NaNoWriMo: The Fallout

My hearty congratulations to all NaNoWriMo Participants, and particularly the winners. Well done! With your fancy little certificate of authentication it's now official, you're all crazy.

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A snippet from Lawrence Kasdan's The Big Chill (lifted from The War of Art by Steven Pressfield):

MICHAEL

Don't knock rationalization. Where would we be without it? I don't know anyone who can get through a day without two or three juicy rationalizations. They're more important than sex.

SAM

Aw, come on! Nothing's more important than sex.

MICHAEL

Oh yeah? Have you ever gone a week without a rationalization?


(that quote never gets old) I'm still Reeling from my lackadaisical showing at WriMo, here's my contribution to the wonderful world of rationalization:


Doing NaNoWriMo for me was like trying to sprint a marathon, when all I'm used to is a light walk. Have I mentioned that I don't like writing fast. Strangely I don't think it was the required pace that did me in (not fully anyway), story choice and method may have had something to do with it. While my writing is often typified by random disconnected narratives, which when you think about it would be perfect fodder for a NaNoWriMo novel, a realm where coherence isn't the highest priority on the agenda, I decided to go against type and as a result regrettably my story suffered a premature death.


The autopsy shows that half way through the month I had about a half as much written as I should of at that time. Closer inspection reveals that this story had more insulation than an Alaskan granny flat. At 12,000 words it was already over padded. Deep down if you trimmed away the fat there's a nifty little short story waiting. I was working with a high concept idea which set up a frame work that was limited in scope and incapable of sustaining 50,000 words (of course that doesn't mean you can't have novels that are high concept, it just happened that this one wasn't suited to the initial idea). Lesson one: Know your enemy, short story premises do not make good long stories. Choose your form wisely.


"Plot is the good writer's last resort and the dullard's first choice" says one Stephen King. Although highly inexperienced in the art of writing I have a pretty good feeling about how I might be most effective; there are surely as many creative processes as there are creators, mine is not given to the King method (i.e. write at least 2000 words a day, overhaul on the second draft, give it a spit and polish the third time around, ship to a publisher, make millions of dollars). That's not me, an extra bit of cash would be nice, but I like to know where I'm going before I hit the road. Next stop: dullardsville.


There's a great old anecdote about James Joyce: a friend walks in on him after a day of writing, James looks displeased, "How's the writing" the friend asks, "I've got two sentences." answers Joyce, "Well that's good [by your standards], why so glum then?" "I've got the words" says Joyce "I just can't figure out the right order." ... That's the kind psychological torture I like to experience every time I write, and if I'm writing by the seat of my pants the brutal impact of hard thinking is mildly diluted. I want to viscerally feel the entire brunt of my own creative consternation. Writing is different from talking in that no one can hear you stutter when you're at a keyboard. There, you have the luxury of cherry picking what words you think would best represent the world you're trying to create.


I think Muhammad Ali said best what I'm trying to say here "I don't know much about fighting, just about me fighting." and he is widely regarded as the greatest heavy weight boxer of all time (note: sub writing for fighting). I don't know much about art , but I know what I like, and what I like is not having daily word limits. A time limit, now that I can work with. Also, If I'm writing a story with a beginning, middle and end, then I'd prefer to do a lot of the heavy lifting before I start the first draft. Lesson two: Know thyself. Just because the most successful author on earth writes one way doesn't mean you have to, find a process that works for you.

And so I finished up my first NaNoWriMo a broken and beaten man. I'm a little older and a little wiser in the ways of writing for it. I'll keep the lessons learned handy in my back pocket just in case. I'm sure I'll be needing them at some point.

nanwrimo post mortem

this feels brilliant -- I have an old methodology which says: start slow, finish strong, and that's what I does. I learned a great many things from this over ambitious undertaking. What stands out most is that I hate writing fast. Hated. For me there's a difference between talking and writing. Talking is a spontaneous act (unless you're a politician in which case you just need to ensure you always bring a teleprompter). Writing allows for a more deliberate, thoughtful treatment of words. NaNoWriMo isn't writing it's crapping on the page.

I like to look at it in terms of Mac or Windows. Windows develops their wares on a quick timeline and sends them out into the market finished or unfinished, doesn't really matter to them (see Vista). Apple goes for quality every time and usually hits. One day around the middle of November the penny dropped and I realised if I belabour the choice of my words anymore I'm not going to finish this damn thing. So I went all Microsoft and started crapping away (you can always release version 7.0 a short time later right?) sometimes you just need to drop your standards, but what wondrous crap I've wrought, crap like you wouldn't believe. It wasn't fun, but it was worth it I almost even like writing fast now, so time to start polishing up my crap --. Oh wait, this didn't actually happen yet, back to the writing.

*Me releasing words into the wild* "Fly my pretties, fly!"

a progress report for your unending entertainment

I may pass the magical quintuple digit barrier tonight. Meaning that I'll only be 15,ooo words off target. I'm transcribing the myth of the extinction of the dinosaurs related to me by Quinton Fitzgerald Olberstaff, an obscure member of the British Royal Society. He did his best work during the 19th century. He's really old. I'm not sure if I'll mention him too much in the story proper, but apparently he was the missing link in a previous life, during which time he engineered the extinction of the dinosaurs unleashing the most voracious genocidal midget t-rex that ever lived on the super-continent of Pangaea. Mr. Olberstaff continually assures me that I'm not making this up.

hope prevails

Imagine a world where it takes 20 minutes to load Microsoft word document.
Welcome to my world...

He felt an internal vice slowly crushing his intestinal tract, sending distress signals to his extremities. Responding would incur a net cost of at least $2000. Consequently his primal rage would be realised in more peaceful ways. Specifically, a non-response appeared to be the only valid option, that or purchasing a boxing bag for the next laptop inspired mental melt down.

NaNoWriMo prodded his back like hooks attached to a large vehicle ready to be dragged in a vaudevillian freak display. It hurt for now, but once he overcame the initial inertia that's when the real pain would kick in.

A jump start was in order. Loren had heard of a secret cure to the condition that afflicted him. It was called work (and definitely dressed in overalls).

There had to be other possibilities. Where to seek inspiration though? Then he remembered what people in the Olympics do when they want a little extra juice in the tank. Remember the expression "this baby runs like Ben Johnson on steroids." Loren immediately began searching through his magic bag (which he'd stolen from Sport Billy). Just when he was about to give up he pricked his finger on a syringe of hypergraphia. He strapped up and got ready for a heavy dose, but as he gazed at the disturbingly large vain protruding from his arm he heard something in the distance, it sounded like hope.

He plodded slowly out into the living area. Barack Obama was just elected President of the United States of America.

A number of soundbites replayed in Loren's mind
"It doesn't matter what happens to me now, I've been to the mountain top." "Let freedom ring", "From coast to coast, from sea to shining sea", "yes, we shall overcome". "YES WE CAN."

Loren dropped the syringe, he didn't need synthetics, if he wanted it badly enough he could self- generate his own compulsive writing disorder. The world just changed, so did he.

It Begins

A pinch and a punch for the first of the month, white rabbits no returns. It's November, which means a whole lot of guys are going to grow moustaches and wanna be writers everywhere are going to kill themselves trying to spew out 2000 words a day. It's NaNoWriMo time. Can we do it? I think Obama holds answer...



Obama/Biden 08

NaNoWriMo

should I stay or should I go.
Yeeeeaah! I just wanna know
should I do NaNoWriMo.

do it, do it, do it what waiting for
do it, do it, do it what waiting for

live the dream cause it's something to see and the best thing happening is alive and free

umm, ok