things i've learned from a decade of NaNoWriMo

This is my tenth year of doing NaNoWriMo. (I need that gif from Grosse Point Blank of John Cusack's friend shouting "TEN YEARS!")

Now, I honestly didn't realise it'd been as much as ten years. I've just had my head down, typity-typing away, and when I look up from my monitor, blinking in the daylight, apparently a decade has passed. If I complete the Nano challenge this year, that'll be ten consecutive wins, and a total of half a million words written.

Looks kinda nice when it's set down like that. Excuse me while I bask for a moment.

So anyway, I guess maybe I can describe myself as a Nano veteran now? I've put in the time and I've put in the work, and I reckon I've got a handle on the event. I've participated in the November events and also several Camp NaNoWriMos and a couple of Script Frenzies, back when those were still a thing.

(I set all this out because I still feel like, hey, who the hell am I to offer advice? With so many other knowledgeable people out there on the web, why should I add my shouty opinions to the void?)

For what it's worth, here is what I've learned from a decade of Nanoing.

1. IT'S NOT FOR EVERYONE

Good Lord, is it not for everyone. Personally I love Nano. It suits me down to the ground. I love the microdeadline of writing 1,667 words a day, I love the freedom it gives me to write fast and loose, and I love the website with its updatable word count / bar graphs. I love the feeling of progress you get from watching your stats creep up. I love stats.

BUT it's not for everyone. Some people get the heebie-jeebies at the idea of writing like that. Who wants the stress of having to hit a word count every day? How can you cope without editing and fixing on the go? Who needs the peer pressure of your writing buddies judging you for your lack of progress? (They say they don't but I know the truth)

If your writing style doesn't fit the Nano model, that's fine. That's more than fine. You know who I'm jealous of? People who binge-write. Like, they sit down at the weekend and churn out five thousand words. How is that even possible? 1,667 words, arbitrary or not, seems to be my upper limit for productivity. If I try to blast through that and keep putting words down, my attention goes, my enthusiasm wanes, and my characters end up reading aloud from the dictionary just to keep the word count flowing.

My style is slow and steady. I'm happy with that. Nano fits me well. Other people have different styles, which Nano doesn't necessarily cater to. That's also fine. Don't try and force what doesn't work for you.

2. NANOWRIMO CAN MAKE YOU A BETTER WRITER

I am a better writer than I was ten years ago. I think that's fair to say. I'm more confident, I have a better working attitude, and I know how to use the word ameliorate.

Was this all down to Nano? Noooooo. Mostly I'd say it's thanks to ten years of more-or-less constant writing, a shedload of invaluable guidance from my various writing groups and beta readers, some professional intervention, and people hitting me with shoes to reinforce advice (I stand firm on certain points, like double-spacing after full stops, and no amount of shoes shall change my mind).

But Nano helped, for sure. It taught me I can write fast (when I need to), and I can write to a deadline (when I want to). It taught me that a paragraph of terrible writing is better than a paragraph that exists only in your head. It taught me, indirectly, the value of editing, because the nine first drafts I've churned out during past Novembers have been godawful. It taught me I am NOT a pantser, like I'd always thought... at least not a good one. And that leads me onto my next point:

3. IT'S OKAY TO QUIT

One of the most difficult things to admit is that a course of action isn't working for you. It could be that, like me, you consider yourself a hardcore pantser - planning is for the weak! Structure grows organically! And again, sure, if this works for you, more power to you.

Turns out, I can't structure for peanuts.

My Nano novels (and by extension the rest of my writing, because if the model works for November why not extend it to the rest of the year, right?) are horrible blobby messy lumps. They tend to start off alright, with two or three decent chapters, before descending into OH GOD WHAT HAPPENS NEXT. Without a plan, I would grab onto the first reasonable plot point that came to mind and write towards it. Nano happens so fast that there's no time to sit back and think. You're constantly scrabbling for plot. Or at least I am.

Also turns out, structure is hella-difficult to insert after the fact. It's like building a monster out of the squishy bits first then trying to cram a skeleton into it. Difficulty, frustrating, and unpleasant. Even if you succeed, chances are you're going to end up with something that looks, ehhhh, not quite like you'd hoped.

