To NaNo or Not To NaNo…

There is no wrong decision.

Photo by Estée Janssens on Unsplash

Every November, thousands of writers around the globe dive into the wild and glorious National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo) on-line, creative-writing adventure. Each writer attempts to write a new 50,000 word novel manuscript between November 1 and November 30.

Freelance writer Chris Baty initiated NaNoWriMo in 1999 with 21 participants in the San Francisco Bay area. By 2017, NaNoWriMo had exploded to over 400,000 participants around the world.

I heard about NaNoWriMo when it was toddling into gargantuan endeavor. Immediately, I was hooked by the concept, although I had never written a novel, hadn’t attempted even a short story in decades.

Who could resist this challenge?

Not me.

I went for it.

And it was the longest and shortest, best and worst November of my life.

I learned exactly what it takes to develop a story and carry it forward day after day, pounding out my daily goal of 1,667 words. There were days when the words flowed easily and days when I despaired of writing even 10 words.

That first year, I won.

I did not follow the submission protocol to correctly submit and claim goodies, but I did complete 50,000 words by November 30. It was a ragged, misshapen story, but it kind of held together well enough and only one or two characters changed names and eye color as they lived the story.

I decided to write a 50,000 word novel between November 1 and November 30 and somehow, some way, I made it happen.

The thrill of that first win still resonates deep in my heart.

I’ve taken up the NaNoWriMo challenge every year since then. Each one is its own unique experience. Some of the stories don’t make me cringe. However, each and every story is precious to me.

A NaNoWriMo novel is as much a personal challenge as it is a public enterprise. Do you have what it takes to write 50,000 words even when you’re tired or the baby kept you up all night or your boss wants you to work an extra shift? Do you have the courage to battle old and new demons challenging your talent, your story, your ability to keep going no matter what happens?

I’ve taken the challenge many times. Each time is its own set of demons and confounding puzzles, but it’s gotten easier. Just knowing that I’ve done it before and emerged victorious bolsters my resolve when things are looking very, very bad.

I’ve met writers who participate in NaNoWriMo every year — sometimes winning, sometimes not, sometimes going on to publish their novel. We share the same giddy awe at the monstrous 50,000 and talk about tricks, incentives, attitude, whatever we use to make it.

NaNoWriMo is not for everyone. Some writers know it’s not for them when they first learn about it. It’s too fast, too much pressure, too much something that they don’t want to do. Some people know that they are going to have to bail before 50,000 and don’t want to head down a road they’re going to abandon.

However, everyone who participates in NaNoWriMo gains insight they would not have achieved any other way.

Participants may come to realize:

• You are not a novelist, never ever ever want to be a novelist. You’re going to stick to reading novels. Or better yet, watching movies made from novels. Or just movies with fast cars, rockets, and things that blow up.
• You prefer short stories or flash fiction. As you slog through the days, you wonder if fifty 1,000 word pieces would satisfy the challenge. Because if it did, you have some amazing bits to gather under a huge umbrella.
• November flies by or slogs along — depending on how you’re doing. NaNoWriMo transforms the dimensions of time and how you use every minute of each day. You get to take a close look at all the stuff and nonsense you do every day because….Why? This can be a life-changing experience.
• Your emotions run amok: some days you are high on exhilaration and exultation while other days are trudges through deep, glowering depression, anxiety, and despair.
• You have a marvelous indisputable excuse not to do anything you don’t want to do. Your muse must be honored, cajoled, and cherished. Your social standing may gain if you’re a writer attempting the impossible.
• Tending the muse provides an ironclad reason to binge on your favorite excess: Netflix, chocolate, wine, working out, napping, updating social media, whining about having to write your novel.
• You develop powerful delegation skills. Someone else can cook dinner, walk the dog, do the laundry. And it doesn’t have to just be in November, while you’re flailing your way through words.
• You love writing novels. Now that you’ve done this awkward, terrible manuscript, you want to learn how to write a good novel.You’re committed to studying, workshopping, finding a writer’s group.
• Your writing has improved dramatically, shocking you and entertaining others. Your words flow and your stories hang together better than they ever have. What’s more, you have deepened your ability to sustain story and work long and hard on a project.
• November is the worst month you have ever lived, having to face once and for all your failure to write a novel, to finish anything creative and worthwhile in your life.You used to love this month and now it’s gone and you’re shoved into wind-whipped, chafing winter.
• You dread the start of every day, knowing that you’re beginning with a stark word deficit that only you can address.
• You may come to despise writing, beating yourself up for ever getting into this stupid thing. You might develop physical symptoms, too, starting with eyestrain and aches from pounding a keyboard or scrawling your story by hand.
• The grand and glorious story idea that you have always dreamed of writing turns out to be a mewling pipsqueak with not much to say, nothing of interest to anyone but itself. Your heart is broken. It was your dearest and most treasured fantasy. And now it’s gone.
• You miss seeing your loved one, family, and friends. Your dog gives you hard looks.
• You miss doing nothing and having nothing to show for it.
• This failed adventure adds to your huge pile of well-intentioned creative projects that never went anywhere. Your loser persona is solid, reinforced, tremendously tragic.
• You don’t have time to learn how to play the banjo or to chop wood and gather provisions for the hard winter ahead. Your skates are dull and your skis need waxing, but you’re too busy staring at a glowing screen.
• This was the best dumb thing you ever did. You cannot wait until next year — or better yet, to participate in one of the Camp NaNoWriMo events that take place during the year. Where are the marshmallows?

I am debating doing NaNoWriMo this year. I have a story in mind, but I don’t know…

…But how can I not?

It’s been superb triumph and stunning shocks — and there is nothing like it.

Here’s another thing about NaNoWriMo. I set out to write a balanced piece about something I’ve enjoyed doing but did not intend to do this year.

I just may have talked myself into it.

Be careful, very careful, about what you write.

“A goal is not always meant to be reached; it often serves simply as something to aim at.” Bruce Lee