NaNoWriMo 301 — Misconception Objections

November 7th. Do a word count. If you’re hitting 12,000 words today, you may join the Success Society. If not, then why not?

“That wild boar stampede set me back, and I’m still picking up the pieces.” — Boars are nasty violent and illiterate. Acceptable.

“Too much snow! It never snows here on the East Coast this late in October/early in November.” — My apologies. I forgot that everyone of importance lives on the Northeast Coast of the US and A. Sincerest and humblest apologies. All is forgiven. Mittens shall be mailed to you and your needy family.

“I need to write this right, because I’m not one to go about writing all wrong.”

That’s why we’re Writing All Wrong.

This is my first time actually doing NaNoWriMo. I’m still really excited about the idea of finishing and hitting 50,000 words on my first attempt. But I’m only about 6,000 words in after a week! At that rate, I’m not going to get there, and I’m a bit worried. I think my problem is that I have to make everything “perfect.” I find myself going back and making changes which help things run smoother, but it’s obviously not working. What do you suggest? (And thanks in advance!)

—Kirsten Jennings, Olympia, Wash. 

(Note: NaNoWriMo is short for Narcissistic Nonsense Writing Motivation or something like that. Simple premise: write a “novel” of fifty-thousand words within the month of November. The prize? Fifty-thousand dollars. In the competition’s 196-year history, only three have claimed the prize.)

/does math, divides 6,000 over 7, carrying the nine.

Yeah, you’re in trouble, but you’re not “done for.” I think I may pull out the extended metaphors for this one. A NaNoWriMo novel is special. There are rules it bends and breaks, and one of the halves of this battle is knowing what a NaNoWriMo novel is not. Here are some misconception objections.

1. A NaNoWriMo novel is not a building.

To borrow a “joke” from the watermelon-smashing comedian Noel Gallagher: “Why do they call buildings ‘buildings’ after they’ve finished them? Why not call them ‘builts?’” Point being: you’re building, but you’re not building a building here. You’re building a 50,000 word ‘something.’ Don’t fret because you put the bathroom on the rooftop, or that you didn’t quite figure out the concept of load-bearing walls. If you feel you’ve created an occupational hazard, well, you likely did, but your illegally-hired illegal workforce isn’t going to be crushed by putting the first floor on the third floor. Who cares if it’s not “up to code?” Keep building for now, worry about OSHA later.

2. A NaNoWriMo novel is not a jigsaw puzzle.

Whether you think about it or not, you may be writing to “make the pieces fit.” “Oh, I need to use 50,000 pieces, put them together, done!” No. The more time you spend putting pieces together, the more time you lose creating. You should have the story in mind, the completed image. But it shouldn’t be the image on an M.C. Escher® Impossipuzzle™ box containing 50,000 pieces. You’re making pieces from scratch with this. You’re putting an image on cardboard. You’re cutting that sheet. The goal is making those 50,000 pieces. Even better if they happen to fit together here and there.

3. A NaNoWriMo novel is not an “un-kangaroo.”

Well, now that I’ve painted myself into a corner here: a few kangaroo facts—they’re the world’s largest marsupial, got their name from the Aboriginal phrase for “dude’s got hops,” smell like curry, taste like tarragon, sprout miniature kangaroos from pouches containing spatial portals, and don’t move backwards. Yes, for a kangaroo, it’s “one way or the highway,” and that way is either forward or onward. Your NaNoWriMo novel should be the same, moving ever forward, hopping along, meter by meter, eating eucalyptus and doing all that fun marsupial fun. Forward only. None of the backwardness. It is not the “un-kangaroo,” an animal that’s moving backward and being un-marsupial.

Yeah.

So what NaNoWriMo misconceptions did you have to destroy to break down that dam and get the 50,000 gallons of water rushing upon the plain?

Writing All Wrong can be reached via email (WritingAllWrong@me.com), followed on Twitter (@WritingAllWrong), and probed for more NaNoWriMo nectar during the month.

NaNoWriMo 201 – Enough for 50,000 Words?

November. NaNoWriMo begins tomorrow.

You have a plan, picked direct from the last post. On to the story.

Wait, not sure on the story yet? Oh dear.

That’s why we’re Writing All Wrong.

Still debating on a few story ideas, but how do I know if my story will last 50000 words? 

—Jansen Wheeler, Boca Raton, Fla.

(Note: NaNoWriMo is short for Narcissistic Nonsense Writing Motivation or something like that. Simple premise: write a “novel” of fifty-thousand words within the month of November. The prize? Fifty-thousand dollars. In the competition’s 196-year history, only three have claimed the prize.)

Simplest way: use one of your monthly time-travel teleports to zip to December and find out.

If you don’t want to burn one of those, try a few of these handy-dandies.

Summary time:

“Oh, yeah, it’s about (something something soooomething yeah).” If you can sum it up neatly within 10 seconds or in a simple sentence, you may be in trouble. Pull an anti-Inception here: the simplest, rawest form of the idea is not what you need. A two-second, five-word summary might not be enough concentrate, bub. But a two-paragraph, five-minute presentation of a summation? Maybe.

Digressive potential: 

While I normally discourage the abuse of this, NaNoWriMo isn’t about quality. If your narrative is too compact, loosed up the threads a bit. Writing Sci-Fi? Come on, Sci-Fi is nothing but digression. You can spend 10,000 words on why bipolar tachyon vortices work in prehistoric vacuums, but not in postpositive bended reality. Add a <tech> tag and move on. Same with fantasy. Spells, potions, the Codex Magicus, arcane histories, backstory that won’t advance the narrative: it will advance you to the finish line.

Characters: 

Quick: name the longest Charles Dickens novel, then name the Dickens novel with the most characters. Yep, it’s the same one. Then you have The Tale of Genji, featuring over four hundred characters. It’s long enough to win you NaNoWriMo for half a year. Point being: stick in enough characters to consume 50,000 words worth of treatment.

