The Writing Bug

Every November, thousands of writers around the world participate in National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo) to write the first draft of their next novel. I never thought I’d have the time to do it, but when I got a leave of absence from my commercial pilot job, I gave it a whirl. I set a two-thousand word goal per day in an attempt to finish before a family roadtrip to Colorado for Thanksgiving. I worried about failing and did long walks to manage the stress.

Figuring out my work space seemed critical. I have a great desk for Zoom meetings, but I never write at it. I often use the kitchen table or a rocking chair in our loft to write. For longer sessions, I needed a more comfortable place to crank out the words. A few days into this creative sprint, I migrated to my grandfather’s recliner in the bedroom. Grampee used to read his news magazine in this chair then nap in the afternoon. It’s really comfortable. I could stretch out to the full recline position whenever I got bound up.

My cat Hawk was a little put out. He happens to love Grampee’s chair. My long stays in the recliner each day annoyed him. It took a while, but we finally learned to share the space. I turned on a lava lamp on the nightstand whenever I began a session. It gave me a visual reminder of the flow of words. I also moved an ancient stereo into the room along with many of my classical CDs from my pre-streaming days to play all my old favorite recordings as I spun my tale.

Initially, I felt like I was stumbling around in a dark hotel room trying to find a light switch, but bumping into furniture instead. I tried to write my daily word count in one session, but it felt like climbing a cliff without a safety rope. I started to have serious doubts about my success. I remembered Anne Lamott’s book, Bird By Bird, about tackling goals in smaller bites, and I quickly figured it out. I split my writing sessions in two. I did one thousand words in the morning, followed, a few hours later, by another thousand words in the afternoon. It felt much more manageable.

In the middle of the day, I exercised and tended to life’s usual distractions. Occasionally, the second session came far too late in the afternoon. I had to miss an author’s get-together one night because I hadn’t finished my words that day. Falling behind wasn’t an option. Even if it took me late into the night, I never lagged.

Many writers prepare for NaNoWriMo in October, creating a detailed outline of a new book before the November 1st start date. I am not that person. I knew the beginning and the end of the book and its central theme, but I only had a vague idea of its middle. I’m a big fan of chapter notes, so before diving into a new section, I sketched out an upcoming scene. Whenever I got lost in a chapter, I could reorient myself by reviewing my notes at the top of a chapter.

It took a week to get in the groove, but once I figured out a routine it felt like I had a superpower. A story that had niggled me for years finally shot out of my fingertips onto the digital page, giving me a satisfying jolt of relief. I finally understood how many writers produce multiple books in such a short amount of time. They lean into this annual event for collective support to get that first ugly draft done. It is only a beginning point, but critical for establishing a road map that often includes multiple rewrites.

Updating my progress on the NaNoWriMo website, I earned digital badges for the milestones that I met. When I finally crossed the fifty-thousand-word finish line, I was showered with virtual confetti and sent a certificate to print out and sign.

I’m hoping to finish the final section of my new project in December, but I’m giving myself a pass if I don’t get it done. This Tuesday, I start back to work full time, so it will be much harder to be consistent. NaNoWriMo has proved to me that showing up each day to write has led me in a satisfying direction. In less than one month, I’m two-thirds of the way into writing a second novel. Implausible, when I think of it, but I have the proof saved on my iPad.