Nanowrimo: Updates on My Rebellion
Yes, another writer posting about Nanowrimo. It’s kind of a thing right now.
Day ten is upon us. If you’ve followed this blog, or my Twitter, you know I took the Nano Rebel route this year. Rebel being someone who uses Nanowrimo, but doesn’t engage in all the official rules of same. To that end, I opted to write 50,000 words worth of short stories this month, as opposed to a novel. I thought I’d share how it’s going so far.
Without a doubt, it’s a different experience. At first I didn’t think it would necessarily feel much different than all of the previous Nanowrimos I’ve taken part in. I guess I should have known better than that, though, since any other time writing short fiction requires a different rhythm than writing a novel. Yet because of the required pace and lack of constant editing that makes Nano what it is, I speculated that 50,000 words for several first drafts would come about in the same fashion as 50,000 words for one long first draft.
My speculation was incorrect.
Allow me to state that as of right now, I am still on pace to “win” Nano this year. I’ve met the daily word quota each day of November so far. Yet unlike Nanowrimos past, I find I’m only getting just to, or just beyond the daily minimum of words. Part of that may be general fatigue, heaven knows. I can’t discount that. However, the nature of the writing is probably a more significant contributor to the “skin of teeth” nature of the first few days.
Set Nano aside for a minute. When you write a novel, you by nature have some exploring to do. Flesh out characters or establish the scene. A novel not only allows for, but in many way requires elaboration. Whether you outline a novel first, or just dive right into one as a so-called “pantser”, the length and purpose of the novel permits a certain degree of delving into the material, especially during the first draft. You can take the long way home.
Short stories, however, by definition, have to get to the point more quickly than a novel. They can be literary, highly descriptive, even wordy, but whatever it is they are designed to do, they have to do it in less time with less information than a novel. Each sentence in a short story carries more influence and power than does that of a novel. That’s fine when you’re writing a short story under normal circumstances. During Nano, however, it means you better have at least some idea of how to get to the story’s meaning from the time you begin. True, you can indeed “pants” your way through a short story, and I have done some of that. Yet even pantsing needs to be somewhat more reigned in under this conditions, I dare say.
As I write short stories for Nano, (I have completed five so far), I have to come up with an arc and resolution several times over, instead of building just one arc and one conclusion, as I do when writing a novel in 30 days. (Even if I don’t finish it, this is the M.O.) S I’m finding there is more pressure to no what a story is doing as i write it, than I do with a novel. And the pressure arrives sooner in the process.
It’s particularly noticeable to me, because in many cases, I have no specific length I’m shooting for in my short fiction. I’ve not said I will write only 2,000 word stories for Nano. (That would be even more difficult in some ways.) So when I begin a story, I’m not sure how many words I’ll take up. Two of the stories are in fact 5,000 words. Two others were written within just the daily word minimum for Nano. Not knowing how much lies ahead of me before a story is finished adds to the pressure somewhat.
I could of course, just write two long-short stories. I could continue to write a short story and let it go on and on until I got to 50,000 words. It would still qualify as a short story, by many metrics. But what it would not do is accomplish anything different than the previous years I’ve taken the Nanowrimo challenge. At least, that’s how it seems to me. But like I said, I’m not putting limits on the short story word counts. The very next one I write might just be 30,000 words. I doubt it though. I’m certainly not aiming for that.
The challenge is being in a new world with a new set of characters every few days, instead of staying with the same set over the course of a month. In theory, I should be able to just pound out the words each day, no matter what those words are about. Yet I’m finding that it’s not as easy to ignore editing tendencies and content judgement with short stories as it is with a novel. I have a whole new completed product every few days, you see. Good or bad, I have been “finished” five times so far, and each of those stories is now, officially, in second draft territory. I of course am not working on the second drafts yet, but I’m not building toward a first draft this year as I do most years, and that has, I think, given this Nano a different feel to me. More pressure on different creative muscles.
