NaNoLand* is replete with terminology that’s collected over the years.
Things like: “plot bunnies,” which are quickly breeding ideas that would be great for some other story, just not the one you’re working on; “Mr. Ian Woon,” an anagram of NaNoWriMo and homage character appearing in countless nano novels; and the “Traveling Shovel of Death,” a convenient method of dispatch that has cropped up in many a nano effort.
My favorite nano term is “pantsing it,” which refers — as you have no doubt already surmised because you are smart and sexy and read really fast — to starting the month with nothing more than a vague idea for a book. No notes, character sketches, research, or outline. Just the idea.
And then flying by the seat of your pants through 50,000 words.
Why not plan in advance?
I usually do. In fact, I’ve relentlessly pre-planned every failed novel lying comatose in my computer.
(Yes, there are many. And, no, it’s not easy to admit that. For more about my novel-writing angst, please refer to the opening OW post. Moving on now.)
Over the years, I’ve fashioned many a story outline. Not to mention plot map, script treatment, character bio, location description, etc. I’ve used up entire legal pads and packs of index cards. Struggled with Word’s outlining function. And been seduced (with no happy ending) by more than one application whispering sweet nothings about plot points, color coding and easy story development into my eager ears.
All this hurly-burly has generally caused one of two — or both of two — things to happen:
- All the creative juice gets squeezed right out of a project. It seems that the more energy I put into writing about a story, the less interest I have in actually writing the story itself.
- I get this weird, creepy feeling there’s a tall stack of very dense and heavy must-dos building up behind me, and sooner or later that stack is going to fall over and crush me. “Too much! Too much!” my feeble brain shrieks.
Where do pressure, boredom, stress and unreasoning panic lead? Project burnout. Writer’s block. Comatose novels.
Why I went pantless — er, pantsed it — for NaNo.
My primary goal was to get out of my comfort zone. Way, way out, if possible. If it that meant racing as far as I could out the tiniest, narrowest spit of land spinning as far as out into that sea of fiction as anyone has ever gone, well, damnit, that was my destination.
It was also a pragmatic choice. I was jumping into NaNoWriMo at the last minute and had exactly one novel idea that I hadn’t already beaten senseless with the Traveling Story-Planner of Death. So that’s the one I decided to write.
And how did it all work out, this flying by the seat of my pants?
Tell you later.
This post is already too long. (Probably comes of not planning in advance.)
Are you into planning or pantsing it — or a balanced mix of the two? I’d love to hear how you approach a project in its early stages.
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dh
* NaNoLand is the virtual wonderland inhabited by the hundreds of thousands of people worldwide who participate in National Novel Writing Month during November. This event has writers vowing to draft 50,000 words of a novel in just 30 days. Most who sign up never get started. Many who do start fall short of their goal (but are still awesome and certain to reach it next year). Those who make our 50K in time are called Winners. What do we win? Glory, reknown and bragging rights. At least until next November.
