NaNoWriMo 2020 - My Rewarding Journey of Failure

Ah yes… it’s that time of year again: National Novel Writing Month (notoriously known as NaNoWriMo).

Every writer knows about this overwhelming challenge that rears its monstrous head every November: 50,000 words in 30 days- roughly 1,667 words a day. I completed the NaNoWriMo challenge in 2017 and let me tell you, it was amazing and daunting. Hitting 1,667 a day is impressive for any writer, but this daily goal becomes especially difficult when you’re already precariously navigating work, school, fitness/self-care, or family obligations. Now, repeat that daily word count and life-juggling act for 30 days. It is no small feat.

You may look at this challenge and think “why would anyone do this to themselves?” Every writer has their own reason for diving headfirst into this month-long slog and, if I’m being honest, I originally wasn’t going to participate this year (because yeah, it’s hard!). It wasn’t until I was chatting with a writer friend of mine (Hey, Kilroy!) in late October, when he asked me how my writing was progressing since publishing my first novel the month before, that it struck me:

I was stuck. Like, really fucking stuck. I released Valkyrie in early September and spent so much time and energy clawing my way through the business of self-publishing that, when the time came to begin writing the sequel, I found myself paralyzed. I would sit down to work on the outline and be filled with unsettling anxiety and uncertainty:

·         What if the readers don’t like where I take the characters?

·         What if the character development is garbage?

·         What if the plot falls flat?

·         What if my writing isn’t as good as the first book?

·         What if I disappoint the readers who enjoyed the first book?

·         What if my first book was a fluke, and I’m actually just a shit writer?

I was drowning in self-doubt, and that self-doubt had crippled me.

In steps my friend Kilroy with his suggestion to participate in NaNoWriMo. What better way to jump-start your writing, he suggested, than to hurl yourself into an environment where you literally do not have time to second-guess your choices. When you have 30 days to write 50k words, you don’t have time to constantly go back and edit what you’ve already written, you don’t have the time to obsess over perfection. You just… write. It’s as simple (and hard) as that.

So that is exactly what I did. I bit down my self-doubt, took a deep breath, and dove in. I embraced the chaos of it all and braced for the imminent stress that would accompany it.

I even bought a NaNoWriMo crewneck for motivation. (It is my new favorite item of clothing)

I started the otherwise daunting month like a champ- my character’s dialogue flowed, plot points hit scene after scene, and I crushed my daily 1,667 word count every single day. Sure, election week, and the precarious thread of democracy that still feels ready to snap at any moment, unnerved me and knocked me off-balance. My creative focus took a hit, but I pushed through it and celebrated my first week of NaNoWriMo with a dangerously premature sense of confidence.

My stupid-confidence carried me into week two, when life slowly began chipping away at my resolve. I would wake up in the mornings to exercise before work, put in my hours either in the office or teleworking, and then plug away at my scrappy manuscript. I was carrying on with a steady clip until life knocked on my door:  both my father-in-law and grandmother were diagnosed with COVID-19. My father-in-law was in the ICU, my grandmother was hospitalized and on oxygen. My grandfather later also tested positive for COVID. My wife and I discussed the possibility of taking emergency leave from work to fly back to the United States to be with our families. We were afraid for other loved ones who were exposed. In that same week, a friend from high school died suddenly, and his passing struck me harder than I anticipated it would. I cried a lot that week, and getting my daily word count was no longer a priority. My writing suffered and I fell behind. But I kept pushing and found some solace in losing myself in characters that I love. By the end of the week, both my father-in-law and grandmother were thankfully getting better and released from the hospital. We breathed a sigh of relief, and I rolled into my third week of NaNoWriMo with a story that was finally taking shape.

Week three. Fucking week three. I plugged away every damn day to reach my daily word count; some days I clapped my hands and told my wife “I did it!”, and other days I rubbed my hands in my face muttering “just 500 more words…”. My job became particularly busy during this week, and finding the energy to eek my way through 1,667 words every evening became increasingly challenging. And then life kicked down my door again:  my father-in-law was readmitted to the hospital for a second time, and his mother was rushed into the ICU and put on a ventilator after her own COVID-19 diagnosis. It breaks my heart to share that there is a narrow chance for her recovery. My heart hurt for my wife and her mother. I was also worried for my own grandparents who were isolating at home, with my grandmother still quite ill and on oxygen. Every night we went to sleep worried for our loved ones back home, and every morning we awoke afraid to check our phones for updates. (BONUS HEARTBREAK: my mother broke the news to my sister and me that our beloved ancient family cat, who I brought home when I was a sophomore in HS, was being put down for medical reasons. I’ll always love you, Kelly <3)

How in the hell am I supposed to focus on writing in this emotional headspace?! I was Sisyphus rolling the boulder up the mountain, and either the climb was becoming steeper or I was becoming weaker. I fell behind on my word count by almost 4,000 words, and I knew I had to spend my remaining weekends and Thanksgiving holiday clawing to catch-up.

And then November 20th happened. That Friday was especially strenuous at work, and I returned home emotionally and mentally exhausted. I laid down on the couch and couldn’t bring myself to get back up again. Even though I was behind on my word count, I resigned to give myself a break that night by playing some video games online with some friends and a gin and tonic. And yep, you guessed it, life came at me again! My mother left a voice message over our family group chat telling us that my grandmother was admitted to the hospital again for complications with her COVID symptoms. FUCK. FUCK FUCK FUCK.

I went to sleep with a raging headache that was still drumming when I awoke the next morning. I sat on the couch in front of my laptop, deflated and empty knowing how much harder I would have to work to reach my 50,000 word in time. It was in that moment that reluctantly decided:

I’ve done enough. It’s time to stop.

The decision to step away from NaNoWriMo hinged on choosing to complete the 50,000 words or pursuing self-care, and I chose self-care. It was not a decision I made lightly, as I hate quitting and will often sacrifice my own well-being if it means I can reach a goal. But I know it was the right decision because instead of disappointment, all I feel is a sweeping wave of relief.

Did I fail to reach 50,000 words within 30 days? Yes, I did. In that metric, I have failed NaNoWriMo and I’m not ashamed to admit that. It happens.

But did I fail to fulfill the purpose behind NaNoWriMo? Absolutely not! I began this challenge crippled with self-doubt, unable to even map the trajectory of my book’s plot from beginning to end. I was lost and creatively paralyzed. NaNoWriMo provided me the jumper cables to shock me back into my senses, and I’m now 30,000 words closer to a more complete draft with a clear path of where I want to take my characters. NaNoWriMo has given me direction and helped me set a regular writing schedule again. Except now instead of 1,667 words, I can focus instead on just doing what I can depending on what life throws at me.

So please, if you did not finish your NaNoWriMo 50k word count goal, do not beat yourself up! Because no matter how far you got in your manuscript, you made progress. Whether its in setting a more regular writing habit, tossing aside perfection or getting bogged down in editing, or getting the first heavy chunk of your story down on paper- you did that, and you should be proud of yourself.

Keep going, and keep writing. And please, above all else, take care of yourself.

(And for fuck’s sake, wear a mask)