The Blue Candle Society

I’m participating in National Writing Month, against my better judgement really, given all the other writing -related things I should be doing (to say nothing of all the other things like day jobs and personal hygiene, which could suffer as well).  A fair number of people seem to have fairly strong opinions about NaNoWriMo, from it being the wonderfulest thing ever to it being a machine that churns out horrible half-baked prose.  I suspect the latter are mainly agents who get NaNoWriMo projects sent to them on the first of December (if there are any agents or editors reading this, rest assured that I will not go sending this thing out (assuming I finish it) without letting it age for a while, and revising the dickens out of it).

I kind of find it an interesting experience, though, because it forces me out of my typical writing method (slowly, after trickles of inspiration).  I work fairly well with routines and firm, if arbitrary, goals for some reason, it seems.  It is sort of exhilarating to settle down in front of the old computer with absolutely no idea what happens next, then byGod come up with something five minutes later, because 1,700 words a day ain’t going to write themselves.  Normally when I have no idea what happens next I stare off into space or check my email, but there is no time for such indulgences during NaNoWriMo.

All in all, it feels a bit like being pursued by a boulder a la Indiana Jones, with that daily wordcount goal I hit every evening being like sliding under the closing door (doesn’t that sound exciting?)  It does get a bit exhausting day after day, of course.  I think my writing buddies who, as off this writing, are hovering around 10,000 freaking words are really missing out.  That’s like Indiana Jones strolling along in front of a very slow-moving boulder that keeps stopping to catch its, I don’t know, boulder breath (give me a break on the snappy metaphors, will you?  I wrote 1,738 words today and it ain’t a weekend).  Point being, they’re missing out.

The concern, of course, is that I’m writing a bunch of rubbish.  I like to think that I occasionally discover characters saying or doing things that really reveal their personalities, things that I wouldn’t have known about if not pressed to find out, but I think it is undeniable that they occasionally just blurt things out to fill the silence too, things we all later regret.  But that’s what rewrites are for.

~ by smwilliams on November 3, 2011.

Posted in General writing things