50,000 Words Does Not Make a Novel

yes, this is last year's banner

I've participated in NaNoWriMo for the past five years. The first two I "won," meaning I completed the task of writing a 50,000 word novel in the month of November, and the last three I gave up halfway through.

I'm not proud of those first two. They're languishing in a drawer somewhere, never edited. Never even touched. You know why? They're not novels. They're 50,000 words of uneditable garbage.

I'm not fishing for complements or encouraging words to boost my delicate writerly self-esteem; it is what it is -- junk. I'm not so delusional that I can't admit that what I didn't win or really accomplish anything except the required word count. And I know that's not what NaNoWriMo is supposed to be about: writing capital "L" literature: it's about silencing that inner editor. You know, the one that tells you you're no good, what the hell are you doing, you should never put pen to paper even when it's just to writing a shopping list. That's the true essence of NaNo, but sometimes that inner editor has a point. Maybe not about never putting pen to paper, but maybe you should listen when she tells you what you're writing is crap. 50,000 words of crap.

If anything, starting this blog has taught me to respect my inner editor, in more ways that one. Although it's my blog, I'm not so naive that I think what I'm saying is some sort of universal truth, and I try to check my privilege at the door. Do I always succeed? I cringe at some of those early posts, but I'll take that risk.

I have no idea if I'm doing NaNoWriMo this year. (I have about three weeks to decide), but if I do, I'm going to use the time to really write and not slap down words just to make quota. If I win, nice. If I don't, I'll still win because I've written something I'm proud of.