Welcome to Day Thirteen. This particular year it falls on a Friday, which is an interesting day to cross over the 50,000-word mark to say the least. Technically that means I’ll have “won” Nanowrimo, even though the book isn’t finished. Even if I had written an entire book by now, it isn’t finished.
Everyone together now: A FIRST DRAFT ISN’T READY FOR PUBLICATION.
I can’t write a Nano book and not address all the hard work you need to put in after that first draft is done. We have a lot more ground to cover, and cover it we shall.
But what better day to handle the idea of competition than the day that I arguably “defeat” it?
I feel your feathers ruffling already. But stick with me, I have a point.
Nanowrimo spurs the competitive streak within us all, to come out on top of the pack. If only 20% of participants cross the finish line on any given year, those who are driven to be the best of the best will do whatever they can do to meet that challenge, to claim that coveted status.
One of my favorite “reality” shows is “American Ninja Warrior.” Inspired by a Japanese athletic competition called “Sasuke,” ANW features a ridiculously difficult obstacle course run in four stages of increasing difficulty.
To tell you how impossible this challenge can be, it took seven years for anyone to reach stage 4.
We were watching a show for seven seasons that literally had no “winner," if you count "winning" as completing the entire course.
But that didn’t take anything away from the show. Not by a long shot. The fact that it was so hard to master made us root for these athletes even more. It made those athletes train even harder. The fact that it had proven impossible didn’t matter one iota to any of us.
We wanted to see someone do the impossible. That was why we tuned in.
The best part about this show was that the athletes themselves rooted just as hard for their competitors as they did for themselves. They understood how difficult the course was. Anyone who conquered a course demanded their immediate respect.
Though they each competed for the million-dollar prize at the end, they knew their ultimate competition wasn’t the guy or girl standing next to them. It was the athlete inside that wanted to beast that course just to prove they could.
That’s kind of how I look at Nano, without (most of) the personal injury.
It’s one more chance to prove we can do something that others dismiss as impossible.
I know that’s why I personally respond so well to it, and perhaps what drives those who do win to keep going until they cross the finish line. Of the hundreds of thousands who start, only a small fraction ever finishes this obstacle course, which – for any writer at least–is just as daunting as an ANW course. It demands your very best on a daily basis, and not everyone is willing or able to meet that challenge.
The same could be said of anything worth doing.
Whether Nano, ANW or getting a promotion at your job, here’s the real truth: the only people we compete against during any challenge are ourselves. It’s not a matter of being “better” than anyone else. It’s proving we have what it takes to meet insane challenges that prove the impossible is possible.
And that will be true for you your whole career as a professional writer. If money is the true mark of success, around the same number who complete Nano make any kind of money selling their books, and even fewer “crack the code” to become notable doing it.
The reason isn’t because there’s a limited amount of money to be spent on books. There’s an unlimited amount of money to be spent on books. It’s an industry worth billions of dollars. It isn’t because readers only have a slot or two open for the writers they’ll read. Some read every single book they can get their hands on. They love to read. They love to find new authors to read. New authors equal new books. For bibliophiles, there’s really nothing better than the idea of a new book. Why do you think we all walk into bookstores like we’ve reached our own personal Nirvana? Show of hands how many of you could spend hours prowling a bookstore, whether a big, three-story Barnes & Nobel or that dinky little used bookstore just around the corner.
Show of hands of people who have done both, usually within the last year.
This isn’t about who beats whom. If you write a book, and you publish a book, and you sell a book that a reader then reads and enjoys the book, you’ve won.
You’ve done what they told you could not be done, because the odds are so stacked against you. It is a victory against anyone who ever told you that you should have a Plan B, because making it in this business was an impossible dream.
When I complete Nano on time or early, it isn’t to rub it in the face of any other participant who isn’t there yet. It’s to thumb my nose at all the people who say that it can’t be done, that it’s too hard, that it’s impossible.
It isn't impossible, because I just did it. That was what this experiment set out to prove.
It’s difficult, granted. It takes time and effort and focus and determination, but it’s not impossible.
All of my heroes are writing powerhouses, none of whom need the kick in the ass that Nano provides; they were just driven to create something concrete.
We talked somewhat about my adoration of John Hughes. I honestly don’t think the 1980s would have been the same without him. He’s the one who inspired me to put heart into my stories, whatever they happened to be. His were stories about human connection, about family and friendship and love, and the triumph of the human spirit. Yeah, sometimes, most times, they came dressed up in juvenile humor, but it was humor with a heart. And that will always, always, always inspire me to make each and every story I write as emotionally significant.
I want to write something that, in thirty years, younger generations will still remember, and respect.
Not bad for a movie written over a weekend. Just sayin.'
I’ll never be John Hughes, and that’s okay. It’s not my job to be him or to beat him. My only obligation in this business is to be myself, and offer what no other writer can: Me. It’s up to me to up my game and run my own race, since that’s the only way I’ll ever “win” in the first place.
