5 Lessons I Learned from NaNoWriMo by Caroline Starr Rose

It was with a bit of reluctance I decided to join National Novel Writing Month in 2013. For those of you unfamiliar with NaNoWriMo, it's a month-long challenge to produce 50,000 words on a new piece of writing. (Chris Eboch ran an excellent post on NaNo earlier this week.) I'd tried NaNo in 2009 and failed miserably. I never, ever was going to do it again. But that fall things came together in such a way that joining in made sense:

• My verse novel, Blue Birds, was off with my editor
• I was at the point with my research for a new novel that I was itching to get started
• I read this blog post by Darcy Pattison
• My critique partner, Valerie Geary, promised me peanut butter cookies if I made it through

I didn't sign up officially. Instead I created a contest of one I called Fake-o NaNo*, where I aimed to write 1500 words a day six days a week. I missed one day, had a good number of sessions I didn't hit 1500 (and a couple I wrote more), and felt finished with the draft a few days before Thanksgiving -- the exact day Blue Birds "flew" back to me in a big padded envelope.

Here are five things I learned from the experience:

1. Slow and steady is my typical writing mantra. But sometimes fast and furious is just as important. Typically, I write verse novels and picture books. It's a sloooow process, especially when I'm initially drafting. But this novel was in prose, something I hadn't tried for seven or eight years. Throwing words on a page was a very liberating, non-committal way to reintroduce myself to this form. With my first NaNo attempt, I got stuck during the first week and decided to stop. This time around was no different. I faced the same impossible rut one week in. But I kept moving, mainly by sticking to the next lesson I learned.
2. Sometimes you just have to write about the writing. While I'd kept a journal for this book since the previous spring, I still had a lot of exploring to do. Many days I found myself writing about what was working in the story and what wasn't. Things I'd have to look further into, characters I needed to add, relationships I needed to develop. Really, the draft became a running commentary, an in-the-moment chance to reflect on my ideas (or lack of them).
3. Practice holds the fear at bay. The creative process is a scary thing for me, and beginning (and finishing) a first draft is my biggest challenge. By holding myself to a daily goal, I was able to break through some of that fear by simply showing up and doing the work.
4. Embrace the mess. The "draft" I finished with was most definitely the messiest, worst thing I've ever written. But it was such a great experiment in getting words down, feeling out characters, and sometimes learning exactly what I didn't want to write about (by first doing just that). Knowing I could toss it all took me in some directions I might never have discovered if my approach had been more careful.
5. Did I mention the cookies? Committing out loud to a friend kept me honest. And the cookies were a great pay off!

In February this NaNo novel hits the shelves as Jasper and the Riddle of Riley's Mine. As I think back to that draft I created three Novembers ago, the finished book holds little in common with it. But it was the starting place my story -- and my character -- desperately needed. Without that month of steady work, Jasper wouldn't be the boy he's become. I'm sure of that.

What are your plans for National Novel Writing month?

* I hadn't heard of the so much fancier "Faux NaNo" at the time, which I don't think is an official thing, just another name for a make-your-own version of NaNoWriMo.

First Drafts by Joanna Roddy

 *All photos are from my writing residency last week at Fort Worden on the Washington Coast. 
  

This past week I've been holed up in a cabin working on the first draft of a new novel. I've taken writing retreats in the rewriting/editing stages of a project, but not really for drafting. I had thought that the time and space and silence would make the writing process fly by, the way it had for my previous editing efforts, but in fact I've found (surprise, surprise!) that each movement forward on a first draft is just as hard-fought, just as murky, just as slow as it is at home. I just have more time all put together to agonize over it. (Lucky me!)

In all seriousness, I am immensely grateful for this time. This is now my second time working on the first draft of a full-length fiction project and I'm learning a lot that I wanted to share with you.

1. Freedom. Now that I know what an editing process looks like for me, I'm not so hung up on perfecting every aspect of the draft. With my first novel I would get very focused on progressing through the story correctly so that I spent a lot of time hesitating, nit-picking, or completely stalled out. Now, I'm just getting the story down as it occurs to me. I do pause to think through the next sequence or to research a place I intend to use for a setting, but then I try to keep moving forward, step by step. I know that later I'll be deconstructing everything, combining, tightening and expanding, and that it will all be clear when I have the whole, finished story to work with. 

2. Trust. I've learned that the story has a life of its own through my creative subconscious, through my characters, and through themes that arise of their own free will. The only way to learn these things is to write the story down and to see what happens in the process. It's ok if I can't see too far ahead. The story will unfold before me.

