Nano-Flop-mo...
Nanowrimo, National Novel Writing Month, occurs during the month of November every year. I successfully completed writing a 50,000 word novel by participating in this project one year, 2004 I believe it was. Did I ever go back to edit or rewrite that piece of "work". I might have played around with it for a couple of months but basically gave up on it. The years since I ceremoniously jump on the projects bandwagon but have not completed it again. This year I felt a little more ambitious about the project, and actually, each year I cumulate an aura of energy and excitement about the work I have done on my real, ongoing novel project for my book about the story of a young girl haunted by the ghost of a literary master and use November to get more focused and centralized. November is like my "New Years" when I make resolutions to work more and harder on finishing the novel.
Am I actually any closer to getting this thing finished? No, not really but in the last year the scope of the story has broadened - something that could not have occurred if I were to have finished writing the novel in the year of it's ideas conception. Am I nearing a line where I may come to say, "To hell with it?" Yes and no. I love this story and it means so much to me, so I don't want to let it go. Why this line is appearing is because I cannot get focused enough to spend 6 months in hibernation to do nothing but write it. I am too easily distracted by other projects; namely my photography and journalism opportunities that are arising.
Regardless, I want to share with you one of the most incredibly encouraging statements to actually sit my butt down and write, write, write, and do nothing but write. This was the week three letter of encouragement written by mega-author Neil Gaiman for this years Nanowrimo participants.
Dear NaNoWriMo Author,
By now you're probably ready to give up. You're past that first fine furious rapture when every character and idea is new and entertaining. You're not yet at the momentous downhill slide to the end, when words and images tumble out of your head sometimes faster than you can get them down on paper. You're in the middle, a little past the half-way point. The glamour has faded, the magic has gone, your back hurts from all the typing, your family, friends and random email acquaintances have gone from being encouraging or at least accepting to now complaining that they never see you any more---and that even when they do you're preoccupied and no fun. You don't know why you started your novel, you no longer remember why you imagined that anyone would want to read it, and you're pretty sure that even if you finish it it won't have been worth the time or energy and every time you stop long enough to compare it to the thing that you had in your head when you began---a glittering, brilliant, wonderful novel, in which every word spits fire and burns, a book as good or better than the best book you ever read---it falls so painfully short that you're pretty sure that it would be a mercy simply to delete the whole thing.
Welcome to the club.
That's how novels get written.
You write. That's the hard bit that nobody sees. You write on the good days and you write on the lousy days. Like a shark, you have to keep moving forward or you die. Writing may or may not be your salvation; it might or might not be your destiny. But that does not matter. What matters right now are the words, one after another. Find the next word. Write it down. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.
A dry-stone wall is a lovely thing when you see it bordering a field in the middle of nowhere but becomes more impressive when you realise that it was built without mortar, that the builder needed to choose each interloc king stone and fit it in. Writing is like building a wall. It's a continual search for the word that will fit in the text, in your mind, on the page. Plot and character and metaphor and style, all these become secondary to the words. The wall-builder erects her wall one rock at a time until she reaches the far end of the field. If she doesn't build it it won't be there. So she looks down at her pile of rocks, picks the one that looks like it will best suit her purpose, and puts it in.
The search for the word gets no easier but nobody else is going to write your novel for you.
The last novel I wrote (it was ANANSI BOYS, in case you were wondering) when I got three-quarters of the way through I called my agent. I told her how stupid I felt writing something no-one would ever want to read, how thin the characters were, how pointless the plot. I strongly suggested that I was ready to abandon this book and write something else instead, or perhaps I cou ld abandon the book and take up a new life as a landscape gardener, bank-robber, short-order cook or marine biologist. And instead of sympathising or agreeing with me, or blasting me forward with a wave of enthusiasm---or even arguing with me---she simply said, suspiciously cheerfully, "Oh, you're at that part of the book, are you?"
I was shocked. "You mean I've done this before?"
"You don't remember?"
"Not really."
"Oh yes," she said. "You do this every time you write a novel. But so do all my other clients."
I didn't even get to feel unique in my despair.
So I put down the phone and drove down to the coffee house in which I was writing the book, filled my pen and carried on writing.
One word after another.
That's the only way that novels get written and, short of elves coming in the night and turning your jumbled notes in to Chapter Nine, it's the only way to do it.
So keep on keeping on. Write another word and then another.
Pretty soon you'll be on the downward slide, and it's not impossible that soon you'll be at the end. Good luck...
Neil Gaiman
--
Neil Gaiman is the author of the New York Times bestselling children's book Coraline and of the picture books The Wolves in the Walls and The Day I Swapped My Dad for Two Goldfish. He is also the author of award-winning novels and short stories for adults, as well as the Sandman series of graphic novels. His most recent novels include InterWorld and Anansi Boys. For more info on Neil, visit www.neilgaiman.com
Also, November is not over yet. I have already written about 6,000 words in the project this month and may still pour out some more. The photography has taken precedence this year though.
I also want to share that last night I went to see the new biographical film about Bob Dylan called, "I'm Not There". The thing I love most about Dylan's music is how it makes me listen closely. There is power in his lyrics and his voice and you cannot hear it by listening passively. Power to set you free. Power that can only be tapped in to by identifying with the resonance of the timber of his voice, the complexity of his compositions, and by deciphering the intricate, yet infinitely understandable lyrics of his songs.
