No Plot? No Problem!: A Low-Stress, High-Velocity Guide to Writing a Novel in 30 Days (16 page)

Also, don’t feel constrained to drawing just one kind of map. For dramas that unfold mostly indoors, you may want to create a floor-by-floor schematic drawing of the important homes, shops, or restaurants, rather than mapping your book on a street-by-street level. Topographic maps may be helpful if you’re writing a story that relies on encampments or precipitous shifts in altitude. Finally, make sure to color everything in as vividly as possible. Since this exercise is a great way to procrastinate from writing your book, take as long as you like perfecting the algae slick on the town pond with a realistic shade of green.

When you’re done, keep the map close at hand as an updateable inspiration-generator and a handy reminder of where things are in your book.

THE PERSON & THING GAME

For those looking to spice up their writing with some random (and word-count bolstering) creativity, this exercise is a time-tested winner.

To play it, you’ll need a public space and an unread newspaper. You’ll also need a pen and your notebook. This works best as a two-player game, but it can also be fun as a solo challenge. Here’s how the game works: Sit in a public space with plenty of foot traffic. Close your eyes, and count to fifteen. When you open your eyes, the first person you see is your Person. Write down everything about them you can before they get away—their clothes, their carriage, their race, their hairstyle, what they’re holding; anything and everything.

Next, take your newspaper, and close your eyes again. Open your newspaper to a random page and, keeping your eyes closed, run your finger over the page, stopping after a couple of seconds. The article, advertisement, or photo you’re pointing to has a deep connection to the Person you just collected. What’s the connection? You have to figure it out, and you have to work that person and their issue convincingly into the next chapter of your novel.

The more people you collect and successfully incorporate into each chapter, the more points you get in the game. If you’re playing with someone else, you alternate collecting people and their issues; each person harvests his or her own random characters and looks up their backstories in the newspaper. Then both of you set off to write, coming back together at the end of the noveling period to read each other the passages featuring your random cameos.

Extended game: You can add an atlas and play the Person, Place & Thing Game. With eyes closed, randomly flip open to a page to add a country or state of origin for your collected person. WEEK THREE, DAY 21

CLEARING SKIES, WARMER WEATHER, AND A JETPACK ON YOUR BACK

[Today's Goal: Reach 35,007 words]

-------------------WHAT DO I DO IF I HIT 50,000 WORDS EARLY?

Every year, about 2 percent of National Novel Writing Month participants have that rare combination of fleet-fingered typing skills and well-oiled imaginations that allow them to hit 50,000 words after a couple of weeks. If you find yourself among this golden group and cross the 50,000-word threshold in Week Three, then write like the wind until you reach the end of the story. If you’ve typed “The End”

and still have a couple of days (and some energy) remaining, dive back into the middle sections of your book and begin fleshing out and realigning text to fit with whatever changes in story direction you’ve enacted over the course of the novel. In other words, just keep going, superstar!

-------------------USING YOUR REFERENCE NOVEL FOR QUICK-AND-EASY PLOT VOODOO

Sometimes plot decisions require a helping hand. In these cases, I’ve found my reference novel (one of the essential writerly tools described in chapter three) doubles as an invaluable fortune-telling device to help guide the masterpiece-in-progress. It works like this:

You: (picking up the reference novel) Oh, Great Reference Novel! I have a question!

Book: (... )

You: My main character has the personality of a wood chip. Should I kill her off now, and re-center the story on the time-traveling family of chipmunks living under her front porch?

You: (flipping through the pages of the book, stopping on a random page, and reading the first complete sentence on the page)

Book: The accordion proved to be Angeline’s favorite instrument, much to her parents’ dismay. You: Thank you, great book. She will die at noon.

-------------------THOUGHTS FROM THE TRENCHES: NANOWRIMO WINNERS ON THE MIDDLE OF THE

JOURNEY

“The middle bit is both good and bad, depending on how much pre-planning you’ve done. If you’ve used up all your planned events, you’re screwed as you try to find new things for the characters to do. If you’ve never had a plan for them at all, you’re screwed as you’ve got to start thinking about why they’re actually there and what they’ve got to pull off by the end.”