3. Respect. I understand where the "crappy first draft" idea comes from and it's so necessary for people like me, who need to know that getting the thing down is more important than getting it perfect. But I also think there's a counterpoint to that idea. Because I need to respect the work I'm doing to be able to trust it. Getting it down and moving forward doesn't mean (for me, at least), rushing it or settling. I need to be fully immersed in the story and I can't do that if I feel like my main goal is just amassing words. I need to simply do my best with what I know right now. But I also can accept the imperfection, trusting that when I know more, I'll do even better on later drafts.

My visual reward chart: 1 sticker = 1000 words

4. Grace. I've tried to sit down and pound out 2000 words before lunch like Stephen King does every day. I've tried to write 5000 words in a day like Laini Taylor did on a retreat she blogged about. What I'm learning is that I'm me and my success can only be measured in my own terms. In five full retreat days so far I've written just under 10,000 words and doubled the size of my manuscript from when I arrived. It's not the 17,000 words in three days I accomplished a year ago during a rewrite, but for a first draft, I'm realizing this is a huge success for me. As long as I keep moving forward, despite the not knowing, despite the inner-resistance, despite the challenge, I'm winning.

I'd SO love to hear what's been helpful for others in the first draft stages. I'm a sponge right now for any good advice and I love hearing other people's processes. Please share! 

Oh, and in solidarity with Laini Taylor, apparently she just took a first draft writing retreat too! Her advice, as always, is golden. 

Anatomy of a First Draft by Dianne K. Salerni

I. Genesis:

Every new novel begins with an inspiration comparable to The Big Bang – an explosion of light and matter and creative force capable of producing an entire universe, not to mention critical acclaim, several awards, and New York Times best seller status.  

Of course, in the light of the next day, what appeared to be the genesis of life usually turns out to be one of those sparklers you stick in your lawn on the Fourth of July.  But, hey, any light in the darkness is better than none!

II. Pre-Writing:

Here’s where first drafts begin to diverge.  Plotters will tackle the characterization, plot, and theme with the precision of architects and engineers.

Pantsters, on the other hand, will scribble a couple notes on a napkin before strapping on a harness and a bungee cord and leaping off a cliff.

III. One Quarter of the Way In:

About 15-20k words into the story, pantsters find themselves wrestling an alligator.  It’s suddenly a squirming fury of snapping jaws and wicked teeth, with a thrashing tail and a hide too tough to penetrate.  They realize, while fighting for limb and life, that this is not what they envisioned back in that Big Bang stage!

Meanwhile, plotters look at that carefully designed and meticulously implemented story structure they created and discover it looks more like:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/69237022@N00/384038075

IV. Playing Possum:

No matter where the writer is on the continuum between pantster and plotter, at some point the first draft will look like this:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/baggis/5798341673/

It’s not dead. It’s just playing dead.  Poke it with a stick.  Poke it again.  Google possums on the internet and verify: It can’t really be dead. It’s faking. Isn’t it?

V. The Home Stretch:

Assuming the possum isn’t really dead, the story begins to move again.  The writer breathes life into it, then can’t stop to catch a breath.  Plotters find themselves back on their outline; pantsters discover their subconscious was right all along.  The story moves so fast, the writer can barely keep up.  Forget sleep. Forget meals.  Forget the children and the husband – they know how to use the microwave, gosh darn-it!

VI. The Masterpiece:

Finally, after a few weeks (or months, or years) of toil, the writer produces the first draft of that brilliant masterpiece, first conceived in a moment of ultimate creativity.

And it looks like this:

Oh well, it’s yours anyway, and you love it.  Besides, you’ve had some Big Bang-ish ideas for Draft #2, and there’s still plenty of time to get your Michelangelo on!

Document Map, a Tutorial by Matthew MacNish

Document Map is a setting in Word that lets you navigate around a document quickly, and view the layout of a document at a glance. This is especially useful when dealing with a long document like a novel manuscript. Now that I know how to use this feature properly, I have no idea how I worked on writing without it.

Most of the Project Mayhem authors probably already know about it, but when I learned about the Document Map recently, and then shared about it on Facebook, I was amazed how many writers I know didn't know about it.

So, I'm going to write this post based on Microsoft Word 2007, which is what I own, and what I write in, but my understanding is that the feature exists in everything since Office XP (Word 2003), and is even better in Word 2010. Enabling and using the feature might be a little different in the different versions, but I'm sure you can Google the settings for whichever version you use.

For MS Word 2007, here is a screenshot of how you enable the function:

So that's VIEW on the banner, then click the box next to "Document Map," to place a check mark in it, and then the Document Map pane will appear to the left of the document itself (that dropdown menu can also show thumbnails).

