When my friend tells me about NaNoWriMo, I am ecstatic. It is what every lazy writer needs; an international challenge to produce a novel in thirty days. Read on to see how it goes as I take up the challenge!
July 1999 saw one such writer, American Chris Baty, do something drastic about the lonely process that is writing. He roped his nearest and dearest in the San Francisco Bay area into a whirlwind month with a 50,000-word aim. Broken down, that is about 1,677 words a day. Phew!
Now, for most people, managing to shove that out, all golden and ready, is impossible. What with jobs to hold down, courses to attend, family to look after, social obligations, and the occasional reared head of the unexpected, who has the time? And that was it exactly, that easy excuse, hand in hand with the pressure to write something immediately brilliant. Six out of Baty’s 21 friends succeeded. They were elated, they had flirted with insanity and they had no coffee left in their kitchens but they had become novel writers - even if some of it was terrible, full of holes, littered with ninja’s, dragons on motorways and irrelevant dialogue.
Baty was on to something, and eight years later it is bigger than ever. The NaNoWriMo site is currently bursting with members from Wales to Africa. 2006 saw 79,813 participants and 12,948 winners.
Affiliating yourself with a region gives you access to a forum full of your local writers. Expect a ‘kick off party’; a community of stressed, highly creative people posting like mad, and a ‘thank God it’s over’ bash to finish it off. By choosing to throw yourself into this world, you can amble down to organized write-ins, involving groups of people in a writing frenzy tucked up in coffee shops. Leeds and York currently have 369 members alone, and it is a place to share first lines, moan over plot blocks, confess distractions, and generally weather the storm together.
So, with regular emails from successful writers and Nano Veterans, genre lounges for writers across the world to gather in, a radio station, and effectively a non-stop, twenty-four hour support system, how could I possibly fail?
By suggesting this feature, I build it up even higher. I start out on November 1st with steel determination. Having pinned up my progress chart, ordered a copy of Baty’s book - No plot? No Problem, and cornered two of my housemates into it, I was more than prepared. At least that was on day one. Baty’s step-by-step guide becomes a crossfire victim of the Postal strike, and I find myself in the busiest month of my year so far. Typing up even a hundred words feels like a marathon. I try to battle through and stay up, but I am neurotically checking the word-count every other sentence and the concept of not really having a plan is near paralyzing me.
The entire point of having to produce such a large amount of words is the concept of quantity over quality; a truly terrific mess. It is a guideline that smacks straight into my problem - being too precious. It is hard to break the habit of writing and editing, subjecting each line to immediate scrutiny and grooming it up. I cringingly drag myself away from shocking paragraphs, from dialogue that belongs firmly in a Mills and Boon story. And it hurts. I make another, crucial hiccup, twice in fact. I read it out loud, not only to my mother, but also to my critical, creative writing course buddies. Ouch. I know it is rubbish, in fact I introduce it as such, but a few paragraphs in and I find myself wincing so badly I cannot go on. But why is it such a terrible thing, that my forced, first draft will not end up being home to the Man Booker Prize?
The third of November and the ‘Notes’ section of my pinned up chart is covered in swear words. But, alas, Baty’s book arrives, which I herald as my bible. Reading a little way in, constantly reassured over how badly I am expected to write, and I manage to push out another 3000 words, due to being so far behind. I discover Facebook has a Nano application where everyone can see just how well or terribly I am doing, and stupidly add it. I also read that only seventeen percent of writers complete the challenge in time. At this point it occurs to me that the most important thing is doing it, having a catastrophe of pages and wading through it in December to see if there is anything remotely salvageable.
By the end of the first week, one friend admits defeat and another cuts their goal down to a more realistic 25,000. There is only two of us left determined to slog it out, but our text messages are growing ever more desperate and I am nearly 5,000 words off the weekly quota. I head for the website and stare angrily at the countdown clock, as yes, it is truly mocking me.
I have two crazily productive days in the second week thanks to energy drinks and the group morale of a write-in. Unable to rope anyone else with me, I went nervous and alone to Costa and found a bunch of quirky writers to share my woes with. No, we did not get much done. It was mostly about coffee and distracting each other. We laughed at being behind, stared wide eyed at one girl on 40,ooo, who announced she might as well write two, and generally felt better about it all.
I write to you now at the end of week two, where I have been told to give up a lot, and to shed a few tears over my workload. At only 3,000 words behind, it is commendable, and I am even managing to chain down a realistic plot (sort of). I am sleeping at strange hours, craving high fat food, experiencing delirium and tripping out on my dreams. But I am half way! I will update you on my success next issue, and we will see if this novel in a month lark is actually possible - without becoming institutionalized.
http://www.nanowrimo.org/
