I'm not doing NaNoWriMo for two reasons. One, this manuscript wasn't eligible. 3,200 words of it were written in October, before my mother's health issues sidelined me for several weeks. Two, though I am not a NaNo doubter (see various kerfuffles of late), for my own part, every month of the year is NaNo, or should be.
If you're doing NaNo, I applaud you for engaging with the effort, practicing the ass-in-chair, and putting the words on the page. I'm a big fan of word count and finished drafts. After all, without that raw material, you have nothing to revise or sell.
Meanwhile, some WIP:
"You are a storm of swords. Even those terrible women we travel with have become frightened of you." Her voice was ragged. "I cannot defend my daughter as you defend your own children."
"I only defend because I am attacked."
"You are attacked because your defenses are so vigorous as to make you seem a danger to others."
I'd never quite thought of it that way. "Like the wave...?"
"Prince Enero's men might not talk here in Kalimpura. They have their own skins to think of. But they will sail away, and sailors will tell their tales. Tales will be retold, again and again. In a year's time, you will be known in a dozen other ports as a Selistani storm goddess. In this port, if that rumor ever crosses the rail, everyone will fear you. Everyone."
"And what people fear, they attack."
"You must make yourself less frightening." She turned, the knife in her hand quivering in a fashion that would have been a threat from almost anyone else. "Green, you frighten me, and I've seen some dreadful things."
"I've done some dreadful things," I muttered.