My son, El Punko tried for a few years to convert
me to Nano. To be honest, I thought the
idea was madness because of the time frame – 50,000 words in 30 days. My writing has to percolate to mature, which
in itself is a drag, but not all of us are born with genius. The trouble here was that I confused writing
with editing.
A few years ago, Nano came during the semester of
my MA when we were doing the novel. The
tutor presented structure like a cake recipe – follow this outline and you have
great literature. Since I don’t cook, I
should’ve had better sense, but I thought, okay, take her recipe and do Nano.
There was a wonderful madness about that first
year. A word count goal, a map to get me
there, friends who were running the same marathon. Intrinsic to the madness, however, is
discipline. Like a marathon runner, you
cannot stop to pet a dog or watch the buzzards fly over the copse. You have to run.
So for a writer, that means you cannot stop and
rewrite a phrase to make it brilliant. You
cannot stop to research the correct colour of a room on the other side of the
world or look up mythology or even the spelling of a foreign language
phrase. You mainline your creativity into
words. If you have two or three separate
ways that a scene can go, you don’t stop to analyse; you write both of them.
Perhaps it’s more like skiing than running. Although actually, I’ve never skied. Maybe sled (sledge) riding then, when you
push yourself off the edge of a snowy slope and hope for the best during that liberating
mad dash, the cold wind gnawing on your cheeks, the sled bumping up and down,
maybe getting bogged in new snow or wheeeeeeeee scary speed over a patch of
ice. The freedom (and speed) comes from
putting aside all the rules of grammar and good taste to say what you’ve always
wanted to say in the way you want to say it even when you know that those sort
of words and crap phrases and trite scenarios and shallow characters aren’t
going to make it to print. Hell’s bells, you’re writing and it is this honesty in the first draft
that will lead you to something fantastic.
The clean up comes later, maybe with a cup of hot
cocoa or an Irish whiskey. But for now,
open your wings, cast off your inhibitions, park your butt and write.
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