November is National Novel Writing Month, NaNoWriMo for short. I’ve participated in NaNoWriMo since 2010 and I’m doing it again this year. Why? A couple of reasons. One, NaNoWriMo is a non-profit organization that supports writing and education and encourages people to tell their stories. I support organizations that support storytelling. Two, by participating I become part of a fun, inspirational, supportive community of fellow Wrimos who understand what I’m going through because they’re going through the same thing. It’s like being invited to the cool kids’ potluck without the sucky parts of feeling like an imposter or worrying no one will eat the dish I brought. Three (okay, that’s a few reasons, not a couple), NaNoWriMo sets a specific goal with a specific deadline—50,000 words by November 30. NaNoWriMo offers resources to help you reach the goal—pep talks, coaches, Twitter word sprints, local groups, write-ins, and more—but you have to put in the work to meet the challenge. I enjoy a challenge.
The downside of NaNoWriMo? I have to confront the fact that I’m a procrastinator. I’ve participated every year since 2010. I have not won most years. My inner demon (inner editor, in NaNoWriMo terms) comes up with a seemingly endless number of ways to distract me and keeping me from hitting 50K. When it comes to my inner editor, the best laid plans of mice and men are shot straight to hell. No amount of planning, scheduling, promising, motivating, or negotiating with myself can prevent my brain from coming up with a sneaky way to derail me. Social media and online shopping are ever-present dangers. But those are too easy for my demon. Facebook and Amazon are low-hanging fruits. My demon’s got to wow me with the brilliant pointlessness of the snares it lays to trap me. Desks suddenly have to be rearranged. Lipsticks have to be sorted. Books have to be re-shelved. A couple of days ago, I had the overwhelming urge to reorganize my refrigerator magnet collection. Seriously. The distractions aren’t all inane. So far this month, I’ve plotted an adult and an MG fantasy, a new mystery series, and a vampire thriller. None of these have anything to do with the manuscript I’m officially working on for NaNoWriMo, but they are great stories (which I jotted down in a notebook and put aside). But, mostly, the distractions are, well, refrigerator magnets.
I’ve got no easy answers or sure-fire tactics for caging the demon. I just have to keep on writing and do my best to ignore the distractions or, at least, give in to them only briefly, acknowledge them as distractions, and get back to work. I’ve given some thought to why my brain does this to me. One reason—my mind is so full of stories (As an introverted only child, making up stories in my head was one of my primary modes of entertainment. It’s practically reflexive now.) that when I open the door to one, dozens, tens of dozens, rush the door trying to get through. “Pick me! Pick me!” they shout as they bombard me. It’s like a stampede at a Black Friday sale. Hence the notebook(s) for jotting random ideas down, in the hope that I can get back to them some day. Another reason—NaNoWriMo encourages you to just let go and write. Unleashed creativity is scary. I operate in a day-to-day world where putting on a game face and knowing when to keep your mouth shut is crucial to professional survival. (And before you @ me—Do you really want to work in a place devoid of professional courtesy, where everybody just dumps on everybody, all the time? No, you don’t, really. Manners matter.) Unleashed means out of control. What if I say (write) something that’s—not nice? Not polite? Not ladylike? What if I unleash and let all those inner demons run rampant all over the page? Scary.
Again, I have no solutions, no Obi Wan-style sage advice. Unlike in my books, I have no occult library with grimoires full of demon-banishing spells. But identifying the problem is the first step to solving it. And I’m a problem-solver. I’ll get there. For now, I’ll content myself with calling myself out when I give in to foolishness. And I’ll remind myself of a couple of the best things about NaNoWriMo: you’re only competing against yourself, it doesn’t matter what anyone else does, and there’s always next November.
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