Our business is one where the outsiders like to compare us to each other, but it’s sheer creative suicide if we do it to ourselves. The reason we write isn’t to be better than anyone else. Though we have to fight for each and every dollar we make, we’re not in competition with each other for that dollar. It’s not like each reader only has one slot to fill for the books that they read, the money that they spend or the authors that they love. Just because I have a dozen favorites doesn’t mean that I’ll shut off reading anyone else. I’m excited to find new books to read and new authors to enjoy. There’s room for all of us. And we can all be successful, if we just concentrate on winning our own race and making each book we write the very best it can be.
Then, and only then, will we “crack the code,” finding our own little corner of the universe to rule.
There’s a reader for every book. Some readers read hundreds of books a year, and seek out new authors to read constantly. It isn’t about being better than another writer. It’s being so good that the audience buys two books instead of one.
If you get into the nasty little habit of comparing yourself against every other writer, be prepared for a lot of bitterness and resentment. Though we all do the same work, opportunity and chance are fickle mistresses who light upon whomever they choose for no reason at all. You can put in the time, do everything right, and watch someone who “took shortcuts” or “didn’t take the craft as seriously” or “sell out” race ahead of you, making more money than you could ever imagine, while your book languishes in digital purgatory somewhere, some forgotten link on Amazon.
You’re not automatically rewarded in this business by the hard work and effort you put into it, which is what makes it so frustrating. There are no Paint-By-Numbers guidelines anywhere that guarantee your success. Your success is not guaranteed, certainly in the ways that most define it (monetary compensation and recognition.) Your “success,” whether it’s writing a bestselling book or doing this as a full-time job or winning awards, usually depends on someone else entirely, namely all the readers out there who just want a good book to read that they can connect with.
You can control one, but not the other.
All you can control is what you produce. Each book is a brand new opportunity to teach yourself something new, to stretch outside your boundaries… to grow, so that you can find that magical connection one day.
Often you do this by grasping the hands of other writers who have gotten a little ahead of you in the journey, so they can guide you where you need to go. They aren’t your enemy, not by a long shot. They’re the only ones who truly understand you and your journey, and to set yourself up in competition of them is unwise and even self-destructive.
We aren’t mired in some competition, ready to take each other down in some battle to the death. We’re blessed to be a community, who hold each other up on the shoulders of greatness, a greatness we had to fight for one word at a time like everyone else.
I wouldn’t be where I am today if it hadn’t been for other writers. One of the greatest influences of my professional career is my very good friend, Marie D. Jones. We met in the 1990s when I worked for a photographer, who conducted business out of her personal apartment. Marie happened to live in that apartment building and, ever so fortuitously, was looking for a job. She came to work with us, where we bonded immediately over shared creative vision. She was an aspiring writer/screenwriter, too. In fact, she was the first one to tell me, outside of my agent at least, that I could totally write a screenplay if I wanted, when such an idea seemed so far-fetched at the time.
I had no idea how to write a screenplay, even if I had plenty of ideas what to write for one.
In 2010, she was the one who gave me the “No Plan B,” advice that [50,000-limit officially reached] ignited my own professional writing career. She’s the one who ultimately introduced me to my agent, and remained a bug in her ear for years to tell her that I was good enough to represent until that’s exactly what happened.
She’s the one who read all those sophomoric attempts that should have embarrassed me to show anyone, since they were so raw and incomplete, but she didn’t see the flaws like I did. She saw the potential, and encouraged me to reach for it, giving me hints, advice and support to do it.
Simply put: I wouldn’t have grown into the writer I am today had she not been there to guide the path.
This is why it’s so important to foster relationships with other writers. Join a writing club. Join organizations. Participate in groups. Share your work. Commiserate. Lean on one another.
These are the only people who truly understand what you’re going through.
Like I said, there are no guidelines. No one gets up the mountain exactly the same way. You never know what is going to work until it does, and who better to offer suggestions than someone who is already a little further up that mountain than you?
When I started writing screenplays, I found myself a community full of people who were in the very same boat I was in. We all wanted to crack the code and get our foot in the door, so we all helped each other wherever we could. We’d post pages for feedback from others. We’d give feedback on those pages posted by someone else.
Some of the people in that group did indeed crack the code. That was where I chatted with screenwriter Gary Whitta about zombies in the early 2000s, way before he made a name for himself writing “The Book of Eli.”
That was where I met William C. Martell, a ridiculously prolific screenwriter with dozens of films to his credit. He shared his wisdom then, he shares it now.
That was where I met a cowriter who put me in contact with a director he knew, who was looking for a vampire script to produce. Even though my option fell through, I learned more from those five months of screenwriting than I ever could have learned from any book or course.
It’s important to foster this community. It’s important to utilize it, as a source of education and inspiration. It’s important to embrace it, not as a battle to be won. There is room for everyone at the table.
