Oh, yes! Did the date sneak up on you? Never fear, here’s your annual reminder – IT’S NANOWRIMO!
If you are one of the five people who don’t know what NaNoWriMo is – this is National Novel Writing Month. The goal is to write 50,000 words in 30 days – that’s about 1600 – 1700 words per day on average. The goal is NOT to necessarily finish a novel (though if you do that, great!). The goal is simply to get people writing. Here’s the website: https://www.nanowrimo.org/
When you go to the website, you can set up a profile, find other NaNo writers in your area for ‘write-ins’ (where you meet up at a library or coffee shop for a few hours to write) – or, if you don’t live near a group, you can even do virtual write-ins. You can track your progress, chat with other writers . . . for some, it’s not so much a way to get the words down on paper as a chance to be with a community of writers.
I try to participate every year, because . . . why not? It’s a challenge. I do wish it was some other month – May or June, when I’m less busy – but if I’m supposed to be writing anyway, then I may as well challenge myself to do a little more, right? Besides, it’s dark early in November. I’m not outside doing yard work or going for long walks. I’m stuck inside. I can watch TV, or write. (Or, as it turns out, I can do both at the same time!)
There is no right or wrong way to do NaNo, and I think that’s one of the biggest misconceptions about it – any writing counts! Sure, it’s called National Novel Writing Month, but as I’ve said before, 50,000 words isn’t a novel. If you need to do a total rewrite on an existing novel, go for it! If you need to finish a novel you put down a long time ago, go for it! There are even – gasp! – NaNo Rebels, who write short stories, blog posts, fanfic, and other things.
Usual, I spend this month working on fiction projects – the first 50,000 words of Nicky came pouring out of me during NaNo 2014, after all. Some years its an assemblage of random projects; other years, I concentrate on just one.
But this year, I decided – at the last minute – that I was going to do something different.
This year, I’m focusing on nonfiction.
Obviously, to do this thing properly, I should have started the prep work about three months ago. Because I decided, literally yesterday, to start writing my book about George Kimmel. Nothing ventured, nothing gained, right? Or, maybe more accurately, into everyone’s world a little cray-cray must fall.
I should definitely have started the prep work earlier. I am working with half-assed notes and half-remembered quotes, and all my files are either on my laptop or in my office, but are not in both places. I should have had notes about everyone all ready to go, to start drafting their bios. I should have sketched out what the chapters would look like ahead of time, and started slotting testimonies and depositions into those. I should have gathered up my research into Ark City’s history so I could write an accurate description of it in 1898. You know, basic stuff like that.
Give me a break, though; I’ve never tackled something this big before! The papers I wrote in grad school were often written on the fly; I could rely on my writing talent and research ability to pull them off. (The most famous example of this, which I often share with my students as an example of what not to do, is the term paper I started at 11pm, finished at 5am, and submitted at 8:30am. Yes, I got an A. Let me reiterate: DO NOT DO THIS.). This? This is not that. This is real. And frankly, that’s why I keep pushing it away – because not only do I get completely obsessed with it, to the point where I drive everyone around me batcrap crazy, but I get overwhelmed by the thousands of pages I already have – and the unknown amount of information I still need.
But. I was going to have to do that anyway.
Today I sat down at my favorite coffee shop, opened a blank document in Word, and started typing. I thought I knew how I would start George’s story: it would start with him leaving town on the train. I even had the first line running through my head: On July 31, 1898, George Kimmel waved goodbye to his friends ,and boarded the train for Topeka. They never saw him again.
Instead . . . the first line from my keyboard was: How do people disappear without a trace?
It was an intriguing opening, and I hadn’t expected it at all. So I went with it. I talked about the number of cold cases in America right now, and the number of cases that go unsolved every year (the numbers, according to the US Justice Department, are 250,000 and 6,000, in case you’re curious). I wrote, very generally, about the uses of DNA and the difficulties in using it to solve these cold cases (NONE of which will ever make it into the final draft because it’s totally fluff and filler gleaned from years of watching Forensic Files). And then I asked another question: if it’s this difficult today, to solve a case in which a person appears to have disappeared without a trace, how much more difficult would it have been in 1898?
In truth, what I started out writing was not so much a first chapter as a prologue, my reasons for researching Kimmel, and for ultimately writing this book. But that idea – How do people disappear without a trace? – has intrigued me.
How did Kimmel walk out of the Midland Hotel and into oblivion? How did he disappear, so completely that no trace of him was ever found?
I wrote almost 1800 words today. It’s not good – but then again, that’s not the point. The point of NaNoWriMo is simply to write.
Which, when it comes to this project, is the thing I’ve needed to do all along.
Want to write nonfiction but don’t want to do it via NaNoWriMo? Check this out! https://writenonfictionnow.com/about-write-nonfiction-in-november/wnfinnanonfiwrimo/