Took me ten years to learn this.

So, my point is, it's okay to change your ways. If pantsing isn't working, stop and make a plan. If you're bogged down in planning, try pantsing for a while.

And if you're really, really not enjoying the process... stop.

No one's forcing you to Nano. No one will judge you if you don't make that 50K in a month (not even me). Like the gambling adverts say: When the fun stops, stop. Come back to it at your own pace. The last thing you want to do is ruin your work by carrying on long after you stop enjoying it.

4. TAKING PART IS MORE IMPORTANT THAN WINNING

I've said this before, but we don't give enough kudos to participation. Everyone who signs up to Nano is awesome. Everyone who puts a handful of words onto paper (or screen) during November is awesome. Everyone who plugs on to the end and makes their fifty thousand is awesome. Everyone deserves cookies and praise.

So, if you're enjoying Nano, high five. If you're struggling bravely onwards through Nano, KEEP GOING, YOU GOT THIS BRAH. If you're seriously not enjoying it in the slightest and you think it might put you off writing forever... quit.

Whatever you're doing, however you're doing it, good luck to you all. Keep writing... at the pace that works for you.

2016 - end o year stats

So. What've we been up to in 2016?

However you look at it, it's been a heck of a year, but I'm going to ignore all the important stuff for now and go with my usual yearly round-up of how much I've written in the past 12 months, because that's something I feel relatively positive about and because I have some nice solid statistics to fall back on, rather than my own shouty opinions.

(I'm not posting all this to boast, btw. I just like stats, and I like being able to take stock of what I've done in a year. Also I hope it'll show that everyone's output is different, we all work at different speeds, we all have different definitions of what is a fair amount of work, and no one should ever make themselves (or anyone else) feel bad for doing more or less than the next guy.)

In total, I wrote 414,204 words, which equates to approximately 1131 words a day average. To compare, in 2015, I wrote 359,224 words (about 984 words a day average).

These totals include everything - first drafts, rewriting, editing, blog posts, competition entries... anything I can claim with a straight face as creative writing. I also included drawing as writing (using the vague definition that a finished picture is worth a thousand words).

Breaking this down into positives:

I wrote the first drafts of two new stories, one of which is now my favourite thing I've written.
I edited two other novels to close-enough-to-finished level.
I polished TERROR ISLAND and released it as an ebook.
I filled up two notebooks with notes, ideas, and random crap.
I wrote every day, even if it was just a couple of sentences (although there were a couple of close calls).
I read 91 books.

And into negatives:

I didn't get as much drawing done as I wanted. Maybe only two or three days included any drawing.
I didn't blog very much.
I didn't crit as many stories for other people as I should've. In fact, I still have three crits outstanding, which is very poor behaviour on my part.
I still don't reply to my emails in a timely fashion.

But in general, I'm happy with my output for the year. I feel like I've done okay. I really hope everyone else feels they've done okay too, despite this horrid year, and achieved something they can be content with.

I'm going to do a separate post about the books I've read, because I'm sure you're anxious to see my stats about those too. :)

Happy 2017, peeps. Stay safe out there.

piling peas

A first draft is a pile of peas.

Stick with me on this.

If you've never shelled peas, you should try it. Befriend someone with an allotment, get a whole bunch of peas in pods, sit and shell them out. It's therapeutic. Also peas smell and taste amazing straight from the pods.

So you start shelling the peas, digging your nails into the pods and emptying the cute little peas into a bowl. At first you're delighted by your progress--look at the peas in this bowl that was formerly empty! Observe me creating! And gradually the pea pile begins to grow. Some pods pop open easily; some are resistant little bastards. Some pods are crammed with perfectly formed peas; some have only a couple of withered little things. They all go on the pile. And as you work, you notice that appearances are deceptive--sometimes the big, bright peas have that dry chalky texture, while the teeniest, most unassuming ones can have the sweetest flavour. They all go on the pile.

At some point you'll wonder why you ever started this stupid repetitive task. The pile doesn't look like it's growing. You still have half a tub of peas to shell. You have weird green stuff under your nails. There's a bag of frozen peas in the freezer you could easily have used instead.

Keep adding peas to the pile.