Art is subjective. This is not something you get into in order to “be better than.” Your success depends on your own personal excellence, not whether or not you can best another writer. You may think you're better than [insert name of hacky, overrated writer here] and some readers may agree. Others may inhale whatever [hacky overrated writer] produces like a can of potato chips. We like what we like, and that's just the way it is. When they pick up your book, readers want to know only one thing. Can you write a great book? By great, I mean a book that someone pays money for and loves and remembers, because that’s the only measure of greatness that really counts in this business.
This personal excellence doesn’t depend on squashing someone else underfoot, and if it does... that doesn't speak too highly of your confidence in your own writing. If you've written the best book you can as effectively as you can, you don't worry about what anyone else is doing. You know that you've done the very best you could, producing a book only you could produce, and ultimately it will find an audience based on its own merit, not the rise and fall of anyone else.
I didn’t start participating in Nano to beat the ones who didn’t/couldn’t finish. Since that's what is commonly expected, you get a ribbon just for giving it a whirl. I wanted more than a participation ribbon. I started participating so I could stand shoulder to shoulder with those who did, because that is what everyone thinks is impossible.
I wanted to belong to the club, and I knew I would have to earn my place by doing what others say cannot be done.
Trust me, you’re going to see people succeed that you don’t think are any "good," or – the more sinful admission – “as good as you.” One of the most successful books in the last decade was widely panned for being poorly written. Yet it made money hand over fist, which can piss off anyone who has devoted years of their lives to get their books as perfect as they can possibly get them.
It didn’t matter what the critics said. The book reached an audience who passionately embraced it, and that’s a win. That it launched other careers by other talented unknowns is an ever bigger win, for all of us. It turned people onto reading, which pumped billions of dollars into our industry and sold millions of books, a few of my own included.
How can I hate on that?
If you place yourself in competition with other people, you’re going to set yourself up for bitter disappointment. This is a business where no two races to the top are identical. You can’t get mired down with what other people are doing, because it’s simply unfair to compare. What worked for them may not work for you. And that’s okay. What you have to offer is so radically different anyway, simply because it came from you.
Why do you think I speak out so vehemently about those who want to impose their own personal limitations on other writers?
“You can’t write a book in a month.”
No, you can’t write a book in a month. That doesn’t mean it can’t be done. Writers do it all the time. And those books sell, by the way. Those books go on to be bestselling books, as well as money-making movies. Sara Gruen’s “Water for Elephants” started as a Nanowrimo project. Charles Dickens wrote “A Christmas Carol” in six weeks, to get it on the market in time for the holidays, as egregious as any money-grab that these naysayers constantly condemn as “hackish” behavior.
Yet it’s a classic. It’s beloved and revered, and it is retold again and again, revisited again and again, because each new generation just can’t get enough of it.
Not bad for a hack. Just sayin.’
I’m more of a “possibilities” kind of gal. I don’t like restrictions. If someone tells me I can’t do something, I’m immediately inspired to prove them wrong. I like knowing that the world is as infinite as my power to make my place in it.
I’m not worried about being better than Danielle Steel or EL James or Nicholas Sparks. I’m focused on being the best Ginger Voight I can be, so that her name can be found among them one day.
Getting there. Slowly. I'm so focused on getting up that mountain that I don't really have the time or energy to worry about what other people are doing or not doing. I’m doing it my way, because I get to. You can do it your way, because you get to. Neither way is right or wrong, and can be as different as you can possibly imagine.
Why would we ever want to compare the two?
Believe in yourself and what you can do. Prove it to yourself on a daily basis. When possible, go beyond that invisible line and surprise yourself with how amazing you can be. It’s totally within your power to do that, and you should go for broke whenever the opportunity presents itself. In anything, not just the writing.
Yeah, sometimes you’ll fall flat on your face, which gets a whole lot harder to do as more and more people take notice and start watching.
But every single time you get up, you’re learning something new about yourself.
Most of all, you’re learning how much this dream means to you, and how much crap you’re willing to wade through to make it happen.
For some of us, that means writing a book in 30 days just to prove that we can. Whether or not it’s a good book… shrug. As always, that’s for the audience to decide.
All you can control is what you do, which has dick to do with what anyone else is doing.
At the end of the day, you’re the only one on the hook for your own accomplishments. So run your own race. And, wherever possible, support others as they run theirs.
Your homework tonight is finding/renting/watching “Authors Anonymous,” the 2014 movie starring Kaley Cuoco, which highlights in painfully comedic ways how silly it is to compete against other writers, even though that's often exactly what we do.
Tomorrow we continue the race to finish a book in 30 days. Not everyone can do that, but if you’re still with me, fighting for each and every word, staying in this race and not giving up, daring to prove the impossible is possible, I’ve got an inkling you just may.
Let’s do this.
Together.
Started First Draft: November 13, 2015 1:16pm PST
Completed First draft: November 12, 2015 2:19pm PST
Word Count of first draft: 2,037
Completed revisions: November 12, 2015 4:21pm PST
Updated WC: 3,203/52,211
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