NaNoWriMo, or National Novel Writing Month, is in November
every year. I’ve done it twice now. Both years, I’ve been grateful to follow
the madness with the holidays, a month notorious for not getting a lot of
writing done. I need December to recover.
Partly, it’s the intensity of the work. 50 thousand words is
the goal. I’ve averaged about 30k.
Partly, it’s being forced to learn something new. Writing is a
habit of mind and my habits are fairly ingrained.
To increase the number of
words I write in a given period, I have to change how I write. Don’t stop and mull. Don’t go back and revise. Keep moving
toward the conclusion.
I thought I understood the rules. Then, I participated in my
first write-in. Write-Ins are the writer version of boot camp. Nano peeps
gather in libraries, coffee shops, hotel lobbies, under the street light on the
corner …and they throw down. Give it all you’ve got, and then a little more.
At my local coffee shop, we cram into the back area near the
outlets. Some clever woman brings a power strip to increase our options. Every
seat is taken. Laptops up-light a wicked blue glare onto faces intent on
screens, arranged back-to-back and side-to-side. Picture an impromptu storytelling factory.
Write-Ins last a few hours. They offer the chance to focus
on your work, surrounded by people who support your goal. There’s a buddist
word for this: Tsonga--a group with like intension. Tsonga is good to have when you are doing
something as crazy as attempting to write 50k words in 30 days.
Write-Ins feature lots of fun exercises including “word wars.”
These are timed writing exercises. The object is to write as many words as
possible. Everyone competes. The winner gets bragging rights.
Now, I’ll admit right here, I hate competing. Sports, Top
Chef, class rank—you name it, I hate that kind of stuff. Count me out, if
there’s gonna be a fight. I’m Ferdinand, sitting under a cork tree, smelling
flowers.
But I entered the NaNo universe with an open mind and a plan
to try new techniques. I was curious. How fast do I write? How many words could
I write in 15 minutes?
“Word War?” Okay. I’ll play along.
This is how I met my nemesis: Alternate Universe Julie.
I took the last seat available at the Write-In, and pulled out
my battered, ancient PC. This machine takes a good 10 minutes to power up, run
its start program, open Word, open a file. My husband has been known to ask,
“Light the coal under the PC?” in the morning, meaning: Shall I start your
computer for you now, so it’s ready to go by the time you finish your coffee?
Hey. Don’t hate on my old girl. She gets the job done. I
started her up & set up my name tag.
The young woman across from me watches, curious. Her
eyebrows squeeze a little frown, as if she’s wondering what exactly I’m doing
over there with the coal. Her name tag hangs on her computer: Julie.
“Hey,” I say. “I’m Julie, too.”
She nods but I’m not sure she can hear me. She’s wearing
candy red Dr Dre headphones. Dark haired with perfect China doll bangs, she’s working
on the thinnest, sleekest Mac I’ve ever seen outside the Apple store. Maybe 20
years old, she’s a tiny thing. I can hardly see her when she ducks behind her
screen.
Six feet tall, light haired, well over 40 and working with a
technological dinosaur, I am suddenly aware we two Julies are operating in alternate
universes.
I dig around for the grey, ratty earbuds I saved from a
recent plane flight and jack into my Glee soundtrack.
Somehow, I’m betting Alternate Universe Julie is an Indie
Music Girl.
We all get down to work and after an hour or so the Write-In
Host calls for the first word war.
“Make a note of your current word count. 15 minutes! Go!”
Hmmm, okay. I can do
this. No…don’t correct! Keep going. Hmmm, what’s the word I want? No! Just throw
in any word. Ok, how about rutabaga? Very funny. No! Don’t erase!...
“Time’s up! How many words?” Host points at me.
Uh oh. I know I’m
not great at this yet. “648?”
Host gives me a Special Olympics smile, then points to AU
Julie. “How about you?”
“1726.” AU Julie
looks as if this was a bit of a disappointment. She’s done better.
I blink a few times. I can’t even type that fast, much less
string together sentences that have both subjects and predicates.
Paradigm shift. People
can write that fast? Splutter, splutter. My brain tries to absorb this.
If I wrote that fast, I could write 5, 10, 15 thousand words
in a day….I could write a book a month. I could write George R.R. Martin style
and still produce multiple books
before I die….
“Great! Next word war in 30 minutes.”
What would it take to write that fast?
Well, I’d have to take a typing class for one thing. I’m a
self-taught, hunt-and-peck girl. More importantly, I’d have to have a plan. Not
just write my way into the scene. I’d have to know who, what and where I was
going.
This is the greatest lesson that NaNo offers: there are
other ways. There are alternate universes. And you can go there.
By our final Word War of the night, I was ready. I picked a
clear destination for the scene and committed to getting to that resolution as
fast as I could.
“This will be a 5 minute war. Go!”
I wrote like a fiend. I wrote with a focus and intensity I’d
only blundered into before on those great writing days every writer lives
for—the days you find your flow, your groove, your bliss.
“Stop!” The Host turned to AU Julie first this time.
“Total?”
“539.”
I check my word count and report, “282.”
That’s almost 300 words in only 5 minutes. Not that much
less than AU Julie, percentage wise. Holy cow, I’m in the ballpark! The Host
gives me a thumbs up.
“But—” AU Julie pulls off her headphones to clarify, “I was
on ebay during that one.”
“During the Word War?” the host asks.
“Yeah. I bought a snake. And a cage. And some other snake
stuff, you know.”
“You bought a snake?” Our host sounds confused.
“Yeah. I like snakes. A lot.”
Cue the awkward silence.
Until I jump in with, “Cool.”
She smiles at me, a little shy. I smile back.
That’s when it hits me.
This is the reason
I NaNo.
For the stories.