It’s nearly upon us. The web is abuzz with literary twitter (not that other kind, this is…well, it has no capital “T”) over the month of November and what it means for writers all over the world. It’s NaNoWriMo, folks, and during November hundreds upon thousands of writers sit down at their laptops or desktops or notebooks or typewriters or whatever they have, and they write. A ton. Within 30 days thousands who started will have completed a novel of not less that 50 thousand words, a daily average of just a hair over 1,666 words per day.
Last year was my first year for NaNo, after having laughed it off as either “stupid” (What? Those people think they can write a REAL novel in 30 days?? Please!), or “too hard” (That’s too hard!). I actually ended the month with 76 thousand words (gadzooks!), but wasn’t finished with the novel. I chipped away at it over the next several months, and finally put the triple-pound on it at 92,165 words in June 30th. (See how much faster you work when they only give you a month to do things?)
I had an excellent time last year, met a lot of great people, and realized that *gasp!* I actually COULD write a novel! It’s not a great one, but I did write one. I guess I’m officially a novelist, even if said novel is a rough draft that not even I am very excited about ever looking at again.
So, your fresh, newly-minted amateur novelist is all fired up about NaNo again this year. I’ve been visiting the forum (at the sight handily linked above nothatI’mtryingtoencourageyoutogothereoranything) and posting about our kickoff meeting and the various write-ins around the city that we’ll be having throughout the month, but despite all my enthusiasm, I have one nagging problem. I have no story idea. Nothing, zero, empty.
Oh, sure, I have some ideas, but it seems that, while I’ve been gorging myself on some pretty fantastic short works by a number of authors from the West Coast (Charles Beaumont and everyone connected with him notthatI’mtryingtoencourageyoutoreadhimoranything) it seems to have gotten me into short story mode, and all of my ideas can be wrapped up in about twenty pages or so. Twenty pages is just a *little* bit shy of the 175-page tome that I must turn out by November’s end.
I’ve been reading Writer’s Digest a bit lately, and thinking about what I’m wanting to do. Writing has taken a back seat lately to all the visual arts I’ve been working on, but it’s not like I haven’t been doing absolutely no writing whatsoever. Journaling should count for something, shouldn’t it? No? Um…apparently not, not where this endeavor is concerned, anyway.
I hope by November 1st that something shows up. It was fun last year. I’d like it to be fun this year, but I don’t know how I can do that if I’m sitting there going, “Okay, I have a character, this guy, and he….he needs to do………..something…………..”
Wish me luck, kids, and my hat is off to those of you who join me on the journey this year.
Of course journaling counts. You’re greasing the wheels when you journal. Submerge yourself in the writing world again, my friend! It will all be an inspiration, and you’ll probably be surprised about what you come up with in the next month.
I would imagine that a write-in is powerful stuff, like it must give you a good writing boost. Seems like there would be too much creative energy floating around for some of it to not rub off on you.
Well, the Artist’s Way says, “We write to right things,” so I’m doing something constructive and good for me when I do it, I just don’t know what it is. I’m sure it’s like exercising, and it matters that I do it every day. I just emailed with a girl who has been journaling since she was in grade school, and she’s somewhere in her early 20s now. I’m so jealous. She says she has boxes and boxes of journals now. Again with the jealous.
Write-ins are fab, one of the greatest things about NaNo. The rest of the year you pretty much sit by yourself and write, but for one glorious month you get to gather together somewhere with caffeine or food or whatever, and form this combined dynamo of creative energy amassed from a group of folks who are focused on the same basic goal as you. The air buzzes, for real.