NaNoWriMo, for those of you without much interest in the wacky worlds of the internet or those folks who call themselves writers, is National Novel Writing Month, an increasingly popular event that unites writers of just about every type and caliber as each strives to produce a 50,000 word novel (or the first 50k of a longer work) within the month of November.
And I don't quite get it.
The reasons why are many and varied, but for the purposes of this post, I think we can narrow it down to the main three.
1. I Find Writing To Be An Intensely Personal Activity
Don't get me wrong, gone are the days when I kept a bottle of Jack and a pack of Marlboro on hand at all times, writing frantically and drunkenly into the early hours as though tomorrow depended on it (and - unsurprisingly - producing a fair amount gibberish along the way), but that doesn't mean I'm ready to join a group of like-minded individuals and (deep breath) share. I've been writing pretty steadily since I started this blog, and one of the things I've found is that most of what I've put down on paper in the last year or so isn't really for anyone but me. I'm in the habit, these days, of writing short stories and essays and fragments of longer works without really worrying about who's going to read it or if I'm even going to finish. I have put tens of thousands of words into projects I've no intention of showing anybody ever.
That troubles me, and I wonder if it's part of the reason I don't really feel like a writer anymore. It used to define me. It used to be my way of wrestling with my weird childhood and the fact that I'd turned into kind of an anti-social asshole and borderline alcoholic. It was a way of making myself understood both in my own mind and - for a while there - to a decent-sized group of other people, one of whom I eventually married.
It was a crutch.
Which sort of brings us to the crux of this post before I've even talked about reasons two and three, so let's bring this line of reasoning to a screeching halt for the time being.
2. (In Addition To Being An Anti-Social Asshole) I Have A Nasty Elitist Streak
Here's the truth: NaNoWriMo grates on a very deep nerve for me, and that's mostly because of its insistence on valuing 'enthusiasm and perseverance over painstaking craft'. Now, I realize that everything I'm about to write is going to make me sound like a bastard. I've come to terms with that as a part of my unending quest to understand myself as a person and try to rediscover myself as a writer. I've also come to terms with the fact that it's mostly true.
NaNoWriMo participant, I regret to inform you that there's an excellent chance you're a really poor writer who should probably hang it up and do something more constructive with your time. I realize that there's no absolute, objective benchmark for good and bad writing, but my experience in communal activities with creative people tells me that high standards are usually an early casualty. 'Good' criticism, and this is especially true amongst creative people, who have a universal understanding of just how much it can hurt when someone casually dropkicks your carefully constructed masterpiece into a nearby dumpster, is all too often fluffy and toothless and useless. This has, frankly, always been the case, but in a world where the publishing process is increasingly democratized (and where the very definition of what it is to be 'published' is changing rapidly), it's increasingly problematic. In theory, I like the idea of writers not being beholden to corporate masters. How could I not? But the idea of (and here comes the elitism, I'm afraid) just anybody being able to publish some fuck-awful piece of drivel because their friends liked it and it never found its way to anybody with the balls to say, "Billy, manning the grill at Burger King is what you were born to do. There's no shame in that. Where there is shame is in this 50,000 word run-on paragraph of a novel that reads like the bastard offspring of JK Rowling and a lobotomized chimp having a bad day. The only thing you should ever use a pen for is signing your fucking name, and if I ever catch you trying to pull this shit again, I will punch you repeatedly in the thorax until you are dead," isn't one I find it easy to get on board with. Sorry.
What's the point of writing 50,000 words if they're not 50,000 good words? The most common response I get to that question is that it's harmless fun and that I shouldn't make such an issue out of people who like to write doing just that. It isn't about how good they are. Which makes me wonder why we need NaNoWriMo at all. If you're writing for the hell of it, with no particular desire beyond achieving a number, then doesn't your participation send the message that you're both lacking in the 'painstaking craft' department and short enough on enthusiasm and perseverance that you need an organized event and the encouragement of thousands to get anything done? It's either delusional or it's pointless, and I don't get it. Why not do something worthwhile with your November instead?
In truth, NaNoWriMo as a concept seems designed for people more like me. I am a talented writer. In fact, it's about the only thing I'm truly good at in this life. Sadly, I am not organized. I am lazy. I find most types of enthusiasm childish and annoying. If I'm persevering at something, the motivation is likely vengeance. I have written over 50,000 words before but - all things being equal, and despite the fact that I'd like to - I'm unlikely to do it again without some pretty serious help. Which brings me to my final point.
3. I'm Not Sure I Can Write 50,000 Words In A Month
This investigation of my creative self (and if you can find a more pretentious way to put it than that, you should probably be on a weekend retreat with a bunch of people as annoying as you are) has led me to some obvious and not-so-obvious conclusions. So let's review how they relate to the idea of Michael O'Mahony participating in NaNoWriMo this year.
- My misanthropy and general distaste for enthusiastic amateurs flinging their poo around in 'my' space doesn't exactly make me predisposed to signing up at the website and letting them count my words (the nerve!).
- The very idea of NaNoWriMo annoys me. The fucking abbreviation annoys me. Fuck you!
- I not-so-secretly believe that the concept of NaNoWriMo might be incredibly beneficial to me.
- I don't care for creative circle jerks. I believe that most serious writers already have the answers to the questions they ask and are looking for validation rather than knowledge. My own personal need has very little to do with scratching that itch. You already know whether or not your ass looks big in those pants. Put them on or don't, and stop fucking asking me about it.
- I'm long past the point of self-help books and all that 'getting things done' garbage. I am lazy and unmotivated and if I never fulfil my potential in this one area, that will be why.
- The ultimate roadblock here is accountability. On the one hand, we have lazy, unmotivated, wildly unenthusiastic Michael, who clearly needs a kick in the ass with steel-toed boots. On the other, fuck-all-of-you-bastards-and-
All this being the case, I see only one way forward: MiNoWriMo. Michael's Novel Writing Month. All the rules are the same except that my participation will take place outside the system and with the assistance of a few select individuals yet to be named, who will be tasked with determining my success or failure.
It'll be a beautiful disaster. Details soon.
posted at 11:27 PM