I know you’re all dying of anticipation. Did she make it? Did she make the 50,000-word NaNoWriMo goal?
Nope. I didn’t. I maxed out at 45,137. I just couldn’t pop out another word. My brain circuits shut down. I poured a glass of Bailey’s and called it a night at 10:30.
I could have forced the issue. I could have just typed away, oblivious to the actual content of what I was typing, but as much as I like editing, that didn’t really seem like the point to me. I felt like the exercise had served its purpose.
Here’s why:
- It forced me to get started on the project. It won’t ever happen unless you actually start the writing.
- It forced me to keep moving forward. You can’t afford to waste valuable time editing already written words when you’ve got ideas flowing. My typical approach is to write, and then obsessively edit, everything. I had to change that.
- It forced me to take the project seriously. I’m not going to spend that kind of time and effort on something that never goes anywhere. I’m going to see this thing through!
- It forced me to get organized; I have to keep all those words easily accessible in case I need to go back and check something.
- It forced me to pay attention to setting aside time every day for my own writing, no matter how heavy my workload of remunerative translating and editing was. It’s only going to go forward if you spend time on it. Those words piling up (or not) are vivid proof of that.
I’d say that in terms of the novel, I’m about halfway done. I’m really starting to get to know some of these characters. I had to change the plot because I couldn’t imagine my Swiss post-doc being evil at heart. I like him too much. I’m hooked.
I’m going to take a couple of days off, and then get back to work. Next week I have some interviews set up with people to get a handle on some of the scientific and technical details.
I’ll also be able to get back to the blog, and some gripping stuff I want to write about cognitive biases (I did slip one in just a couple of days ago, in case you didn’t catch it) and mice.
Many writers indulge in descriptive narrative that has little to do with rounding out the plot or giving life to their characters. I find myself skipping chunks of prose in pursuing the plot-line. More rarely, authors use their descriptive skills to enliven the world they create, the plot being an integral part of that existence. Many great literary novels have been crafted in this way, but I remember two of the more common herd that were worth reading for the authors’ narrative skills:
Snow Falling on Cedars by David Guterson
Cold Mountain by Charles Frazier.
Movie versions of both lost much of the atmosphere created in the novels.
And yes I did catch the cognitive bias, between the eyes. Having reached your initial goal (almost), will you be able to sustain interest in completing the novel without the word count imperative; or will other commitments begin to take precedence?
Hey Les,
I would never dream of being able to evoke a place nearly as well as Guterson or Frazier; both of those novels are also among my favorites. I’m finding that I do much better at describing things and people through dialogue and other sideways maneuvers, not in direct narrative description. I also get bored by that.
One of the big lessons from this exercise was how hard it actually is to get yourself to sit down and write – I came across a great John McPhee interview while procrastinating one day, in which he talks about the writing process. he said:
That just says it all for me.