Because I am a glutton for punishment, I am participating in this April’s Camp NaNoWriMo.
Although I write every day throughout the year, I enjoy the sense of community and cocksureness that comes with a NaNoWriMo marathon. I go in every year for the November event and over the past couple of years I’ve tried a spring or summer challenge as well, so I thought I’d offer some advice to someone trying their hand at a Camp for the first time.
Write something other than a novel.
Novels are great, don’t get me wrong. Love reading ’em. Love writing ’em. But part of Camp NaNoWriMo’s charm lies in venturing outside of the noveling box. Try writing 30 new flash fictions. Crank out a dozen short stories. Craft haiku after haiku about pasta. Write a film or comic script. Draft a new blog post daily. You can choose any format you like, so don’t’ be afraid to go wild. Just as with IRL camp, Camp NaNoWriMo is a great time to step outside of our comfort zones and explore new territory.
Test the waters of a new genre.
NaNoWriMo is about challenging ourselves. Picking a new genre, format, style of writing, or POV is a great way to flex some muscle groups that might have atrophied in our day to day practices. I’m trying a sort of western adventure this time around (I read them, but I’ve never tried to write one) and from a first person perspective, which is another rarely-used tool in my arsenal. If not now, then when?
Raise the stakes.
50K is apparently a cake walk for some people. I’m sticking with the traditional goal this spring, but if you’re feeling frisky you could try a higher level of difficulty. See if you can’t do 60,000 (2000 words a day) or 75,000 (that’s 2500 words a day). Some people try 100K. Wild.
Lower the stakes.
If you’ve attempted the 50K challenge before but never quite managed to pull it off, then Camp NaNo is a wonderful thing.
Reaching your daily goal doesn’t need to feel like torture. You can set a total of 25K. You can try for 100 words a day. The real point of NaNoWriMo, I think, is to make the habit of writing daily, and whatever your word count goal: you’re working to build good habits that can last you throughout the year.
Join a cabin.
I’m a diehard misanthrope, but even I rush to get sorted into a cabin come Camp time. You’re not going to connect with every last one of your cabin mates, and the number of active members will have most likely dwindled by the end of the month, but those that chat back and stick around will prove to be a real source of support. You can choose whether you want to be matched with people of your same age group, or writing within the same genre or word count goals if you prefer, but whatever you choose I highly recommend settling into your digital bunk and singing songs with the rest of us. It’s fun, I promise.
All of the other advice applies.
If this is your first NaNoWriMo ever, then be sure to check out all of the resources at your disposal! There are a tonne of blog posts, videos, articles, and even a few books that will help you on your way no matter the season. I posted some tips on getting ready for the main event on my blog last year, and they most definitely apply this April.
Throw caution to the wind.
Try not to worry about whether your plot has holes or if your characters are rice-paper thin. Like most things, you can always fix it later. Right now—the first draft—is about getting the story down so that you can change it. Swat away any mosquitos of doubt. This month is about laying down a base to build future story upon. It’s about creating something that will inform your later drafts—even if all that means is letting you know what isn’t going to work. In the immortal words of my favourite fictional teacher:
“It’s time to take chances! Make mistakes! Get messy!”
It’s already April, and the first few days of camp are happily underway, so slather on some sunscreen, hike up those socks, and let’s get our hands dirty. With words, I mean.
If you’re taking part in Camp NaNoWriMo this April, let me know in the comments below, and include any tips of tricks you’ve discovered in your travels.
Last one into the water’s a rotten egg.