In the end, that, I suppose, is the point of any Nano. From that perspective I’m glad there is a bit of an extra challenge to it this year. I believe I will achieve the word goal as I do each year I do this. But it doesn’t seem like it will be a blow out this time. I’ve had to work harder at it. Just as last year I had to work harder at finishing a whole plot in 30 days. (That was the first time I’d done that.) There was an extra sense of satisfaction last year when I accomplished that new goal. I imagine it will feel extra satisfying this year too when I complete this rebel approach.
That, in the end, is what it’s all about.
Don’t Practice Not Writing
Writing methods, as with any creative endeavor are for the most part, “to each his own.” No one creative process is superior to another. Advice is just that, advice. Advice from successful people may carry a bit more weight for a time, and it may help you a great deal. Yet no matter who gives it, it’s just advice. Do what works for you.
That being said, my instinct is that certain advice, while possibly helpful to a few, are more likely to be problematic. I don’t say that in order to cast myself as a sage, but only to ironically, offer my own advice on them. Not a warning, per se, but considerations.
Today, I’m pondering the advice many give about sitting down with your paper or computer no matter what when it’s time to write. By extension, this means that if writing time is 3PM to 4PM each day, some sit with their tools, even if they have no ideas. That is the writing hour, and though you’re tired or out of ideas, you must, so goes this method, sit in front of the computer for that time. Discipline. Even if you write nothing the entire time.
I humbly submit that for the majority of writers and would-be writers, following this advice does more harm than good.
Write every day at the same time? Sure, I’m all for that. I don’t do it myself, but the concept makes perfect sense to me. Yet sitting in front of your blank screen or page for that hour when nothing presents itself is, I think, counterproductive at best and harmful to creativity at worst. Great things sometimes come under duress, I can’t deny it. What is a deadline after all but a tiny form of forcing the issue? But to stare off into the void of you own (temporary) inability to produce a single word only serves to reflect your dry spell back at yourself, enhanced. It’s putting a gun to your own head and saying, “you better write this, damn you.” Taking writing lessons from Misery isn’t the best thing to do.
I kid, somewhat, of course, when I say that. Yet I’m in earnest when I advise against forcing yourself into confronting your inability to write at any given moment. You’re only human, after all, and you are going to have a bad day, or even a bad couple of days with your novel. (Or whatever piece you are working on right now.)
Another way of putting it is that by sitting in front of your writing tools for that hour without writing, you practice not writing. You need to practice writing.
Consider: you need your physical exercise, and are just not feeling it today. Sitting in the gym parking lot looking through the window because this is your “gym day” is discipline gone fruitless. It does nothing. You can either give yourself a day off, or you can get moving and hope that once you start, the inertia will shift and you’ll get your workout in. (Which is what happens most of the time anyway.)
What you do during an off day at the gym, you can do with writing. Okay, so your short story isn’t coming to you today, yet you are a stickler for 3PM to 4PM being writing time. Write a long email to someone. Write a poem. Write a blog post or something nobody will ever read. A diary entry. An open letter to somebody, like I do every other week. (Though I forgot last week…) If you must write every single day at the same time, make sure that is what you do. Don’t dedicate writing time to the act of being unable to write.
Writing is about momentum. It’s about getting something done, even if it isn’t your main project at the moment. The more you do it, the easier it becomes. So, I mean no offense at all to those who feel that keeping “butt in chair” is vital, even if one is writing nothing. For my money, however, if it isn’t coming, it isn’t coming. If you refuse to write anything but your current project when the words aren’t coming, go do something else. That walk you could be taking or that movie you could be watching, or even that paperwork you could be filling out is better for you than succumbing to the silence of having nothing to write. Besides, any of those activities and a million others may just get you writing again anyway.
Nanowrimo This Way Comes
I mentioned before that I’d once again be doing Nanowrimo this year, but that I’d be going for rebel status. In other words, not technically following the rules, but using the time anyway to get things done and maybe meet some people online. I’m talking about it now, because Thursday I have another Open Letter post due up, so this is the last blog day before Nano starts.
