It’s NaNoWriMo season. National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo)—where writers try to write 50,000 words during the month of November. It’s divisive. Writers tend to love NaNoWriMo or hate it. One of my writer friends thinks it’s the dumbest thing ever. But I love it, and instead of doing my NaNo prep like I’m supposed to, I thought I’d procrastinate and tell you why I love it and what I discovered last year during NaNoWriMo.

Last NaNo

I first participated (and “won”) NaNoWriMo in 2005, the year after I graduated from college. I don’t remember how I heard about it, but it sounded like the kind of creative mountain I wanted to climb after being away from the structure of a classroom. So, I wrote a novel called The Woman Who Swam to Israel. It was my first attempt at writing a novel, so I remember it fondly despite its many flaws. I’ve participated several times over the years, but last year I tried something different. Instead of writing a novel that would never see the light of day because I edit other people’s novels and don’t have time to edit my own, I used the month to write a short story every day. I thought it would help me create work I could later edit into lit mag submissions, which I’m happy to report went according to plan (no acceptances yet).

I started last November as someone with no story ideas who spent most of their creative energy on other people’s stellar projects. Maybe that sounds a little sad? But it’s true. And that’s why last year I decided to carve out the entire month of November to write my own stories, and it was a smashing success. I mean, most of the stories were terrible, but I forced myself to come up with a story idea every day that I then fleshed out. And it was just what I needed.

Stories are Everywhere

This experiment helped me to remove much of the preciousness we tend to associate with story creation. That an idea has to shine from across the room. I followed many a foolish story to the end of my daily word count and typically their end. There were several stories about Nordic trolls, a story about a kid and a ghost, something with rats, a weird Waiting for Godotesque thing, a desert story, and the weirdest, not-me thing I’ve written in years—a story about Taylor Swift’s house and a hurricane (I had just driven by her mansion during a coastal exploration trip), a story about Arctic explorer/survivor, Ada Blackjack, Plum Island experiments, climate change, a Florida sinkhole, a tiny mummy, aging, death, terror creatures, a man who grew lizard scales, religion, priests, mental health, post-apocalyptic tales, and addiction. They were all over the map.

I committed to an idea and saw it through each day. I have never felt more like a writer than I did during that month. So many of us get stuck in the myth that story ideas are sprinkled down from the ether at whim. But last November I found that stories are everywhere. A veil lifted, allowing me to see all these glittering bits of stories ripe for plucking. The more I plucked, the more I found. Some were just a line or two from deep in the middle of something, others an opening line, an image, an ending, a philosophical idea that begged to be explored. A land of plenty.

Don’t get me wrong, writing a story every day wasn’t easy. It’s a totally different kind of hard than writing a novel, but it allowed me to work my story idea muscles every day, which was what I wanted to improve on. During that month, I came to believe that once we start—just start—it comes. It might go all wibbly wobbly if we’re loose on the reigns, but it comes. Story ideas might be everywhere, but it’s a bit of a catch 22—the only way to see them is to entertain them (in my creative experience). The more stories you entertain, the more appear. I imagine they start to think of you as someone they can trust to see them through. “Show yourself to Kim. She’ll let you have a good romp.” If you’re out of practice like I was, then you’ll probably have to write through some pretty awful stories. But that’s okay! Make them short! Have fun in spite of them. Write in a perspective, tone, or voice you normally wouldn’t. Let them go wild and ridiculous. Find something in the story that you love and lean into it. Don’t worry about making it great. Just make it. And for me, that’s the essence of NaNoWriMo. Create.

What I Love About NaNo

NaNoWriMo is an excuse to plunge yourself into writing. It’s a license to be awful. No one, not even you, expects your November work to be your best work. So, in the spirit of that, I love participating in NaNo. It’s a helpful tool for those of us plagued with perfectionism. I think NaNo is an excellent way to develop great habits and probably not the best way to create your finest first draft.

For me, there are three important things NaNoWriMo helps me with:

1. Embracing imperfection to create.

2. Carving out time for my own work.

3. Creating a daily habit.

Writing is such a solitary activity, and I love that during November so many writers come together (in spirit or at actual write-ins) to share the joy (and angsty whining) of writing 50,000 words in a month.

This year, my NaNo goal is a bit more complicated. Last year’s story experiment was wonderful, but by January I stopped enforcing my daily writing habit. My goal this year is to keep a daily writing habit of 250 words after NaNoWriMo is over. I still spend most of my creative energy working on other people’s stories, and that’s okay! I love helping authors prepare their stories for readers! But I crave more creative balance than I achieved last year, so I want to spend a bit of that energy on my own work. 

If you’re doing NaNoWriMo in a few days, I’d love to hear about your plans. If you’re interested in participating in NaNoWriMo, but don’t know where to start, then check out their prep page, which is full of inspiration and solid tips. And come find me there so we can cheer each other on: https://nanowrimo.org/participants/kimberlyschebler.

Don’t forget to have fun!