NaNoWriMo Reflections

Like thousands of writers across the country, I participated in National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo) in November. Due to a series of unfortunate events, including my car getting broken into in a Baltimore alley (one that I park in at least three times a week), I almost didn’t. I gave up before I began, having only written 149 words by Day Five. However, when on Day Five I realized I had blogged nearly the same amount of words as my required daily quota for NaNoWriMo (1667), I told myself that noveling was a far more rewarding and worthwhile past time than blogging, and set myself to the task of catching up.

I was officially behind for about the first twenty days of November, when I suddenly surged ahead. I “finished” my novel (read: 50,169 words of it . . . after un-contracting all my contractions) four days early. It was a vomitous first draft—full of such flaws as wordiness, repetition, inadvertent rhymes, typos ("soul heir"), mixed metaphors, purple prose ("never ending slumber of death"???), meandering plot, redundancy ("ghostly apparition" ??), etc.—but it was a first draft nonetheless. It is officially the second longest piece of writing I’ve ever done, and has provided great groundwork for a significantly less flawed second draft.

My NaNoWriMo experience was most likely exactly the same as every other WriMo’s experience in that it was deeply individual. I make that seemingly self-contradictory statement on purpose, because I think that is part of the human experience: to feel exactly the same things as countless other living and dead humans, but to experience them in a state of complete self-absorption and solitude. Or maybe that’s just writers.

But in any case, a lot of time NaNoing is a lot of time spent alone. Even those occasions when I partnered up with a fellow WriMo for sessions of solidarity, we were still very much inside our own heads during much of our time together. Not only is writing “butt in chair,” it is “mind in mind.” Unlike an artist painting a figure study from a model, fiction writers create almost solely from within their own heads. A lot of time spent inside one’s mind can lead to many negative things—antisocialism, narcissism, self-consciousness, low self-esteem, etc. But it can also be a transcendental and uplifting experience, as was my NaNoWriMo experience.

I learned many things during this time, that I want to just get down in words. I’m still digesting the whole experience, but this is what I have for now:

1) Writing fast encourages you to write in a fat and bloated way; you write the way you eat on Thanksgiving—and there is great pleasure in that. But there’s a reason Thanksgiving only comes once a year. It’s not healthy to do that all the time. Something can be said for turning off your inner editor, but I say put her in the next room. Don’t send her home on an extended leave of absence.

2) Outlining would have been a really good idea. I once did the Three-Day Novel Contest, and the ONLY reason I finished was that I had an extensive outline and notes beforehand. If I had used an outline, I might not be in the position I am now, and that is the position of rewriting a second draft from scratch. I have written Chapter One three times now, and it’s still not right.

3) 1667 words a day is nothing. Stephen King recommends 2000 words a day—and we all want to be Stephen King, don’t we? (Just kidding.) If you can’t find the time to put down 1667 words a day, you don’t deserve to call yourself a writer. Harsh, I know, but I’m growing tired of the “someday” people (myself included). You’re not going to someday win the lottery and be able to quit your job and suddenly have an extra nine hours a day to devote to writing. Even if you do win the lottery, you’ll probably spend those extra nine hours a day getting really familiar with daytime television—or shopping—or (like I probably would) staring at your bank statement in orgasmic disbelief.

If you want to succeed as a writer, you should be putting in a little time every day either: writing, editing, or sending out submissions. Even if you’re not working on your novel or a short story or a poem, write something. It will be good for you and will help you develop a habit.


Right now, I’m taking a break between my first draft and the “official start” of my second draft. It’s giving me a chance to catch up on my reading (the second best thing you can do to improve your writing is to read) and also to let my mind wander around the plot and the various holes I need to tidy up. Then I’ll finish and refine my outline, which has been dribbling out slowly, and finally I’ll begin earnest work on my second draft. Around that time, Writers Block will hopefully have started back up, which no doubt will prove to be very motivating to me.