I’ve been a bit quieter in this newsletter over the past month. Last month I shared that I would be embarking on my fourth year of National Novel Writing Month (also known as NaNoWriMo or NaNo). NaNo is an international community event and personal challenge to write 50,000 words of a book in the 30 days of November.
This year I’m actually writing a novel (as opposed to a memoir, short stories, or poems). Fiction is not my forté. It’s much easier for me to pull a theme and narrative thread from a real experience. But it’s a fun creative challenge to write something totally new to the world and new to me.
I wrote in this post a few weeks ago about the inspiration for the story I’m writing:
Now, the majority of the way through the month it gets harder. I knew this would be the case from previous experience. I’ve written over 31,000 of the 50,000 goal. Usually in the morning hours before much of the world is awake, sometimes in the afternoon on the couch, and when I was sick last week and couldn’t look at my screen I dictated my words.
It’s a delicate balance to give myself flexibility and rest while maintaining some degree of discipline for a project that really requires it.
But, I maintain, this point in the month is a slog. For most people the middle of the novel is the hardest part to get through. Even for someone like me who outlined the heck out of it before the month began so I would never feel like I was starting from the blank page.
It’s at times like these that I need to return to my permission slip.
In previous years, I wrote a permission slip for myself before the month began. Something I could turn back to when writing got hard and I wanted to give up. This year I have to write it now, when I most need it.1
So here goes:
Rachel,
I give you permission to write. To make time for it every day even if it means you have to say no to plans and other ideas that call to you for these four weeks—recipes, house projects, lawn care. It’s ok to say no, you can’t be good at everything all at once.
I give you permission to write badly. They don’t call it a messy-first-draft for nothing. If I know one thing, it’s going to be pretty awful writing on the first go-round. But remember, you’re digging up the clay this month. Maybe you decide to make something of it in the future, maybe not. But here’s your permission to make it anyway.
I give you permission to fail. It’s hard to begin when you’re petrified by failure, but the truth is that whatever you think failure is, it’s ok. Whether you write 5,000 or 50,000, you’ve strung together more words from thin air than you had before you began. And no matter what happens, it’s a good workout—strengthening muscles you don’t get to in your day-to-day life. So it probably isn’t failure at all, is it?
I give you permission to care about this project even just for one month. It can be tempting not to care about this thing because there are so many others that call for your attention, really important ones that make writing seem frivolous some days or unimportant. But it’s ok to care about this particular thing. There’s something special about finding joy in creativity as an adult, whatever it looks like.
Speaking of which, I give you permission to have fun some days, to be frustrated some days, to be tired some days and do it anyway. It’s all good.
So, what are you waiting for? There’s nothing to lose. Let’s get writing.
Signed,
Past Rachel
While many things pause or stop for me in November, I do have a few things to share that I’ve been loving lately.
Gluten-free pistachio biscotti recipe, which I’ve made two batches of so far
Murder at the End of the World (Hulu), which features my friend Ryan Haddad!
Migrations by Charlotte McConaghy, which I’m lightly picking up to re-read when I can’t motivate myself to write
Don’t Look Up, which I know has been out for a long time but we finally got around to watching
By the way, these aren’t exclusively for novel writing they’re good for pretty much any messy middle, tough beginning or anything else that requires a little pep talk.