This film is not for two types of people; lovers of beauty and well educated fans of Dylan's life. If you've seen the documentary film about Dylan's life, "No Direction Home" and read anything biographical about his life and are familiar with his music catalog you will be able to identify the mysterious characters and convoluted sub-plots in this film. I say lovers of beauty will enjoy this film because it is an amazing cinematic experience. And maybe if you are a film love and go see this film with no pre-knowledge of Dylan, you may leave with a hunger and desire to go study him more deeply. I hope so at least.
Am I actually any closer to getting this thing finished? No, not really but in the last year the scope of the story has broadened - something that could not have occurred if I were to have finished writing the novel in the year of it's ideas conception. Am I nearing a line where I may come to say, "To hell with it?" Yes and no. I love this story and it means so much to me, so I don't want to let it go. Why this line is appearing is because I cannot get focused enough to spend 6 months in hibernation to do nothing but write it. I am too easily distracted by other projects; namely my photography and journalism opportunities that are arising.
Regardless, I want to share with you one of the most incredibly encouraging statements to actually sit my butt down and write, write, write, and do nothing but write. This was the week three letter of encouragement written by mega-author Neil Gaiman for this years Nanowrimo participants.
Dear NaNoWriMo Author,
By now you're probably ready to give up. You're past that first fine furious rapture when every character and idea is new and entertaining. You're not yet at the momentous downhill slide to the end, when words and images tumble out of your head sometimes faster than you can get them down on paper. You're in the middle, a little past the half-way point. The glamour has faded, the magic has gone, your back hurts from all the typing, your family, friends and random email acquaintances have gone from being encouraging or at least accepting to now complaining that they never see you any more---and that even when they do you're preoccupied and no fun. You don't know why you started your novel, you no longer remember why you imagined that anyone would want to read it, and you're pretty sure that even if you finish it it won't have been worth the time or energy and every time you stop long enough to compare it to the thing that you had in your head when you began---a glittering, brilliant, wonderful novel, in which every word spits fire and burns, a book as good or better than the best book you ever read---it falls so painfully short that you're pretty sure that it would be a mercy simply to delete the whole thing.
Welcome to the club.
That's how novels get written.
You write. That's the hard bit that nobody sees. You write on the good days and you write on the lousy days. Like a shark, you have to keep moving forward or you die. Writing may or may not be your salvation; it might or might not be your destiny. But that does not matter. What matters right now are the words, one after another. Find the next word. Write it down. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.
A dry-stone wall is a lovely thing when you see it bordering a field in the middle of nowhere but becomes more impressive when you realise that it was built without mortar, that the builder needed to choose each interloc king stone and fit it in. Writing is like building a wall. It's a continual search for the word that will fit in the text, in your mind, on the page. Plot and character and metaphor and style, all these become secondary to the words. The wall-builder erects her wall one rock at a time until she reaches the far end of the field. If she doesn't build it it won't be there. So she looks down at her pile of rocks, picks the one that looks like it will best suit her purpose, and puts it in.
The search for the word gets no easier but nobody else is going to write your novel for you.
The last novel I wrote (it was ANANSI BOYS, in case you were wondering) when I got three-quarters of the way through I called my agent. I told her how stupid I felt writing something no-one would ever want to read, how thin the characters were, how pointless the plot. I strongly suggested that I was ready to abandon this book and write something else instead, or perhaps I cou ld abandon the book and take up a new life as a landscape gardener, bank-robber, short-order cook or marine biologist. And instead of sympathising or agreeing with me, or blasting me forward with a wave of enthusiasm---or even arguing with me---she simply said, suspiciously cheerfully, "Oh, you're at that part of the book, are you?"
I was shocked. "You mean I've done this before?"
"You don't remember?"
"Not really."
"Oh yes," she said. "You do this every time you write a novel. But so do all my other clients."
I didn't even get to feel unique in my despair.
So I put down the phone and drove down to the coffee house in which I was writing the book, filled my pen and carried on writing.
One word after another.
That's the only way that novels get written and, short of elves coming in the night and turning your jumbled notes in to Chapter Nine, it's the only way to do it.
So keep on keeping on. Write another word and then another.
Pretty soon you'll be on the downward slide, and it's not impossible that soon you'll be at the end. Good luck...
Neil Gaiman
--
Neil Gaiman is the author of the New York Times bestselling children's book Coraline and of the picture books The Wolves in the Walls and The Day I Swapped My Dad for Two Goldfish. He is also the author of award-winning novels and short stories for adults, as well as the Sandman series of graphic novels. His most recent novels include InterWorld and Anansi Boys. For more info on Neil, visit www.neilgaiman.com
Also, November is not over yet. I have already written about 6,000 words in the project this month and may still pour out some more. The photography has taken precedence this year though.
I also want to share that last night I went to see the new biographical film about Bob Dylan called, "I'm Not There". The thing I love most about Dylan's music is how it makes me listen closely. There is power in his lyrics and his voice and you cannot hear it by listening passively. Power to set you free. Power that can only be tapped in to by identifying with the resonance of the timber of his voice, the complexity of his compositions, and by deciphering the intricate, yet infinitely understandable lyrics of his songs.
This film is not for two types of people; lovers of beauty and well educated fans of Dylan's life. If you've seen the documentary film about Dylan's life, "No Direction Home" and read anything biographical about his life and are familiar with his music catalog you will be able to identify the mysterious characters and convoluted sub-plots in this film. I say lovers of beauty will enjoy this film because it is an amazing cinematic experience. And maybe if you are a film love and go see this film with no pre-knowledge of Dylan, you may leave with a hunger and desire to go study him more deeply. I hope so at least.
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