NaNoWriMo and writing distractions…
November is NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) time, so I was interested to see a wannabe author write to the “Personal Tech” column of the NY Times: “…what free or cheap software would work to temporarily lock me out of Facebook and other time-sapping sites?” The Times’ columnist surrounded the correct answer with a lot of blather (that’s called padding, folks), but that correct answer was spot on: “One free approach is to just unplug your home network router….” Well, yeah! Beyond the absurdity of this interchange and the two split infinitives that would have made these person’s high school English teachers cringe, neither uncommon today, the Times’ columnist skirted two issues associated with the query.
First, let’s kill the myth: A novel cannot be written in a month. We’ll ignore NaNoWriMo’s definition of novel—50 kwords, their minimum, isn’t a novel, irrespective of the fact that The Great Gatsby, about that length, is called one (that length of story could only be called a novel in YA literature, and Fitzgerald’s genre, whatever it is, can’t be called YA). OK, echoing a famous politician’s infamous husband, I suppose it depends on how you define “written.”
I produced some of the manuscripts for my novels in a month. In the days of typewriters, we used to call such manuscripts “first drafts,” but those novels of mine included content editing because one can do cut and paste with almost any modern word processing software. That still doesn’t meet my definition of “written.” A manuscript has to age a bit—you might like Beaujolais, but the equivalent in a novel isn’t particularly good for readers’ palates. Moreover, as you copy edit (or fight with your copy editor, who you pay NOT to respect what you’ve written), you will see other content editing that needs to be done, and your beta-readers will see more (maybe that getaway car changed from red to blue in the middle of a chase?).
In brief: the whole NaNoWriMo concept is a gimmick at best and a way to encourage sloppy writing at worst. But let’s move on to a bigger question: what the Times’ reader was really worrying about is how to handle distractions when writing. Avoiding social media is only part of that. While anyone can publish a book nowadays (but many people shouldn’t, considering all the crap out there—NaNoWriMo contributes to that glut, of course, and Sturgeon’s law definitely applies), finishing a good novel, no matter the time taken, is an accomplishment that requires focus and concentration.
Today it seems that many people don’t want to focus or concentrate…or can’t. We have a plethora of distractions, many of them passive, and they allow us to be passive consumers and not active creators. Writing a novel is being creative. Even reading a novel can be creative because any author worth her or his salt won’t spell out all the details about a story in order to allow the reader to participate in the creative process.
Watching Game of Thrones, playing Grand Theft Auto or some other computer game, or watching the World Series while throwing down brewskis and gorging on pizza represent preferred pastimes for millions who haven’t touched a book since high school. Some of those distractions are a lot more fun for many people who slave on day-jobs (they tend to follow Sturgeon’s law too). No wonder wannabe authors are distracted.
Long ago my students would tell me that they couldn’t study alone—they needed friends, large quantities of food and drink, and music with wall-shaking bass. I imagine today’s kids expand on that, some even claiming they can multitask. What a pile of cow manure! Learning and creating requires focus and concentration. Distractions can only harm the latter and drastically inhibit the former. Or, let’s put it another way: if you want to write a novel that will ever have a chance in today’s competitive marketplace, you’d damn well better do what’s necessary to focus and concentrate.
My best writing (I happen to think it’s all pretty good, but I’m biased!) is often defined by “getting in the zone.” I might have some soft classical music on and a mug of cold coffee sitting near the keyboard (I haven’t spilled it on a keyboard yet), but my best writing results occur when I get into some kind of trance where the words flow, the characters almost tell their own stories, and I finish that session by saying, “Geez, that turned out great!” (The “geez” is probably a stronger expletive, of course, depending on how much I spiked the coffee with Irish whiskey.) While in that trance, I ignore all distractions (they often include responding to Win10 admonishments, the result of beta-testing Microsoft software; knocks on the door by Jehovah’s Witnesses or Mormons; calls offering me something real special if I just tell them all my ID info, including bank account numbers; emails from Nigerian princesses offering to share some kind of treasure trove; and so forth).
What I just described might be better called “streak writing.” NaNoWriMo requires you to maintain a streak writing for a month—maybe not impossible but highly unlikely. The better plan is to write intensely for a while and connect all those intense sessions in a way that make sense. That combines epiphanies and reasoned organization. A short story might be doable in one mad dash—novels are not, being more like a marathon. Some story elements can be missing in a short story—complex characterization, for example—but novels need to have a smattering of most of them. Plot, interwoven themes, good characterization, well-written dialogue, settings, world-building (for sci-fi) or narrative background and flashbacks—a good novel will treat its readers to a wee bit of all of them, but it takes hard work to make it all mesh together. You can write a short story and give in to your distractions as a reward. That’s more difficult to do for novel writing.
Do I ignore social media? Nope. After one of those mind-blowing streak sessions, I need to surface for air. Perusal of a thread on Goodreads or someone’s blog, answering and sending emails, reading newsletters, and so forth represent the equivalent of the runner at the end of the race, huffing and puffing and walking around to cool down. Sinking into my old recliner and reading someone else’s book at night after a full day of writing can offer a good respite too, especially if accompanied by a few fingers of Irish whiskey. Maybe the marathon analogy is incorrect too—novel writing isn’t a plodding marathon but a bunch of short dashes stitched together to reach the finish line. It’s the stitching that’s negatively affected by the distractions. They must be minimized by choosing the most effective for your R&R, those great gulps of air after each dash.
That’s the secret to writing with focus and concentration. Don’t ignore the distractions. Be selective. I watched Game 7 of the World Series, for example, but only bits and pieces of games 1-6. Baseball is one of the most boring spectator sports, but I loved to play it (I played catcher because I was the only kid on the team who wouldn’t blink when the batter swung and could make the long throw to second, requisites for the position) and know the ins and outs of the game well enough to say that Game 7 will go down as one of the best. I don’t generally watch TV, though—not only is it generally boring, most of it is schlock. From my movie reviews, you know I go to movies—but I’m selective about what I’ll see there too (most of them are also schlock). Dinner and movies still work for me, but they work because I’m spending time with my beautiful wife—many times Sturgeon’s law works for the food and entertainment too, so it’s my wife who makes the outing worthwhile.
Other writers not only have these and other distractions, they lack time to write. Giving in to distractions exacerbates that time issue too, of course. Finding time to write is probably easier than avoiding distractions, though. The distractions are often addictive; it’s easier to give in to the addiction. Achieving focus and concentration isn’t easy these days, no matter the pursuit. While writing is great fun, achieving focus and concentration is hard work. Dylan won his Nobel by having many years of great fun, but that fun was accompanied by a lot of focus and concentration—getting the lyrics just right, making the musical arrangements, and performing. Writing a novel is performing, but it requires focus and concentration—it’s fun…and hard work.
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“Writing Fiction,” a PDF free for the asking, treats these and many other writing issues. See the entire list of free PDFs on the “Free Stuff & Contests” webpage. Query me via the contact page.
In libris libertas!
