Nanowrimo began in 1999 as a challenge to spur creativity. The task set was simply to write a 50,000 word novel in the period of 30 days. Simple? Yes. Easy? Not quite. But since that first year, the challenge is reissued beginning November 1st. It's become more formalized, garnered big name companies to sponsor it, grown its brand , and added supplemental challenges throughout the year in order to keep people creating and taking the next steps to nurture their novel into creation.
I love the idea of writing a novel in a month (which breaks down to 1,667 words a day) and have begun several Novembers with my hopes high as I officially declared my intentions at my project at Nanowrimo.org. No, I was never quite as prepared as I'd hoped I'd be, and yet, I had a dream each year that this would be the year when things came together and the words flowed out of me. Just like they had with Jack Kerouac. Genius in three weeks? Fucking doable! And I had an entire extra week to write my novel. It felt practically luxurious. And yet, inevitably, the world got in the way, I started off great, many times writing more than my quota, but eventually I missed a day, which often became two, and in the meantime the 1,667 words kept stacking up like a terrifying avalanche of words I would never be able to climb out of.
My last attempt was in 2020, and in spite of pre-ordering the winner's t-shirt, I did not finish. The shirt arrived and I couldn't ever wear it because I'd know it was a lie, and if someone asked me about it it would remind me of all my broken promises. And yet, I remain hopeful! I've started at least three novels, two of which I got pretty deep into before falling in love with another cute lil' idea for a novel went traipsing by, luring me to follow it with its promises of a joyous romp at the computer, writing away. After all, it wasn't me that was the problem! It wasn't my work habits, or my outsized expectations, nor was it my over attachment to results over process. It was just that the story hadn't been great enough when it came right down to it. It wasn't perfect, and I could not execute it perfectly.
Rational me knows that no rough draft is perfect, but the wistful, yearning version of me still worries and thinks that if the story were truly meant to be born, it would make it easy on me. This rarely happens. And some of the greatest novels were born out of a desperate struggle and loads of hand wringing, brow beating and self flagellation. Again, the rational side of me knows that too. And lately, all sides of me have been hearing the message that it doesn't matter how brilliant your book is if it remains in your head. In fact, the worst novel is better than the best "in my head" book, because that supposedly terrible, but finished novel can still be picked up and handed to a reader, who may end up making more of the novel in their imagination than it would have been on its own, unread.
So this year my New Year's Resolution was simple. Finish the book I've been working on for the past five years. No more going back to the beginning to clarify my choices before I continue (this is how I have ended up with four different versions of the the first 20,000 words of a novel, none of which was necessarily better than the other, they were just parallel words with slightly different paths trod). This was my year to finish a novel. Finally.
Of course, I decided to start the project by going back to the beginning one last time, It was a trap, yes, but trodding back to the beginning did get me back into the groove of the story I was writing. And re-reading those first pages helped me realize that, actually, a lot of it was pretty damn readable. No good on its own, only possibly good as a part of the whole, but it was encouraging. It was also a reminder of just how little my tortured writer's mind could be trusted while I was in the trenches working away and cursing each click of the keyboard. I struggled away, day after day, joined a writer's meetup, tracked my slow but steadily growing word count, and when April came along and I saw that the same people who had brought Nanowrinmo had branded April as Nanofinno (AKA National Novel FINISHING Month) I took the plunge. I committed to 50,000 words by April 30th, and I wrote every day.
Did I struggle? Yes. Exactly two weeks in I had a revelation. I needed to change my "1st Plot Point". That was the key to all of my struggles! Of course, if I changed that then it meant that all of the prior pages were setting up a plot point that was now completely different. So I was just going to have to go back to the beginning, right? Or no. I mean, up to that point I had been keeping tracks of all the possible alternate paths I had in mind, things I might want to change in edits, and then sailing resolutely onward. For example, if Linda became Jillian? No problem! Make a note and sail ONWARD! But this revelation seemed like a game changer. I couldn't even begin to see how I couldn't continue. In a way it was lucky that I'd been in this situation before because I was able to convince myself to stay in a holding pattern just long enough for the so-called revelation (also known as an illusion, a distraction, a mirage) clarity would return. And it did. It helped that I'd confided in some fellow writers who knew the struggle, and coached me through my doubts and second guessing.
At some point I realized that I was more than 40,000 words into my novel, and yet, had barely gotten through a quarter of my planned story's outline. Disheartening? Yes. Had I overwritten? Yes. Did it mean I might write my 50,000 words and only be halfway through the book? Yes. But also no. Because there was really no way of knowing until I'd reached the end.
And by April 30th, I had written 50,323 words more than I had at the beginning of the month. The novel is currently 79,000 words and theres' still a ways to go until my ending, but that is ok. Once it's complete so much will come into focus. I have faith. And just as important as the fact is that I've gotten closer to my novel's completion, is the fact that I set a creative goal and I kept it in spite of everything. I built up a little more trust in myself, aI found out which times of day and where I write best, and I've built up a practice which has made me more and more empowered, and makes it easier and easier to say to myself "Just sit at the desk and see what happens."And those lessons (plus the fact that I now feel justified in occasionally slipping on that t-shirt I'd purchased last November) were worth it.