When you're ready to create your first heading (in a novel this might be the title), which is like the highest level in the tree directory of an outline, you need to switch back to HOME on the banner. That will allow you to select style, as seen here:

The default format is probably not how you want it to look in a novel, but we'll get to customizing it in a moment. For now, light blue 14-point Cambria works fine when creating an example outline. I'll show you what this does to the Document Map pane in a second.

For now, you'll need at least one sub-heading to create a directory tree. This is what that looks like:

Keep in mind, that these styles only appear with these default settings when you open a new document. I have found that when trying to add these setting to a manuscript I first started years ago, the styles are all kinds of wonky. You can edit them manually, but I've found it much easier to create a new document, build the headings exactly how you want, and then paste the rest of your text in.

So, now that you know how to enable Document Map, and how to create the first two headings, this is what an example outline looks like, with four levels of headings, and then what that does to the document map pane on the left:

That's a little blurry, so here's a closeup of the map pane:

Isn't that convenient? Imagine a manuscript with 3 sections, and 34 chapters. It is so much faster to be able to jump around the document using this feature, expanding and contracting your headings on the left, and then clicking on whatever section you need to jump to. This feature is amazing during revisions. I have a friend, Adam Heine (who also actually taught me this feature), who even uses a level 5 heading for each scene within his chapters. I haven't found this necessary yet, but the fact that the option is there is pretty nice.

Now, you probably don't like light blue 14-point Cambria to show up in your novel manuscript, so how do you edit the formatting of these headings, so that it fits the style of your writing? There is apparently a way to do it by right clicking the text and then clicking on the paragraph settings, but I've found it much easier to right click the style, and the "modify," like this:

Which will bring up this window, that allows you to customize how you want the style (heading) to look:

Note the outlined font color of "Automatic," (which is basically black), the outlined centering of the paragraph, rather than "aligned left," and the font changed to "Times New Roman," which is the default in the majority of the publishing industry, rather than "Cambria." Now, I didn't change the font from 13-point to 12-point for this example image, but in a novel manuscript, even for a chapter title/heading, you probably should. Some agents and editors may ask for something different, and you can certainly Google, "default manuscript formatting," for better expert opinions than mine, but I keep the entire text of my manuscripts in 12-point Times New Roman, automatic color.

You might not want to center your chapter headings, and that's certainly fine if you don't, but the point is that this window is how you control those formatting options for every single piece of text that uses that style (heading). Modifying Heading 2, for example, will change the formatting for every piece of text that you assigned the style "Heading 2," to.

Does that all make sense? I certainly hope so, because I'm pretty new to this, and am definitely no expert. If you have any questions, please be sure to ask them in the comments, and if I don't know the answer, I'll try to find it for you.

The Ebbs and Flows of the First Draft

I’m moody. It’s the first step: admitting you have a problem. I’m not in denial by a long shot. And I’ll take it a step further and admit that this moodiness transfers to my writing as well. That darn first draft will do it to anyone, but with a moody person like me, well, it’s like I’m on a crazy roller coaster and the only way to stop the many ups and downs is to finish the stinkin’ ride. Comparing a first draft to a roller coaster ride is only partially telling, since a roller coaster ride consists of a set amount of time that has a start and an end. But when writing a first draft, it feels like the ups and downs are constant and never-ending. This is why I like to compare the first draft’s ups and downs to the ocean tide with its constant ebbs and flows.

The Flows: There are times when the writing world is beautiful and things are humming along. The ideas come without even asking them to, and I feel like the keyboard is the most welcoming conduit between my brain and the natural telling of the story. I’m happy as a clam when I’m in this kind of groove, and I’m loving all things writing.

The Ebbs: Then there are times when everything sucks and the words are forced. Nothing rings true, my voice is inconsistent and flat, and my characters won’t speak to me. I’m the most irritable person in the world when this happens and I feel like I can’t write at all. That hairy monster, Mr. Doubt, has replaced me at the keyboard and is laughing at me. 

So you’d think someone who recognizes these ups and downs would be more comfortable when they surface and have a plan of attack for dealing with them. Right? Um...kinda. What I mean is, I have tried so very hard to tell myself “this too shall pass” when I’m up against an ebb, and it helps to a certain extent, but what I’ve found helps a bit more is to stop writing—period—and go back to something else I’ve written that is 100% polished. It builds my confidence back to where it needs to be, and then I find that if I go back to that point in my first draft where the ebb occurred, the ebb subsides and I get back into the flow. Don’t get me wrong, the ebbs still stink like fish left out in the blazing sun for a week. But it’s good to have a method to help get back in the flow.

You probably won’t be surprised to hear that I’m in the middle of a first draft at the moment, so I’d be happy to add your strategy to my arsenal because I’m sure I’ll face a few more ebbs before I’m finished. So, tell me, what do you do to help avoid, or get out of, the many ebbs of the first draft?