Why I’m Not Doing NaNoWriMo After All

Me deleting my “NaNoWriMo” event in my iPhone calendar

Earlier this year, in June or July, my writing partner Jordan Bianchi and I made the joint decision to pause work on our fiction podcast, which we had been developing together for the past four years. We both realized that, while we were still making slow progress on the script and outline for the podcast, our hearts weren’t fully in it anymore: we needed a break. We wanted to come back to this project when we were refreshed, energized, and ready to finally bring this fantastically wild and complex fantasy story to life for all to hear. With no daily page goals to make, no weekly calls to show up for, and no research rabbit holes to dive down, I found myself with a lot of newly freed up time to work on my novel.

I was always trying to work on my novel in the background of the podcast, but it hadn’t received my full attention in many years. Anyone who knows me well knows I’m writing a book. Occasionally, they inquire about its status. I have been writing it, on and off, since I had the original idea back in 2011. I so badly want to finish this book, once and for all, and I’d be lying if I said wanting to be able to tell people I finished writing my book!!! isn’t one of the main reasons—among all the other more important ones like a goal reached, a dream achieved; not to mention a finished manuscript to finally shop around. Soon after pausing the podcast, it occurred to me: I should do NaNoWriMo.

NaNoWriMo, or National Novel Writing Month, is a long-running writing challenge which encourages participants to write an entire new novel of at least 50,000 words in the month of November. You sign on to join the challenge, write at least 1,667 words per day, and at the end of the month—BAM, you have a finished novel. I already had about 50,000 words of my novel written; 50,000 more should finish it once and for all.

As a child of the internet who free-ranged the writers’ forums on Neopets, sought early feedback in the creative writing communities of Livejournal, and was thoroughly addicted to Tumblr in its heyday, I don’t remember when I first heard of NaNoWriMo. According to its Wikipedia page, NaNoWriMo started in 1999. I imagine I learned of it sometime around 2005, when it was officially registered as a nonprofit organization. Tales of doing NaNoWriMo, failing NaNoWriMo, or—gasp—succeeding at NaNoWriMo proliferated the online writing communities I was part of. It was a distant dream, as distant as the dream of writing another novel at all. (I’ve finished one novel, but that was when I was in grade school—fourth grade, to be exact. It was called “Wolf Warrior.” You can see a clip of me holding it up in all its purple-bindered glory on Jordan’s podcast, Aurora Airwaves, below, in the video thumbnail.) I’ve started many novels since but haven’t finished a second.  

I was determined to have another finished novel, so in July of this year, I decided this would be the year: Finally, I would do NaNoWriMo. But it’s November 1, and, if you couldn’t tell by the title of this post, I’m not writing 50,000 words to finish my novel this month. Why? Well, mainly because I already started writing my novel again. In August.

In preparation for NaNoWriMo, I finished my writing outline in July. And once it was done, once I knew exactly where the story was going and what I had already written and still needed to write, it occurred to me: I can… just start writing. So I did. I fought the fear of getting started again, of not being able to write, or not knowing what to write, or what I was writing not being good enough, and I started writing on August 6, 2024. I figured: I’ll just get a jumpstart. I’ll write as much as I can, then finish it all out in a fabulous blaze of white-knuckled NaNoWriMo glory.

Mirror selfie after writing my 500 words for the night

Here is how writing has been going since August 6, 2024: On weeknights, and only on weeknights, if I have time and if I feel up to it, I write 500 more words of my novel before I go to bed. Sometimes it ends up being more than 500; it’s hardly ever less. It takes a half hour to an hour. I always feel better after I’ve done it, just like anything else good for me, like yoga, or skincare, or journaling. I write at least one night a week, often two, hardly ever more than three—not unless my week is going exceptionally well. I don’t hold myself to anything more than that: On weeknights, when I have time, I write 500 more words.  

In this way, I’ve written more than 13,000 new words in two and a half months. Of course, at the pace I’m going, I’ll have far fewer words at the end of November than the hypothetical 50,000 I would have had if I did NaNoWriMo, but what I have realized is that this, this slow pace of writing, of setting small goals and meeting them consistently, is working for me. For me, when it comes to writing, and any other positive habits I’m trying to build, sustainability comes down to the difference between two “D” words: discipline vs. dedication.

NaNoWriMo is discipline. Discipline is force, a goal seen through tunnel vision, pressure always applied regardless of what else of importance may be crushed aside in the process. Discipline is inflexible: “I will write this many words a day, every day, at this time.” Discipline and perfectionism pair well. “I will write this many words a day, every day, at this time, and never skip a day, and if I do skip a day—well, then I’ve failed, and I have to start all over again and try harder this time.”

What would change in the month of November to suddenly open up the time and inject me with the energy to not only triple my daily word count (500 to 1,667) but also write that tripled daily word count every day, even on weekends, for an entire month? Nothing. I would still have my full-time job, my house and pets to care for, my chores and self-care and friendships to maintain, my relationship to nurture, my mental and physical health to mind. I wasn’t going to take a sabbatical or go on a writing retreat for the entire month of November. I was expecting myself to, on top of everything else I already do that I struggle to manage on a day-to-day basis, just grind out 50,000 words in 30 days. Perhaps there are some writers that can do that, but not me.

Back when I set the goal to participate in NaNoWriMo this year, I told myself I needed a hard deadline complete this project—that, like back in college, I needed the pressure of imminent failure to force my fingers to the keys and perform the writing I knew I needed to do. I pulled some incredible feats of last-minute writing back then, but I’m not in college anymore. I’m not the person I was in college anymore. I no longer grit my teeth and get it done, regardless of how it makes me feel. I know now that taking care of myself, being kind to myself, is nurturing myself to create my art consistently. I am my art: to work on myself is to work on my art, and to look out for my best interests is looking out for the best interests of my art.

My page and word count since August 6, 2024

“Trying harder” or “being more disciplined,” has never gotten me as far, for as long, as what I’m doing now. What I’m doing now is sustainable. It may seem small—often I worry it’s too small, too slow, taking too long—but it’s working. I’m writing. Over time, 500 words a day adds up: it’s already added up to more than 13,000. Dedication means, regardless of how much effort you put in from one day to the next, regardless of everything else you’re juggling in life, you’ll always keep coming back. Dedication is cultivation; watering a seed, every day, and watching it grow and grow and grow. Dedication and patience pair well. Dedication is flexible, meaningful: it is a promise to yourself you know you’ll keep. Because you are dedicated. (I am dedicated.)  

So, no, I won’t be doing NaNoWriMo this year. I probably won’t have my novel finished for some time yet, but I will keep chipping away at it, week after week, month after month, and I will keep making progress. This time, I know I will. I’ve found my way. My way is not the NaNoWriMo way. My way doesn’t have to be your way, but your way also doesn’t have to be the NaNoWriMo way. Your way can be any way that works for you. As long as you’re writing, it's working.  

P.S. If you want to know what my book sounds like: