe even give it a proper ending, exposition, and antagonist. Still, this is what happens with rush work, and it's good to accumulate this type of writing. Helps to cultivate new ideas. Every sentence that goes down on paper (or the screen) in fiction writing has the potential to be great. The above story didn't really live up to that, but with revision, it might even become readable. Tomorrow, I'll have a less grueling exercise; maybe one that some people will even participate in.
This is Rosenbloom, signing off.
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