Dig Out Those Crayons

The other day I was cleaning up after one of my children’s many creative projects and found that I had a giant pile of art work to contend with. Although everything they create, in my eyes, is a masterpiece, most of it quickly makes its way to the recycle bin. I usually pick one or two outstanding pieces from each session and toss the rest; if I didn’t, we would be drowning in paper due to the sheer volume of art they make each day.

How wonderful to be so prolific, to create with such abandon. They have yet to find their inner (and outer) critics and I hope they can hold onto their freedom for as long as possible. As I disposed of piles of self-portraits and abstracts pieces (and tried not to feel guilty for doing so), I came to the idea that my children did not expect me to keep every scrap. For them it was more about the process than the result. The sheer joy of creation was what they were after. Whatever they make, they do it for themselves first, then show me for approval. As every parent knows, my job is not to critique, but to bear witness to their creation. Once I have seen what they have done, the piece is quickly cast aside and a new work is in progress.

Learning to enjoy the creative process without judgment is an old refrain, but we need to be reminded of it often. When was the last time you created something purely for joy, without the attachment of expectations? How many of us write for ourselves, alone, without worrying about what agents want, or how big our advance will be, or if Steven Spielberg will want to buy the movie rights?

Today, create something for you, alone. Just for the fun of it.

Write a Novel in 30 Days?

I know I promised to divulge a secret for creating sympathetic characters—and I promise to get to it soon—but I couldn’t help commenting first on National Novel Writing Month. Through the month of November, writers and aspiring writers alike are encouraged to try producing a 50,000 word manuscript. Obviously, speed is the goal here, as well as ignoring your inner censor. It’s a chance for self-critical writers to let go and just produce instead of second-guessing every word. Admittedly, the quality of the work will suffer, but by the time the November 30th deadline rolls around, the hope is that the writer will have a first draft to work with.

As someone who has spent MANY hours fretting over word choice when I should have just kept plowing ahead, I fully understand the need for momentum. I also like the community and accountability aspect of such an exercise. If someone is too afraid to take the writing plunge, this project just might be motivation he needs.

And yet I really wonder if this exercise is really all that valuable. Except in those rare instances when a writer is overcome with frenzied inspiration (like my friend Pat, for example), it’s completely unrealistic to think a writer can force himself to write a novel in a month. At best, he will likely end up with a glorified outline—not a complete novel—which is definitely a fine starting place, but not an end unto itself. At worst, he will end up with a mess of false starts, wrong detours, and shallow thinking that will require much more work to untangle than he would have otherwise had to contend with had he taken a more deliberate approach.

What I suspect might actually happen for most writers who attempt the exercise is that at the end of the month they’ll fall short of the goal. Either they won’t make the word count, or the story will be unfinished, or maybe they will hate every word that they’ve written. What concerns me is that these writers will be too discouraged to work beyond the end of the month, and that they’ll blame themselves instead of seeing that their expectations were unrealistic to begin with.

I also question the wisdom of celebrating speed over quality. It’s easy to write the first thing that comes to our heads, but the real art comes from digging deeper, past even the second or third idea that comes to us. I would argue that a writer should take more pride in a single, well-crafted sentence than a month’s worth of thoughtless purging.

The concept of a month dedicated to writing a novel would serve writers better if the requirement was a daily time commitment and the goal was determined by each writer, individually. Many writers will find that they need a push to get started, but many more will need support in the middle of their novels, when the initial inspiration has worn off and the end is nowhere in sight. It is here—in this tenuous no man’s land—where most writers abandon their stories and where they need the most support. The solution is commitment, not speed.