December 1, 2015 by Amy
Resurfacing
I have been gone from here, but oh, how I’ve been writing!*
I participated in National Novel Writing Month, or NaNoWriMo to those of us familiar with the program, committing to get at least 50,000 words – the length of an average novel – down on paper in 30 days. I looked at my calendar before the month started and grimaced at all the commitments. I put M on notice that I was doing this, and that I’d need help. I scheduled one day each week to take vacation from work, if needed, in order to catch up because I worried about falling behind before I even started.
1,667 words each day. That’s it. And that’s a lot. Try writing 1,667 words about one topic and you’ll see that it’s not as easy as it sounds. I started out on fire, and kept going. It turns out that when you do something every single day it becomes a habit. And when you love what you’re doing, it’s not something to dread. Even when I opened up the laptop and pulled up the blank page without a clue what I was going to write, I was happy. It’s hard work, but it brings great joy.
Some nights the writing flowed easily, and I blew the 1,667 daily goal away. Doubling it, even. Other days, it was a struggle, and I felt like I watched the word tally click up even as I typed, just trying to reach that daily goal. I learned that it’s very easy for me to get lost in my writing, using it to blank out the rest of the world. This is both good and bad. I can tune out a busy coffee shop or kids running around or other writers talking. But I can also get pretty snappy when directly and frequently interrupted. This happens at home, constantly. I learned pretty quick that it was never wise to try to write in the heart of our family together time each evening. Too many interruptions (where is my t-shirt, have you seen my keys, did you respond to that email, can we talk about…, hey did you see…) led to me losing my temper and flaring with aggravation. I never want my family to be an aggravation, so I stopped writing while Zoe was awake and if M wasn’t lost in his own work. Writing isn’t something I can pop in and out of, like editing photographs. Trains of thought lead in different directions and I must follow or the flow is ruined. If I have to break off to describe where the graham crackers are located in the pantry, I go right off the rails.
Since I couldn’t write until after Zoe was in bed and M and I were finished with all the stuff that comes with married life, this sometimes meant I wrote when it was late and I was tired. I was never too tired to write, though, which was good, but I easily lose track of time when working and so went to bed too late many nights. I started carting my new, small laptop everywhere. Since it has a solid-state drive, start-up is nearly instantaneous. If I knew I’d have a few minutes waiting for a lunch date, I’d pull it out and bang out two or three hundred words. A drop, but a start. I found that I can write in all kinds of places. And I found that I can write every single day.
For 31 days now, I carved out time to write every single day, and in that time I wrote over 60,000 words. A book. I wrote a book. The NaNoWriMo goal is 50,000 words. In case you’re wondering what a book of 50,000 words looks like, here are a few that clock in right around that mark:
- The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy
- The Notebook
- The Red Badge of Courage
- The Great Gatsby
- Of Mice and Men
- Slaughterhouse-Five
- As I Lay Dying
- Fahrenheit 451
You may have heard of these. I’m not saying my book is anywhere close to these pillars of the literary world, but if my book were published, it would work just as well as any of these as a door stop.
No, you can’t read it. I will never submit it for publication, and I’ll be lucky if I ever even edit it into something I’d let anyone else read. I didn’t write 60,000+ words for publication. I wrote 60,000+ words for me. I wrote to prove to myself that I can write a book, that I am a writer. I wrote to prove to myself that with a full-time job and the responsibilities of a child and a husband and a home and friends and family and volunteering and all the other hats I wear, I can still find time to write every day. Must find time to write every day. I learned things that I will use in my next book, and the one I started earlier this year but stalled on. I learned things that will help me craft a story that I will submit for publication. This, my friends, is a most excellent use of 60,000 words.
In the last 31 days, I wrote at my desk, on the couch, in a chair pulled up to the fireplace, at the kitchen counter, and in bed. I wrote at Starbucks and Kaldi’s. I wrote in the Starbucks parking lot once when I realized I didn’t want a coffee after all, I just wanted to write. I wrote in the car outside of the piano teacher’s house (more than once), and on her couch. I wrote when I was tired and sad and hungry, and when I was caffeinated and happy and full. I wrote when I was angry, realizing after I wrote that the anger was gone. I wrote early in the morning before anyone was up, and late at night after everyone was asleep, sometimes both in the same day. I wrote even when I didn’t want to write, and learned that while it might be hard to write some days, it’s far better than not writing at all.
I wrote a book in the last 30 days. 60,000 words and counting.
I think I’m fairly tapped out with that particular piece now. It’ll sit in the proverbial drawer, and I’ll pull it out every once in awhile to take a look at it and prove to myself again that I can write a book.
And, most importantly, I’ll keep writing.
*I’ve also been reading. Because writers need to read. It’s almost as important as the writing. I read Still Alice, and had to stop reading because it hit too close to home, and then went back and finished it. Two Neil Gaiman books, because the man is a writing god and a genius, part of Jenny Lawson’s new book, a Shirley Jackson and half of another Shirley Jackson. It’s been a good month of reading. I highly recommend all of these books.
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