naNOvella

It's with due humility that I report my recent fiction writing experiment. I was, most unfortunately, far from success in my 50k writing endeavor. Indeed, I'd be happy to claim a 10% success rate, but it certainly doesn't feel even like that much (more in sentiment than in numbers).

It has, however, given me a lot to (for better or worse) reflect on about my writing, process, &c. &c. &c. Here are some things I've learned:

• While I know that 5k words in possible in a single day, I neglected to remember that one of the key facets of NaNo is that you just need to push forward and often this involves not caring over much about what comes out.
• Also on the 5k dilemma, it is easier to hit that number once you've already warmed up and have it on a practically juicy part. Novellas, because of their brevity, aren't as apt to that kind of fast and loose (ie rambley) flow. 
• It turns out that I'm not as inclined to write straight through a narrative progression as I'd formerly thought. Indeed, that process ran me straight into a number of road blocks. Easier, I found, was jumping section to section as my interest was piqued. (With notes to situate the sections.) This is, however, precisely the opposite of my process for NaNo. Oh well, I guess.

Here are some things I was telling myself to get me going:

• Just write through it. That is to say, write the narrative in a skeletal frame so as to produce the full story in a quick microcosm. Turns out that cuts you off from the fun and interesting part of writing which is following all the little deviations to see where they take you. 

Oddly enough, I have to say that I don't think my heart was in it. Or that my heart and my head were so radically at odds that there was no "in it" to be had.

So my overall sentiment is that this experiment was a failure. It was, however, an instructive failure. Not in the most exciting and enlivening way. No. Instead, the type of instructive that tells you that something is quite amiss and will require you to return for a lengthy stay at the drawing board.

Such that this doesn't turn into purely psychoanalytic self-flagellation, I'll just say that I have a great passion for the narratives that go on growing and mutating inside of my head. I have not yet, however, found a way to accurately express that passion or communicate that vision on the page. A sad fact, but unlikely to deter me from continuing to try. 

My next endeavor follows a path perhaps more suited to my current frustrations as it intends to register them. I'll be taking up a project with the idea of Dostoevsky's The Gambler in mind. The joy of this story is that it is all about extremes, every moment is a precipice in which everything might fall to ground. Should be perfect for the fast paced writing mode I'm feeling write now.

And with that, I'm up off the ground dusting off my trousers and off again to the optimism of my internal narrative screen.