Eventually you'll reach the end. Now you have a pile of peas. Impressive, isn't it? Take a moment to appreciate it. You did that, you produced that whole pile of peas, with your own two hands.

But, as you're probably aware, a pile of peas is not a finished dish. You could eat them as they are, sure, but that's not necessarily the tastiest way to enjoy peas.

So you start refining your pile. You take out all the manky peas, plus the bits of pods and leaves and stems that always seem to sneak in. You cook the peas. How you cook them depends what you want to end up with--mushy peas are different to minted peas are different to that strange pea-foam they make on cooking shows, obviously. Plus everyone's cooking styles are different. One person boils, another blanches, another steams. There is no definitive way of cooking peas.

But every finished pea-based dish starts off with a pile of peas.

And, to round off this tortuous metaphor, a first draft is nothing more or less than a pile of words you've had to dig out of your head and dump onto paper.

Keep piling those peas.

writers (never) retreat

This weekend, ten of us got together to work on our respective projects for the first inaugural Manx Litfest Writing Retreat.

*pauses*

*Googles*

*confirms first and inaugural do mean the same thing*

Damn, I knew it. But, see, the difficulty is I promised myself I wouldn't edit during the Retreat. I would just write, splurge, obtain the vomit-draft, and worry about editing later. And there's the difficulty - it's hard to just write, without going back to fix things, even when (especially when) you can see there's something obviously wrong with what you've just typed.

And it's hard to find time to write, as well. I've complained before that we're all too busy. We have kids and jobs and social lives and pets and Fallout 4 and bottles of wine that won't drink themselves (delete as applicable) and a million other drains on our time. So this Retreat was designed as time set aside for just writing. No housework, no kids, no spouses, no interruptions (some wine).

I've started a new project, with no plan, only the most general idea ("write something in space," my husband says) and the determination to plough forward without looking back. And it was fun. Even during Nanowrimo I never set aside long periods of time to write. It's just never feasible. My Nano stats are (usually) a steady slope of approximately 1,666 words per day building up in increments. Sprints and all-nighters are not part of my usual repertoire.

I've no idea if what I wrote over the weekend is any good, because I've not read it back yet. I've got my momentum and I'm pushing forward with the draft... and I'm hoping we get to do another Retreat at some point in the future because it'd be super-helpful if I could write nearly ten thousand words every weekend...

2015 - end of year writing stats

That's a boring heading, isn't it? Anyways, fresh from the Rakie-spreadsheet, some stats about my writing progress in 2015:

Total Word Count: 359,224
(Total for 2014: 295,670)

I'm happy with that. The main projects I worked on this year were:

Finishing The Extra (my Nano novel from November 2014 which I finally completed in March and have ignored since).
A small amount of work on YA superhero story Search & Destroy.
Rewriting and editing Fourth to the Devil (including dreaded synopsis and query letters).
Finally redrafting my YA time-travel, haunted house bonanza 2114, which was started for Nano 2013 and has now been renamed 2116 in honour of how unnecessarily long it's taken me to complete.
Notes on a supernatural crime story, White Death, that I really want to start work on.
Completed NaNoWriMo 2015 with Animal Bones, a rewrite of one of my earliest stories.
And the first draft of Floor 156, a dystopian thriller which I'm pretty sure no one will ever get to read, ever (some things are only written for our own funsies).

Oh, and the ebook of Home Ground came out. :)

One resolution for last year was to write every day, which I just about managed, although it was a close call on a few days and frequently I achieved only a few scribbled notes. Even so, I appear to have averaged approximately 980 words a day (allowing a margin for my shoddy maths), which is very respectable if true.

I also resolved that drawing counted as writing. This was to encourage me to devote more time to drawing, and I assigned an arbitrary word count to time spent (given a picture's worth a thousand words, and all that). I didn't finish anything major, aside from some wedding invites for my sister that turned out okay, but I'm happy that I spent a little more time than usual on a skill I've sadly neglected.

Soooo... projects for 2016...

First and last I need to finish the rebranded 2116. I'm at the horrible stage of editing where you read everything aloud and agonise for hours about word choice ("Do I mean bright or do I mean clear? Is spiderwebbing a real word? Is a culvert what I think it is?"). After that I need to redraft all the crap I wrote last year.