—Andrew Johnson, 29, three-time NaNoWriMo winner from Christchurch, New Zealand

“It’s tough. You’re either in a groove, you’re procrastinating, or you’re feeling really overwhelmed. Usually a bit of all three. By Week Three, panic starts to set in as you scramble to catch up if you’re behind. But you’ve got a solid count and if it’s your first time, this is probably more than you’ve ever written before in your life on one story. It’s a terrific ego boost.”

—Stacy Katz, 30, one-time NaNoWriMo winner from Houston

“The hardest thing to deal with mid-month is the disbelief of friends. ‘Are you still writing that? You were serious? Come on, we’ll just go have a quick pint... ’ And the growing desire to succumb to every diversion known to man. Even doing dishes. Even staying late at the office to do actual work. Anything to put off having to face those thousands of unwritten words.”

—Trena Taylor, 34, two-time NaNoWriMo winner from London

CHAPTER 8

WEEK FOUR, DAY 22

CHAMPAGNE AND THE ROAR OF THE CROWD

[Today's Goal: Reach 36,674 words]

Dear Writer,

This is where it all comes together. Week Four. The sink or swim, do or die, zero hour. Or hours. You have 168 of them left. Assuming you sleep eight hours a night, and are otherwise occupied twelve hours per day, that’s 16 hours—or 1,680 plump, succulent word-filled writing minutes—ahead of you. But before we delve too deeply into the math of your imminent triumph, I need you to do me a favor. I’d like you to put this book down, put on your shoes, grab your keys, and go to the grocery store. Seriously.

Go now.

Okay, go later. Whenever it’s convenient. But make sure, when you’re at the store, to pick up two bottles of champagne. If you are underage, you can pick up a champagne substitute, such as beer. Then bring the two bottles home and hide both away at the back of the fridge. We’ll be needing them later.

Now, back to life in your novel.

It’s Week Four. You’re so close to the end of the month you can taste it. And whether you’re at 14,000

or 40,000 words, there’s probably a part of you that’s asking: Haven’t I written enough already? Do I really need to go any further? Why don’t I just bow out now, and wrap up the manuscript in a couple of months, when I’m less tired and have a better supply of clean underwear?

These are all good questions.

And here’s the answer: The next seven days will pass in the blink of an eye. To be replaced by another seven. And another seven after that.

Before you know it, the weeks will become months, which will fast become years. In no time, you’ll be eighty-five years old and sitting on a porch somewhere, looking back on your life, and reminiscing about all the many things you’ve accomplished.

And when you get to that point, I promise you this: Those activities and errands that seem so essential right now—composing the company’s annual report, passing that English exam, arranging for competent child care—all of these things that seem so crucial will not be recalled with pride or fondness.

In fact, you won’t remember a single one of them.

Decades from now, however, you will remember that ineffable moment when the word counter ran it’s computery calculation over your book and announced you had reached the 50,000-word end-point. You’ll smilingly recall that time you were stupid enough to sign up for the challenge of a lifetime, and mighty enough to see it through. You will remember that month, that hectic, harried month, when you made a promise to yourself, when you set off on an impossible quixotic quest, and nailed it. Do you see where I’m going with this?

You are on the verge of pulling off something incredible here. You have many more words to write and, given the short time remaining, success may involve hard work. But over these past three weeks you’ve honed all the skills you need to pull this off—to glide over that finish line. You can do this. Just make the time to write, however much time it takes. Move forward, relentless, determined, confident.

And as you cross these last few miles, savor them. For the pain is almost over, and the celebrations are about to begin.

WEEK FOUR, DAY 23

CHAMPAGNE AND THE ROAR OF THE CROWD (CONT'D)

[Today's Goal: Reach 38,341 words]

WEEK FOUR ISSUES

ARRIVING AT 35,000 WORDS

The only thing remotely close to the emotional elation of hitting 50,000 words is reaching 35,000

words. Everything eases up at 35,000. This is the penultimate lap; the on-ramp to the 40s; the place where the chunk of work separating you from “The End” can be whittled down to nothing in a matter of days. Thirty-five thousand words is where you get your third wind, and the writing from here on out will remind you of those breezy, blissful days of Week One.

