101 Reasons has been running for just over a month now, and in that time I’ve not managed to stop a single bad writer. Instead, almost a billion perfectly innocent words have been combined into many tens of millions of bad sentences, on what would be millions of pages, were any of it fit to print. And they haven’t finished counting yet.
The NaNo writers I’ve interviewed were rather gleeful about contributing to this global shame. So, what have we learned from them?
- Most of the interviewees agreed that their NaNo output is crap. Several were just using the experience as a form of logorrheic exercise, but most were prepared to sift through the crap later, looking for fibre and corn.
- Many also explained how NaNo was just a tool, a framework for focusing on writing - while posting wordcount updates on their blogs, and accepting congratulations when they got their “Winner!” web icon.
- Almost all expressed the opinion that NaNo brought “accountability”; that taking the challenge publicly provided motivation, and the threat of humiliation if you failed. However, the experiences of several interviewees proves that this just doesn’t happen.
- Several agreed that “some people shouldn’t write”, without explaining why they weren’t in that category.
- NaNo hasn’t yet made enough of a splash in the publishing industry to become truly reviled.
Despite protestations of accountability and focus, it’s clear that NaNo’s primary function is to make participants excited about writing. It brings a sense of community to what is otherwise a solitary pursuit, and gives participants a platform to discuss their progress, and find validation in the shared goal.
Would that this actually led to better novels.
I always get the impression that when a writer says, “Some people shouldn’t write,” what they actually mean is, “Other people shouldn’t write so I will have less competition when I submit my Magnum Opus for publication.”
I’m still waiting for Sean to realize that, based on 101 Reasons, he’s one of the writers he’s reviling, and then disappearing in a puff of logic.
You could be waiting a long time for that logic bomb to crack the obsidian casing around my ego.
I offer you this. NaNoWriMo DOES have one valuable function. It gets the true wannabes their always-dreamed-of novels written. Now, this may seem at first glance to be counter-productive, but I postulate that in the long run, this actually discourages them from writing, for several reasons:
1) Writing on a deadline sucks, it’s hard, and the stricter your deadline, the crappier the writing is.
2) When they go back and READ their crap, they realize just how awful it is, and get discouraged that they will ever be able to be published.
3) If, against all the odds, they DO actually submit something for publication, they will realize by the mountain-sized pile of rejection slips (form, no less) that no one understands them, and they are better off going to some other, more important company that understands them. Which usually means the scammers who are waiting for these broken souls with open arms.
4) When they get scammed, they lose all hope, and shoot their writing dream in the heart. And go have 2.5 kids, a dog, and a job in a cubicle.
5) It gets them addicted to the crutch that is NaNo– if they have to have the cheering crowds and fellow writers slogging through, they will never be able to actually write usefully. Because newsflash: writing never has cheering crowds urging you to finish. Even in NaNo. Those are mostly tens of thousands of competitors. It’s all an illusion, but in fact, you DO suck. And in order to write successfully at all, you have to write more than 30 days a year.
Sure, it encourages them to write now, but it also serves a useful function in the world of wannabes.
Oh, and lest you think NaNoWriMo is nothing but success stories, then please, by all means amuse yourself with the NaNoWriMo Ate my Soul forum (formerly I hate myself and want to die).
Heather, I wish I could agree with you that rereading some of that tripe might make wannabe writers reconsider their chosen careers, but I know better. Speaking from experience both as a former writer and as a former editor, I can attest that the love affair that talentless writers have to their work, no matter how much you may try to convince them to the contrary, is best described as “being addicted to the smell of your own farts”. Rather than accept that their work isn’t worth being used as litter box liner, they’ll spend all of their time trying to find conspiracies that prevent their work from being accepted. If they get published, then they get even worse, because then they’ll surround themselves with sycophants who tell them that their shit smells like lilac.
Support groups for writers. Now it’s true–all losers have a support group to join.
This is not to say all people who need support are losers. Far from it! It’s just that (as my social worker friend told me) for some reason, it’s those who adore and wallow in their troubles who are magnetically drawn to support groups. Thus all groups devolve into either one-upsmanship or Whining Endlessly with Encouragement.
I see NaNoWriMo as identical to online support groups. Just what writers and would-be writers needed: another reason to feel special.