Flashbang flashbacks:

Did you know that, according to science, we humans spend up to 27% (!) of our day either rehashing the past, reminiscing, or dwelling on things we’ve done in the past? NaNoWriMo doesn’t care if you drive the narrative into a temporal ditch to go back in time and give your story some story-behind-the-story. Same thing with looking forward. Dreams and ideals to come are part of our existence. Feel free to imbue the narrative with the same. Give it the time trifecta.

Any other handy-dandies work for you?

Writing All Wrong can be reached via email (WritingAllWrong@me.com), followed on Twitter (@WritingAllWrong), and probed for more NaNoWriMo nectar during the month.

NaNoWriMo 101 – Writing Plans

November.

Depending on where you live, autumn’s in full swing, or it’s already murdered by winter. Depending on where you live, Thanksgiving. Not shaving. Black Friday. Day of the Dead. No more baseball. Guy Fawkes. Native American. Leonids meteors. No more pink NFL gear. Lava fest. Beluga caviar smuggling. Taco Pizza Day. Week of walking on your hands. Anti-hiccup awareness.

November to writers: NaNoWriMo. I needn’t say more.

That’s why we’re Writing All Wrong.

What’s your plan for NaNoWriMo? Because I want to know how you plan to finish. I wish I could say I’ve gotten to 50,000 words, but I haven’t. The closest I got was 32,809. Is there a sure fire way to reach that hallowed mark of 50k? 

—Brandy Ferris, Kent Acres, Del.

(Note: NaNoWriMo is short for Narcissistic Nonsense Writing Motivation or something like that. Simple premise: write a “novel” of fifty-thousand words within the month of November. The prize? Fifty-thousand dollars. In the competition’s 196-year history, only three have claimed the prize.)

Most important thing about a competition of words: numbers. 50,000 is a big African elephant to swallow. Most choke on the trunk right away, but even if you successfully engorge that much, you’re still not going to cram down the elephant’s head, tusks, and feet. Come now, everyone knows you can’t eat an elephant in a day all by yourself. Even if you chop it to eat over the month, you realize, “Wait, I’ve got ears for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and this hindquarters is way too much for the week. It’s gonna go bad before I can finish it. Better bring the neighbors over…”

Yeah. Reduce it all you want, but you’re still not planning. You can win that $50,000 if you have a concrete plan.

By the numbers:

November: 30 days. Requirement: 50,000 words. Words per day: 1,666.66 (need 2/3 of a word there).

Easy? If it were easy, then everyone would win. At this point in the blog, I’ve only got 363 words. Only 22% of goal, and I’ve been writing for hours.

By the plans:

The People’s Daily — 1,666ish words per day, every day, without fail. Rain, shine, beetles, brine.

Recommended if you’re single, unemployed, insomniac, or live the same kind of boring life day in and out. It’s the most straightforward, but I hope you’re cozy with monotony, because this plan is like superannuated mice. Really old, really quick.

The Weekend Wartortle — 5000 words per Saturday/Sunday, and 455 words per weekday.

Recommended for those who, like everyone in the known universe, work a Monday-Friday, 8 to 5. Minor quota for the day, with generous allowances for the weekend. Keeps you sharp, lets you avalanche on your days off.

The Weekend Warhalla — 6,250 words per weekend day. No weekdays.

Recommended for sissies who think they’re too busy during the week. Enjoy eating one-fourth of the elephant each weekend.

The Weekend Liberator — 2,273 words per weekday. No weekends.

Recommended for those who will go insane during the week to regain sanity during the weekend.

The Stay-at-Home Mom Who One Day Wants to Write a Novel — 1,000 words per weekday, and 7,000 words per one weekend day.

Recommended for, well, stay-at-home moms. You can squeeze 1,000 words in between naptimes, feedings, and when the tots are glued to Croelius and the Barnyard Gang DVDs. And when your spouse comes home, even better, as he can watch the kids while you finish off the quota. He’ll sign on, of course, since you’re not “writing all the time” with your one weekend day break. That gives him the liberty to wash the car, ride motorcycles with his buds, and do all that “guy stuff” you hate guys doing. But hey, you’ll be finishing a novel. 

The Prime Number — 1,667 words per day.

Recommended for math geeks who have to write a prime number of words per day. Convenient.

The Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde — 1,000 words (and change) when in your right mind, 666 when you’ve undergone a hideous transformation.

Recommended for lycanthropes, sufferers of personality shift, menacing dissociative disorders, and other folks with terrorizing transformative tendencies.

The Micromanager — 140 words per hour, for twelve hours per day.

Recommended for people who really have to break it down into digestible chunks. 140 words per hour? That’s like a really big tweet every hour, on the hour. Trade in your mindless tweets every minute for mindless writing every 60 minutes, and you’ll be a winner in no time. Well, in 30 days no time.

The Procrastinatorsaurus Rex — 12,500 words for the last weekend in November, followed by about 8,334 words for the last three days in November.

Recommended for people who don’t get around to doing this until Thanksgiving weekend.

The Daily Double — Write one word on November 1st, then write double that (2 words) for the next day, then double the previous day’s amount (write 4 words) the next day, then 8 words the next day, then 16 words, then 32, and so on.

Recommended for people who don’t understand the concept of compound interest or a geometric series. But the bonus here is that while you’ll have over 17,000+ words to go on November 15th, you’ll be 15,000+ words over the goal on November 16th. Oh yeah. Math works miracles for writing.

What’s your plan?

Writing All Wrong can be reached via email (WritingAllWrong@me.com), followed on Twitter (@WritingAllWrong), and probed for more NaNoWriMo nectar during the month.