And, they're OFF!
Nov. 1st, 2003 10:17 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ambitious_wenchThe first installment of Chris Baty's weekly NaNoWriMo newsletters. I think it's a masterpiece.
Dear Novelist-to-be,
You know what's weird? I just realized that, with 21,000 writers, we are probably the single largest creative force that's ever been amassed in the history of the world.
Is that possible?
I think it is.
Dang.
Anyway, hi there. My name is Chris Baty, and I'm the director of NaNoWriMo. As we type our way to victory this month, I'll be sending out these weekly missives to help distract all of us from the terrifying fact
that we are indeed supposed to write an entire novel in a thirty-day period.
Before I get started, though, I just wanted to extend a warm welcome to everyone participating this year. I have a very good feeling about November, and I'm looking forward to seeing the Winner's Page scroll for
miles at the end of the month.
For this week's email, I thought I'd try to answer a question that has been on many of our minds lately. That question, a perennial puzzle around NaNoWriMo headquarters, comes in two parts, and runs as follows:
1) Why am I doing this to myself?
And
2) Am I completely crazy?
The short answer is this: You are doing this because you are fantastic and brave and curious. The other short answer is yes, you are probably a little crazy.
And this is a good thing.
Let me explain. There are certain things that we know we can do. Showing up for work relatively close to the contractually obligated start time is one. Watching TV is another. We also know, in a general sort of way, that we could probably tie a decent enough knot to secure a docile cow to a pole for several hours.
Writing a novel, unlike cow-tying, is not something you really ever know for sure you can do. It's one of those frighteningly unpredictable activities like lawn darts and breakdancing that people with all their faculties tend to shy away from. Because, as adults, we don't usually gravitate towards endeavors that make us feel like complete idiots.
Novel-writing sits at the apex of the world's most intimidating pastimes. Even after you've spent years of your life writing novels, even after you've sold several books, you can never be sure that you'll be able to pull it off again. Writing is just subject to too much uncertainty, and writers spend their working lives subject to the mercurial winds of inspiration, imagination, and timing.
So if novel-writing is a struggle for people who get paid to do it, what chance do we have?
The answer: An excellent one.
Because here's the trick: We have a horrifically absurd deadline on our side. An absolutely laughable due date that makes quantity far more important than quality, and forces all of us to abandon our notions
of getting everything right and tidy on the first go-round.
This does amazing things for a writer. With the emphasis on just getting the chapters done and keeping the pace flowing, you'll find yourself writing in broad, open strokes, sketching the borders of your
fictional world with an unfamiliar ease. You'll also find yourself suddenly liberated from that inner-critic who tends to kill great ideas before they
bloom.
And you'll discover that novel-writing, when transformed into a high-velocity sport, can be wonderfully fun. Great messy gobs of fun, where you lose yourself for hours in the blissful reaches of your imagination and meet people who will stay with you for the rest of your days.
Not everything in November will go so smoothly, mind you. In the rush, you'll write some things that make you cringe. Characters will likely turn out a little lopsided, and your plot may make a wrong turn somewhere near the second act, and never find its way back home again.
But it doesn't matter. However muddled things get, they can all be straightened out in the rewrite. November is your chance to experiment, to chase wild tangents, to purposefully write yourself into cliff-hanging corners, just to watch your MacGyver-esque imagination pull your story out of yet one more impossible jam.
It may all add up to a masterwork that will be celebrated for generations, or it may add up to something you quietly bury in your backyard. Either
way, you'll end up with reams of invaluable writing experience. And one of the most exhilarating, unforgettable months of your life.
Which is I guess, a long answer to why we're doing this. We're doing it because we're crazy enough to try. And at over 21,000 strong, I pity anything that gets in our way.
Best of luck to everyone in November!
Chris
NaNoWriMo
Dear Novelist-to-be,
You know what's weird? I just realized that, with 21,000 writers, we are probably the single largest creative force that's ever been amassed in the history of the world.
Is that possible?
I think it is.
Dang.
Anyway, hi there. My name is Chris Baty, and I'm the director of NaNoWriMo. As we type our way to victory this month, I'll be sending out these weekly missives to help distract all of us from the terrifying fact
that we are indeed supposed to write an entire novel in a thirty-day period.
Before I get started, though, I just wanted to extend a warm welcome to everyone participating this year. I have a very good feeling about November, and I'm looking forward to seeing the Winner's Page scroll for
miles at the end of the month.
For this week's email, I thought I'd try to answer a question that has been on many of our minds lately. That question, a perennial puzzle around NaNoWriMo headquarters, comes in two parts, and runs as follows:
1) Why am I doing this to myself?
And
2) Am I completely crazy?
The short answer is this: You are doing this because you are fantastic and brave and curious. The other short answer is yes, you are probably a little crazy.
And this is a good thing.
Let me explain. There are certain things that we know we can do. Showing up for work relatively close to the contractually obligated start time is one. Watching TV is another. We also know, in a general sort of way, that we could probably tie a decent enough knot to secure a docile cow to a pole for several hours.
Writing a novel, unlike cow-tying, is not something you really ever know for sure you can do. It's one of those frighteningly unpredictable activities like lawn darts and breakdancing that people with all their faculties tend to shy away from. Because, as adults, we don't usually gravitate towards endeavors that make us feel like complete idiots.
Novel-writing sits at the apex of the world's most intimidating pastimes. Even after you've spent years of your life writing novels, even after you've sold several books, you can never be sure that you'll be able to pull it off again. Writing is just subject to too much uncertainty, and writers spend their working lives subject to the mercurial winds of inspiration, imagination, and timing.
So if novel-writing is a struggle for people who get paid to do it, what chance do we have?
The answer: An excellent one.
Because here's the trick: We have a horrifically absurd deadline on our side. An absolutely laughable due date that makes quantity far more important than quality, and forces all of us to abandon our notions
of getting everything right and tidy on the first go-round.
This does amazing things for a writer. With the emphasis on just getting the chapters done and keeping the pace flowing, you'll find yourself writing in broad, open strokes, sketching the borders of your
fictional world with an unfamiliar ease. You'll also find yourself suddenly liberated from that inner-critic who tends to kill great ideas before they
bloom.
And you'll discover that novel-writing, when transformed into a high-velocity sport, can be wonderfully fun. Great messy gobs of fun, where you lose yourself for hours in the blissful reaches of your imagination and meet people who will stay with you for the rest of your days.
Not everything in November will go so smoothly, mind you. In the rush, you'll write some things that make you cringe. Characters will likely turn out a little lopsided, and your plot may make a wrong turn somewhere near the second act, and never find its way back home again.
But it doesn't matter. However muddled things get, they can all be straightened out in the rewrite. November is your chance to experiment, to chase wild tangents, to purposefully write yourself into cliff-hanging corners, just to watch your MacGyver-esque imagination pull your story out of yet one more impossible jam.
It may all add up to a masterwork that will be celebrated for generations, or it may add up to something you quietly bury in your backyard. Either
way, you'll end up with reams of invaluable writing experience. And one of the most exhilarating, unforgettable months of your life.
Which is I guess, a long answer to why we're doing this. We're doing it because we're crazy enough to try. And at over 21,000 strong, I pity anything that gets in our way.
Best of luck to everyone in November!
Chris
NaNoWriMo
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2003-11-01 11:17 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-11-01 11:41 am (UTC)How's your word count?
I'm up to about 500 now.
Edie
no subject
Date: 2003-11-01 12:56 pm (UTC)