97,430 words out since I left port to discover the ending of Volume III of the Precipice Dominions.

The evasive yet talked of landfall is definitely out there, all the evidence in my possession points to its existences, however there is ever the problem of the uncharted vastness in reaching those shores. And yet I must journey on, ever summoned by the soft siren song calling out across the distances.
There have been storms of continuity and places in which I suffered the fear of forever becalmed and the dread of a work unfinished. Sometimes I lost sight of those porpoises of plot and was left wondering if they had felt me not worth their sport, fleeting away to seek brighter and far more entertaining climes.
Ah me.

I walk the decks assailed by doubts as whether the journey is worth the effort and will there be any interest in my discovery? For out there on the enormity of the imagination are many such voyagers intent on reaching other and maybe more wonderous places.
Yet there can be no turning back, for I owe much to be joyous crew of characters whose constant chatter, antics and small amusing mutinies do keep my spirts ever focused on the dawn where lies beckoning the journey’s end.
Blow then fayre winds of inspiration and send me onwards, ever onwards.

A Salty Dog Procol Harum