Thoughts from the land of NanoWriMo

It’s been a tough road so far. A quick glimpse at the WordWar shows me running way behind schedule. I’ve scrapped the first 1500 words I wrote, considered giving up, fought a few internal battles, and been through a bad patch with Lola. Such is Life. 

Thanks to Neil Gaiman’s advice (with a nod to Crumpet), and the first NaNo email, I realised that my unique concerns are the same as everyone else’s. The main difference lies in how we respond to them.

So I put aside my worries, and started a new story (the first one was truly terrible, and had no legs). I’m not convinced that I’ll complete the 50,000 words, but that’s not my main goal any more. My main goal is to try to develop a habit, a writing habit. I’m looking at the future, not at the present.

The latest NaNo email - from Jonathan Stroud -  highlighted another issue I struggle with on a regular basis:

This is just a first draft, after all. It doesn’t have to be a perfect thing. I once met an author who claimed only to write when actively inspired. She was a fine and venerated writer, so I didn’t let my jaw loll open too widely in her presence, but I didn’t really buy her claim, and I still don’t buy it now. If ‘inspiration’ is when the words just flow out, each one falling correctly on the page, I’ve been inspired precisely once in ten years. All the rest of the time, as I’ve been piecing together my seven novels, it’s been a more or less painful effort. You write, you complete a draft in the time you’ve got, you take a rest. Then—later, when you’ve recovered a little—you reread and revise. And so it goes. And little by little the thing that started off as a heap of fragments, a twist of ideas trapped inside your head, begins to take on its own shape and identity, and becomes a living entity, separate from yourself.