This year I opted to do a collection of short stories. Or at least 50,000 words of same during November. When I first made this decision, I didn’t know if the stories would be connected by so common theme, or if I would just write as many different short stories as I could, with no connection. I decided to go with a common thread for the stories. I’m also down to two choices as to what that thread will be. (Leaning strongly in the direction of one of them, as of this writing.) Who knows, though, might change my mind between now and Saturday.
I won’t be revealing my choices, though. I know how disappointed you all must be to read that, but I wanted to keep the decision “pure” in the sense that I didn’t want other people knowing to in anyway influence what theme I’m going with. Once i do decide and start writing, I may reveal what my common thread for the stories is, or I might not. That too is, for the moment, undecided. Again, I think it might feel more fun to me personally if only I know what the common denominator is. On the other hand, it may be difficult to talk about my progress in the forums or here on the blog if I don’t reveal more. We will see.
I have a sub-goal for Nano this year as well; I want to engage with the community online more. I always try to, through twitter and the message boards, but I’ve not been great at it, really. I’m hoping to post on the forums a bit more often, and just in general feel more a part of things online. Last year I attended a few write-ins at the local library, and those were fun, but I didn’t connect with any of the people there after the fact. (Except for someone I know from elsewhere.) I don’t know that there are any local write-ins this year, so I am going to see what i can get done by way of connecting online.
Maybe I will do word sprints on Twitter here and there. Never did those before, as I am not a fast writer. But I’m being a Nano Rebel, so I might consider doing all kinds of other things differently this year.
If any of you are doing Nano and would like to add me as a friend on the site, my handle is TyUnglebo. Feel free to say hi, and mention you read my blog if you do!
It’s Not Always the Author’s Business.
When I write fiction, I’m more of a planner. Yet even I don’t know everything about the worlds or characters I create.
There are authors who do detailed character sketches and outlines of their settings. I do that sometimes, but not usually. And even when I do it, I don’t necessarily have a bunch of secrets tucked away about things that happened behind the scenes in my story, or before and after it.
Why not? Two reasons. The first is that the information may not be necessary for me to write the story. If I know enough to justify a trait or a decision, I know enough, I’d say.
The other reason I don’t know every single thing about my characters or stories, (and one that sometimes shocks people when I tell them) is that it isn’t always any of my business.
You haven’t misunderstood that sentence.
I used it at a writing group once a few years ago. Most of the members liked my story about two people that didn’t get along much, but nonetheless began flirting near the end of the story. The story ended without showing any romance between the two.
“So do they end up together?’ asked one of the readers.
“He may not want to reveal that,” said someone else.
I told them, “It’s not that it’s a secret. It’s that I don’t know. It’s none of my business, really.”
That got a strange look or two, but I think most of them understood.
For me, a story can be self contained. Meaning that I as an author see only a sliver of the entire lives of the people in it. I search the ether for these few moments or days or years within the universe I’ve written about, and I provide that story to the reader in words. Like any author, I decide a lot of what happens. But also like a lot of authors, I find that some things simply unfold on their own. It’s hard to explain to a non-writer, but every writer out there is bound to know what I mean. There are times when the story or at least a scene, suggests itself to the author, and our job is just to make sure we get it correct.
When I do get it correct at such moments, I tend not to overuse my author power. I could dictate what happens next in my mind, for my own satisfaction. I could decide that every blade of grass in every field of my universe has, is, and will forever do what I’ve determined. Yet for me, that’s too much in most cases. Just as in life when we pass through an experience, we don’t always know everything that comes before or after it, so is it with my stories. If the story was supposed to reveal a certain fact or action, I like to think I would have put it in there. But once it feels done, I sometimes only know a small percentage more of what lies beyond the edges than readers do. I think the story is more alive that way.
If I write a series, I of course have to know more. I also have to have a bit more of an idea about the past of the characters in a novel than I do in shorter fiction. Yet some of it remains a secret. More than that, it’s a secret what remains a secret; I don’t always tell readers if I know or if I don’t know.
What fun would that be?
Ty Unglebower 