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Posts Tagged ‘nanowrimo’

I’ve done something known as NaNoWriMo since 2009 officially, 2006 unofficially. Won every time. So, 2006, 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012, 2013, 2014. 2015 will be my eighth year and attempt.

I have also done JulNo, Camp NaNo, Script Frenzy, and JanNo – some spin-offs and knockoffs of the same challenge.

Back in 2011, I wrote a post about wanting to do a whole Writing year – or challenge year, anyway. Similar to WriYe.

This next year, 2016, I want to actually make that happen. And I want to do it as a merge of WriYe and Milwordy,  that is, write a million words in a year, but definitely do any sort of writing for a whole year. I doubt it will happen though but it’s good to set goals.

To put things in perspective: 12 NaNo’s, if you stop at 50k words a month, is 600,000 words. The entirety of the Harry Potter series is twice that and two thirds more; that’s a lot of NaNoWriMo’s for one whole series.

Plus with NaNo, you don’t necessarily have to stop at 50k. One year, I wrote three projects in one month and got it up to 150k. That was the same year I was able to knock out a 25,000 word in one day record/goal. I was aiming for a 50k weekend but that didn’t happen, though if I didn’t start late it probably would have.

This year. I will be participating in NaNoWriMo as well. As soon as I hit Year Ten, which will be 2017, I am attending the Night of Writing Dangerously in California. It will be my reward to myself because I can.

But yes. I am participating this year in NaNoWriMo and I have two ideas but I’m not sure which one to go with. And the other one will still probably be written at a later time no matter which I pick first.

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Hello, my name is Dmitry and I’m a writer. Some people also call me Mitya. But on several writing communities, I am known as DimiTheDominator, or just Dimi.

For a long time, I have been writing. Lots of people have told me, “you are a writer at heart”, “writing is in your blood”, and “you are your dad’s son.” That last one is relevant because my father himself is a relatively well-known writer, but some people who I’ve come to know in the past couple of months have never even heard of him until I mentioned, which is always nice to bring in new fans – err…well…umm. Anyway, enough about that.

I can’t even tell you when I first began writing. I think it was when I was about ten years old. Maybe. It was definitely after the CD of Carmen Sandiego’s Great Chase Through Time/Where In Time Is Carmen Sandiego? was released. I recall a point in the game where the setting was Japan, and one Murasaki Shikibu (Lady Murasaki) was missing a page that she wrote for The Tale of Genji, and according to Wikipedia, since I can’t check any other source to provide me with semi-reliable information (good thing this isn’t a topic for an essay, but if it was, oh my god I’d have so much fun writing it), The Tale of Genji is apparently the earliest known novel in human history. Two years later, I remembered about this book and I wanted to buy it to read it. That was both the best and the worst ever decision, literature-wise, that I had ever made. Why the best? Because I loved to read to get my writing skills improved. Why the worst? Because I didn’t know what I was getting myself into. That book alone has over one thousand pages.  I think the exact amount was, oh, I’d say…1347? I don’t know, that’s just a guesstimate. I still have the book. It’s hiding in plain sight at my house. To this day, I am still reading it. I’m on page 546, or something like that. I can’t believe I haven’t finished it. That’s even worse than only being halfway through with Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. Even though you can’t really compare the two. But anyway…

I used to write because I was trying to impress my father, who I always considered to be the better, or rather, the only good writer in the family. Although I was merely basing his talent off of his success. To me, my last name is a label. A label that’s pretty much what I thought would be unfair advantage and a one-way ticket to success in the business of writing and publishing. You know, not exactly equal opportunity. I never once wrote with the thought, “damn, my work should be published somewhere because I think it’s good.” I started out with poems. Little ones. Haiku. And then I moved on to bigger and better things – blog posts, short stories, and hell, even novels.

