Reflections on Writing a Novel in a Month

So now that I have recovered from the whirlwind of November, it is time to reflect on the mad dash to 50,000 words.

First of all, to recap the process, National Novel Writing Month challenges writers to write a 50,000-word novel from scratch in the month of November. Over 75,000 writers from all over the world took the challenge, checking our daily stats on nanowrimo's great website where you can watch your little bar-graph climb--or flounder--as you reach for the goal.

Being an incredibly disciplined over-achiever, this challenge seemed right up my alley.

So I began. And I began with a bang, getting to 18,000 by the first week as I dug up and cultivated the pieces of a story that I've been pregnant with for years. By about week three, though, as my real life demands began to catch up and my family was home more then usual for the Thanksgiving weekend, and I hovered at 38,000 words, I began to doubt my ability to cross the finish line before the month's end.

On November 27th I gave up. I had written 42,000 words, and I decided that was just "good enough." I had a pressing editorial deadline and could not accomplish both. I had a lump of clay that I was proud of, and who cares if I "won" or not?

Apparently, my ego.

It was like that time that I climbed Gray's Peak, one of Colorado's 14,000-foot mountains, and just throwing distance from the summit I collapsed, refusing to take another step. "Look at the view from here," I protested. "It's good enough." Thankfully a persistant climbing partner urged me the last 20 minutes to the summit, and I earned my picture taken with the official sign on the summit of Gray's Peak. And I earned the right to say, "I climbed a 14,000-foot mountain." And yes, it was worth it.

In those last 36 hours I decided that I was too close to quit. I could blow off my other work for just two more days, even if it meant I would suffer all weekend to catch up. How often does one end up 36 hours away from being able to say, "I wrote a novel in a month?"

So I blew through the block and wrote scene after scene, checking my word count every 20 minutes to see how much farther, how much farther, how much farther...almost...almost...48,785, 49,124, 49853...(just write anything you're almost there)...50,000! Ding, ding, ding! I did it.

So I put the winners logo on this entry with the pride. Recommitting to the process in those last 36 hours was also a recommitment to myself, an acknowledment of how far I had come, how much work I had already done--not just in November, but the many years of dedication to a seemingly selfish endeavor to move people with the poetry of my life, the terra incognita of my imagination. These moments are worth celebration since, let's face it, the life of a writer offers few definitive moments of "achievement."

But more then a winner's icon, I discovered a certain gift in writing so quickly that you do not have time to reread. Yes, my newest novel has a lot of holes, and yes, I repeat myself endlessly, but also for those blessed weeks in November I was able to effectively turn off my inner editor, that evil elf that wants it perfect before you are allowed to continue. There is not time to engage with that little voice when you are trying to generate 1667 words a day. It becomes instead a creative free-for-all, a wonderful brainstorm where no ideas are too base to follow into the woods. And paths cut into the woods at that speed often lead to unexpected gingerbread houses.