Saturday, December 1: NaNoWriMo (Nat’s Novel Writing Month)

So I’m kicking off the last month of the year with my first novel attempt. Last month was official National Novel Writing Month (visit the official website at www.nanowrimo.org), but relocation issues prevented me from jumping on that bandwagon, so I’m launching Nat’s Novel Writing Month instead (and look at that, it’s still, huzzah, conveniently abbreviated to NaNoWriMo). The goal: 50 000 words in 31 days. I’ve got characters, I’ve got setting. A plot is bound to happen, right? If not, well, plot shmot. I mean really, look at Tom Robbins. Everyone loves his books, but can you remember what any of them were actually about?

I’ve told my colleagues at the dive centre of my plan, but it hasn’t generated any of the well-wishing slaps on the back or even raised eyebrows you’d expect when someone announces their first expedition up the literary world’s Everest. It hasn’t really generated any sort of response at all. In fact, people usually go right as if I hadn’t said anything at all. It’s kind of spooky. It makes me want to punch them in the shoulder and shout at them. “Hey, dammit! Did you hear me? I said I was going to write a book! Write, I said. Cause maybe, you know, maybe you thought I said read. But I’m going to write. A novel. I’m going to be a Novelist. Did you catch that?

Maybe they’re ignoring me cause they already know, even after having known me less than a month, that this is just another project I’ll start and never finish. Which, if it’s true, is really depressing that people can figure that out about me so quickly. But my biggest fear about this whole hare-brained scheme truly is the follow-through. Anyone can start a novel. But after the first week, when the exposition and character development have been fleshed-out but my characters still haven’t found anything more interesting than hanging out in coffee shops and bars to fill their non-working hours, will I have the wherewithal to keep writing every day? Will I be able to resist the sweet temptation of creativity naps, or even the slightly less tempting but equally effective procrastination measures of dishwashing, closet organizing, blogging, and let’s not even talk about the distractions waiting outside my four walls…. Will I be able to cast off a lifetime’s worth of procrastination and force myself to sit in front of my computer for the time it takes to hack out a first draft of a novel in 1600-word increments every day for an entire month?

No. Let’s face it, without someone locking me in a room for two hours a night with nothing but a hot drink and my computer, it just ain’t gonna happen. So here’s my plan: There are three guys living in the flat downstairs. Two of them are big drinkers. Their combined bar bill at the hotel probably exceeds my monthly salary. Even with a good-paying job, I’m way too cheap to willingly cover that sort of indiscretionary spending. On a diving instructor salary, it would be a fiscal disaster. Which is exactly why tomorrow I’m going to make the boys downstairs an offer they can’t refuse: if I fail to produce a complete story arc in 50 000 words or more by midnight on December 31, December’s bar tab is on me. Gulp.