I’m one of those authors who thrives on pressure. Unlike many, I like deadlines. They motivate me to work and get words down, no matter how much I might want to avoid writing on a particular day. But deadlines only work for me when they’re imposed by someone else — someone with authority. Like an editor.

I’ve never been able to hold myself accountable in the same way. It’s as though my subconscious mind won’t be fooled by anything that doesn’t come with very real consequences. Can’t meet an editor given deadline? There are real consequences to that. I might not get another contract. I’ll ruin my relationship with the publisher. My book might never see the light of day elsewhere.

But if I miss a deadline I impose on myself? Eh. No big deal. I can push it back a day. Or two. Or a week. Or a month. Before I know it, I’m twiddling my thumbs six months later because I’ve pushed that “deadline” back so many times I lost count.

According to its Wikipedia page, NaNoWriMo is “a creative writing project held annually in November in which participants attempt to write a 50,000 word novel in one month.” It’s a great way for writers to engage in a community of authors all attempting to do the same thing. And that’s commendable.

But there are no consequences for not meeting the 1,667 word daily goal. And instead of acting as a driving incentive, it’ll simply be pressure… for the sake of pressure. That has the opposite effect on me. It makes me stress out, wallow in guilt when I don’t make the word count (and that’s pretty much inevitable), and generally hate every moment of what’s likely to be an interminable month.

No thanks. For me, the best approach — aside from an editor-imposed deadline — is steady progress. A little bit of progress, every day. 500 words is great. 1000, even better. 1500? I love those days.

I won’t be writing an entire novel in the month of November. But you know what? That’s okay. I will be writing, and that’s all that matters.

(NaNoWriMo image by: mpclemens)

There’s something so exciting about beginning work on a new project. A new story always starts with a grain of an idea. It could be a character, like… a hardened warrior sitting in a tavern drinking mead. Or it could be a premise, like… what if a woman traveled through a time portal and ended up inhabiting the body of an ancient Egyptian queen?

Whatever spurs the concept, at this stage, there are no limitations placed on what this book could become. The story has the potential to become anything at all. All this freedom is a double-edged sword, though. On one hand, there is so much potential, it’s easy to get excited about the inevitable brainstorming exercises and creative tasks that go along with starting a new story. On the other hand, this is about the same time that the first niggling of doubt starts to set in.

“Can I pull this off?”

“But I don’t know anything about giant lizards / Peru / the way to kill someone using chlorinated water and a plastic spork.”

“What makes me think I can write, anyway?”

When I hit the last question, I know I need to take a deep breath and a step back. Because this is the fun part of the process. It’s pure play. Self doubt has no place here.

Nor is self doubt welcome when I finally start writing the first draft. Or when I edit. Or when I send the book into the world. Can I banish it altogether? No. If I could, I’d probably write and submit a whole lot more. But I can take it one day at a time, one story idea at a time… and see what happens.

(image by Pixeldiva)

My rating: 5 of 5 stars

As always, Evanovich delivers a fast paced, light, easy read. I flew through this book. Unlike the previous installments, this one felt a little… fluffy. Perhaps it was because I couldn’t quite get into the main case. I liked the evolving relationship between Stephanie and Morelli, and as always, I had a few laugh-out-loud moments. Overall, another good installment in this series. (A)

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