HOLIDAY HORROR STORIES: SURVIVING FAMILY VACATIONS WITH YOUR WORD

COUNT INTACT

If you are writing your book during November or, God help you, December, you’ll have the wildcard of the holidays thrown into your final writing sessions. Though these often mean time off work or school, they also bring a host of family obligations. Surviving Thanksgiving or Christmas with your word count intact takes some finessing, especially if it involves long drives and airport layovers. If you are going to be ending your month with your family, the most important step is to let them know ahead of time that you’ll be bringing a time-sucking project home with you. Explaining to your relatives that you’ll be physically present for the holidays but not entirely mentally there can be accomplished tactfully by (re)using some of the “I’m writing a novel” talking points from chapter two. Another time-tested holiday tip for endgame novelists is to rent a motel room instead of staying at a relative’s house. This way, you’ll always have a quiet, controlled writing retreat when you need it. If a motel is out of the question, or if you are hosting the holidays at your place, figure out in advance what room (or, more likely, what spidery corner of the basement) might be designated a semi-private

“writing area.”

Three-time winner Erin Allday and her sister, Liana, found an extra bedroom served as a usable-ifimperfect writing station when their family came for a Thanksgiving visit one year.

“For four days, my parents and grandmother were staying with us in our two-bedroom apartment,” Erin remembers. “My sister and I shared a bed and a computer for those four days. We regularly fought over who got to lock herself in the bedroom and write while the other one cooked and entertained.

“My parents, meanwhile, were not at all understanding about the importance of finishing our novels. We kept trying to explain why we had to retreat to the bedroom to write, but I think they assumed we were just trying to get away from all of the family.”

If you know that working on your novel over the holiday is going to cause a family uprising, the best approach may be to lie. Explain that you are doing a family history project that requires you to shut yourself away from the family for most of the holiday so you can better recollect some of the memorable things grandma has said at the dinner table over the years.

CROSSING THE FINISH LINE

Yep. It’s going to happen this week. I tend to celebrate crossing over with a meditative ceremony where I print the book out and neatly stack its pages on the floor. When everything has been properly laid out, I take a few steps back from the work, close my eyes, and offer up my thanks to the writing powers for another bountiful harvest. At which point, I get a running start and dive headlong into my wordpile, rolling around and snorting like a pig.

And then I fall asleep for three days.

How you celebrate is up to you. But know you can’t possibly overdo the whooping, hollering, and carrying on. No matter what your neighbors might say.

WEEK FOUR, DAY 24

CHAMPAGNE AND THE ROAR OF THE CROWD (CONT'D)

[Today's Goal: Reach 40,008 words]

WEEK FOUR TIPS

LOVE YOUR BODY

After three weeks of high-intensity typing, even the most robust bodies are feeling some pain. From your wrists to your hands to your back and neck, the human body wasn’t made to do the kind of gloriously sustained creative work that you’ve spent the last three weeks putting it through. Throughout this final week, you should pay special attention to your body’s needs, and take breaks every fifteen minutes to stretch the muscles in your shoulders and arms. During Week Four, your eyes will also take on the feel of desiccated cashews. Don’t rub them: What they need is for you to stop staring so intently at your monitor for hours on end. Make a point of looking back and forth, from the far distance to the near distance every five minutes or so. Also, eyedrops. Keep buckets of medicated solution on hand to douse your eyeballs at the first sign of dryness.

TROLL YOUR NOVEL NOTES FILE FOR FORGOTTEN IDEAS

In the manic pace of the last week, you may completely forget that genius plot turn you came up with in the previous weeks. As Week Four begins, look through both your noveling notebook and your computer novel notes file to make sure you get in all the good stuff before the curtain closes on the month.

CROSS EARLY AND KEEP WRITING