Ah, novels. That’s right. I’ve known about National Novel Writing Month for quite a few years now. My first attempt, albeit unofficial, was in 2006. I don’t remember ever registering an account name there, and if I did, it’s long gone by now because I don’t think I ever really accessed it at all, so I had to make a new alias for myself on the site regardless of whether I joined or not. Anyway, the 2006 attempt is still undetermined whether it hit 50k words or not. I literally do not know if I won the challenge or failed at it miserably. Either way, in 2007 I forgot about the challenge completely. In 2008…I found out about it the month after it was already over. December. And in 2009, I made my “comeback” in September. I didn’t know who I was writing for. I got 70,048 words on my first and still to this day only complete novel, The Hunt for Lane, and I’m very happy about it. On Facebook, a lot of people were asking me,

“So when is that thing getting published? No idea what it’s about, but I’d love to read it.”

“Where can I buy that book? Of course I’d need some money to afford it first.”

“When you get this published, I want a complimentary copy. Autographed, of course.”

And variations of the statement with the words “book/novel” and “published” written all over them.

This got me thinking… just who the hell am I even writing for to begin with?

My father was impressed with a small piece of my novel when I was translating ten pages of it into Russian, so that made my intention of “I’m writing to measure up to my father and his skill and talent” be…well, fulfilled, for lack of a better word. So I can’t be writing for him anymore.

For NaNoWriMo 2009 and 2010, I didn’t feel like I was writing for fun, even. I felt like I was writing for a region. That my word count mattered more for its statistics than myself. And it did. It kind of felt horrible. Very horrible.

Around this time, February of last year, I wrote the last chapter – or rather, the epilogue, to my ’09 NaNo. Since NaNo ’10 ended, I haven’t written a damn thing except that horrible piece of garbage that was 21,000 words long in January that only like…12% of it was actual “novel”, if you could even CALL it that. The rest was just dumb rambling about nothing significant. I didn’t have fun writing it. And I failed JanNoWriMo. But that’s okay.

 

It is now February 2011, and I am not writing, although I do wish to write… but I simply cannot. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.

I am not writing for publication (at least not yet). I am not writing for a target audience. I am not writing for anyone who demands it. I am writing for me. And sometimes it’s fun. Sometimes it’s not.

NaNoWriMo 2010

I spent most of November 2010 writing a novelization of a comic I was doing at a different online community. It was going well, and I was keeping up with the legendary sushimustwrite for quite a while, until…well, lets just say something came up and I had writer’s block. Anyway, I met more people throughout this time period, attempted (and failed) the 50kweekend challenge, invaded the NaNoLanta chatroom…I had fun, but I still feel like I wasn’t writing for me. I just wanted to not continue with it anymore, even though I’d already ‘won’ NaNo by the 6th day, it seemed pointless to continue. And… it was, and it wasn’t all at the same time. I don’t know how to explain it. If any of the NanoLanta people (or even pseudo-NaNoLanta people such as myself and a few others) are reading this right now, I miss the times when chat wasn’t so empty. I go in there every now and then to see if anyone is still in there, and it’s basically a dead zone. I loved getting to know you all, even if we still don’t really all know each other at all. I just… I don’t know. I miss you, I miss the chatroom, I miss NaNoWriMo and… it’s just not the same.

I can’t even seem to write for fun now, because it’s not. I tried opening my NaNo ’10 file and get an ending accomplished. What did I do instead?  I started reading it from the beginning. The file had 237. I got to page 30 and…I was crying. It was mostly the scenes though that were real tear-jerkers. I was impressed with myself. I’ve never been impressed with myself. I also read my NaNo ’09, and I didn’t really like it that much. But this… this was just beautiful. I couldn’t believe it. I think I said to myself, “Okay, who the hell wrote this? I want to meet th–OH MY GOD IT WAS ME. I DON’T WRITE THIS WELL. I NEVER  WROTE THIS WELL, AND YET…”

I miss NaNoWriMo. I miss knowing that others are writing with me, no matter where in the world. I miss updates like the last bit of the above paragraph. I miss word wars and word sprints. I miss outlining and researching things for plot related things. I miss being able to write three thousand words per day no questions asked. I miss the fast paced and catchy writing soundtrack. I miss it all.

That’s all for now.

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