He gave up on writing years ago, around the same time he thought love gave up on him. For years he tried to live a normal life, to work a normal job, and to forget about his dreams. He tried to believe they were only dreams. Then out of the blue he is struck with the sudden compulsion to write a novel, and discovers a group of people who share that same goal, but who attempt to complete a first draft in under a month - and the month is about to begin! At first he talks his friends into joining him, but it isn't long before most of them give up, and he's left to struggle with his word count in seclusion. Then he loses his job, and finds himself totally rejected and alone, with nothing but time to write. He doesn't know where to begin his novel, and finds himself writing the story of a superhero just as rejected and alone as he feels... Rejection is not the end of the story though, and after being defeated by storytelling and social pressure, will he be able to find the story he was always meant to tell? The story he has always been a part of, one of magic and of love fulfilled? Or are the stories he's heard of a clock ticking down to Doomsday real? And is life worth living if you haven't a story worth telling?