And then I have a stolen idea about dragons that I want to pursue...

In 2016 I will write. I will read. I will draw. I will blog. It's also likely I will drink too much wine and shout at cooking shows on TV. In my spare moments I might sleep. Also, Fallout 4.

Best wishes to you all for a shiny 2016. ("SHINY! That's the word I want!")

how many drafts?

This came up in conversation a while ago: how many drafts do you do on each novel before you consider it finished?

Which led to the further question: what do you count as a draft?

My idea of a first draft differs hugely from someone else's idea. What I consider a second draft could be considered a third draft by some, or a not-even-first draft by others. It was interesting to see how opinions differed, and it revealed a lot about everyone's working habits.

This is how it breaks down for me... or, more accurately, how I'd define my drafts:

The first draft is the one with the spelling errors.
The second draft is the one with the plot holes.
The third draft is the one with the character problems.
The fourth draft is the one with the niggly little problems that are a complete ball-ache to fix.
The fifth draft is the one with the overwriting.

More accurately still, those are the times when I realise those problems are present and attempt to fix them. :)

So, for me (and I'm speaking exclusively about me here, since everyone's methods are different and no one should attempt to imitate me in anything ever), the first draft tends to be written as fast as possible and is therefore a bit of a hot mess. The first sweep I do it is mostly to make notes, figure out what works and what doesn't, fix some obvious problems, and generally sit with my head in my hands wondering how the hell this story will ever be made good. While I'm at it, I tend to fix any spelling errors I see. I know other people will advise not bothering with things like that at this early stage (chances are that the amended paragraphs will eventually be discarded anyway), but if I leave the spelling errors they'll annoy me every time I read through the story, and that distracts me from the process of, y'know, actual fixing.

At this point I can see where the plot is falling down. So the next draft is for shoring up the gaping holes.

The completed second draft is usually the one I send out to my writing groups for critiquing. I don't like to send it out any earlier because... well, if there're really obvious problems then I should be able to spot them myself. It's not polite to waste everyone's time asking about things I already know, and I'd much rather get their valuable input on the things I can't spot - which is usually everything else.

I find it very difficult, for example, to identify problems with characters, probably because I'm too close to them, and tend to find them charming and endearing rather than, say, obnoxious and annoying. I need someone else to point that out to me.

So the third draft is for fixing up the terrible characters. Which in turn usually creates more plot difficulties (at least for me) as the characters start to act/react in different ways.

Writing groups are also the best way I've found to spot the niggly little ball-ache problems. This can cover just about everything else - POV issues, technical mistakes, problems with pacing and dialogue, etc. Some of these are obviously easier to fix than others. And some create more plot holes or character difficulties, so then I've got to go back and fix those as well...

By now I'm completely sick of this story and just wish it would disappear into a hole forever. On the other hand, it's also the point where the story is finally taking shape and the finish line is in sight. Or, alternatively, it's where I realise the story is never going to work - its foundations are too wonky, its plot is too blah, or I've inadvertently stolen the entire middle section from a much better book. But I'm too close to finished now so all I can do is push for the end...

Final draft is for clearing out the overwriting. I overwrite a LOT. I don't know what the national average is, but I'm sure my writing is towards the top-heavy end. To be fair, I try to take out some of the overwriting as I go through the other drafts, again because otherwise I can't properly see what I'm doing, and because it annoys me. But on this final sweep I'll try to take out everything that's not needed. Take out the unnecessary adverbs, dialogue tags, redundant sentences and repeated words. Leave only the good stuff. Which is, obviously, much easier to say than do.

And then I'll read the bloody thing through once more, this time aloud. This is to catch any remaining awkward phrasing, bad dialogue, residual spelling mistakes (yes, they're still there), and that sort of thing. It's also my least favourite bit of the whole process, because a) I am SO SICK of reading this story by now, and b) I hate the sound of my own voice (not that you'd believe it, I know).

It all makes me quite nostalgic for the innocent times when I used to think the process of writing a novel was just writing it down, printing it out, then putting up your feet and feeling chuffed with yourself.