by Joan Baier
The president, Kim Gore, of our writing group, LCRW, wrote a recent blog about the Nanowrimo event, beginning November 1. She got me thinking…
That unique sobriquet, Nanowrimo, is actually the acronym for National Novel Writing Month, a national effort on the part of writers to complete a 50,000 word novel in the month of November. A Herculean project, to say the least.
I actually tried to participate last year. But, to tell the truth, I didn’t complete either the novel or the participation. As a matter of fact, I just checked my file and discovered that I was a member for only four days and had written only my brief synopsis. But I think I’m going to join the undertaking again this November, even though there were several things I didn’t like about the program last year. For instance, November is such a busy month to begin with: Christmas shopping, Thanksgiving (and all the baking, preparing for overnight guests, extra housekeeping, etc.), holiday entertaining. These activities are not to be taken lightly, at least for those of us who lead the band in those areas.
Writing an average of 1667 words a day, every day, for a month straight, is, as I said above, a Herculean effort. Put that on top of the busyness of the month, and our poor old buddy, Sisyphus, comes to mind. However, maintaining that kind of attitude kills the incentive, the spirit, of it all before you even start.
So here are the positives: the powers that be in Wrinonamo have set up a wonderful program, which keeps track of the numbers of words you write, which regularly cheers you on, boosts your morale, and lets you know where you stand, among the others, in the midst of it all. If you really want to do this, they make it as easy as possible for you to work through it.
Wow. I think I just talked myself into signing up! So this is my official notice: except for Thanksgiving Day and the day before it, when I’ll be baking pumpkin and lemon pies and roasting a 25-lb. turkey, don’t expect to see me or hear from me next month. I’ll be glued to my keyboard, staring at my screen, thinking, conniving, solving. I’ve already worn the letters e, r and t from my keyboard. By December 1, the whole rest of the keyboard letters may be worn away.
But I’ll have that novel finished!
Want to join me?