A couple years ago, I participated in the much-touted and much-maligned National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo). This annual event happens in November and is designed to inspire writers (and regular people) who struggle with procrastination, fear, distraction and time management in their quests to craft the next great American novel. I was a “winner” my first time out, meaning I completed the NaNoWriMo quest of cranking out 50,000 words in one month. Go me! 

NaNoWriMo is meant to create an inspirational and motivating atmosphere and organizes online and in-person gatherings of participants. These “Write-Ins” aim to help with accountability and community in a field peppered with famous examples of literary misanthropes and agoraphobic authors who avoid interaction with the outside world at all costs. My NaNoWriMo experience was rather solitary: I didn’t join an online group or attend a “Write-In.” I did, however, go 72 hours without leaving my midtown NYC apartment or washing my face. But I’m still a winner!

Aren’t I?

#headdesk

Well, I technically “won” this one-sided contest: a challenge in which one squares off not with others but with oneself, facing down the demons of writers’ block, internal nay-saying, and distractions like social media and daily life. I churned out 50,000 words. Hell, I churned out 80,000! But I didn’t finish my manuscript. I won the battle, but not the war. All that gnashing of teeth to reach the all-important milestone of 50,000 words and my NaNoWriMo victory was potentially for naught, as I now have an 80,000-word manuscript that lacks a cohesive ending and needs a lot of work. I’m almost more frustrated than I was when the story was but a literary fetus kicking at the walls of my skull and yearning to be birthed. Perhaps it should have gestated a little more fully? I’m not sure.

As a copy and content writer, the struggle is often the exact opposite: fitting the piece into a hard word count maximum. Getting enough words out isn’t the problem; it’s knowing what to take out to make it crisp, concise, and cohesive. I happen to think one of the qualities of great art – be it visual, literary, musical, theatrical – is that the artist has reduced the work to its most essential state. Nothing can be added or taken away. It’s reached a perfect creative stasis. Harmony. Balance.

The trouble with NaNoWriMo is that it’s asking participants to churn and churn – the “just keep swimming” school of literary advice. I’m not sure that’s the best policy. Is more more? I’m not certain.

NaNoWriMo is an unquestionably valuable tool for many writers – professional and amateur alike. Sara Gruen’s Water for Elephants is a well-known example of a NaNoWriMo project turned literary hit, and there are countless fellow “winners” who credit the process with finally getting them out of potential writing and into the actual process. I wholeheartedly support anyone taking on the challenge, as it’s a worthy goal. What I question is whether this approach is ideal for all, or if there might be more worthwhile alternative routes to NaNoWriMo mastery. Perhaps a challenge that focused on daily time logged goals rather than a hard word count minimum might be a good start.

Regardless, what I need now is a NaNoWriMo-esque challenge to help me bring the multiple storylines together and a good editor to pare this beast down. Who’s up for the challenge?

Kathryn Cunningham is a professional writer and social media maven. Dividing her time between her home in midtown Manhattan and many homes on the road, she enjoys supporting the arts in small communities and advocating for rescue dogs.