Reckless Abandon

I had an incredible weekend. But it didn't start out that way.

Friday, as I joined in with some of my NaNo'ing friends to talk about our progress, I realised I was terribly behind, having not really written all week. And they were ahead, on track, or going to be on track very soon. They were moving, and I wasn't. And I thought to myself, "Figures. I'm just going to end up failing NaNo again because I can't commit to anything. This story is stupid anyway." Maybe I'd just lie and tell everyone I finished. Not like anyone would really know anyway.

So I started thinking about my new, NaNo-free life. It was going to be nice, wasn't it? I could focus on what was really important to me. Like my trip up to San Francisco coming up! First weekend of December, and I'm off to see my best friend! It's going to be awesome.

And then it hit me: first weekend of December. That's when all the NaNo'ers were going to be celebrating finishing NaNo. And wishing it were 1 November again so they could start again. Did I really deserve an exciting trip to see my best friend after failing to commit? Did I really deserve a vacation after taking the month off? It started to bother me that I was going to be celebrating my incompetence. I didn't want to have to tell anyone I'd failed. And lying wasn't really an option; I'd never feel good about it.

Grudgingly, I decided I wouldn't be allowed to go on my trip if I didn't finish. Telling my best friend I couldn't go visit her because I didn't bother to write a stupid story would suck, and what kind of friend would I be? I knew it would be enough motivation to get me through a miserable November. And so I sat down, looked at what little I had so far written, and started forcing out words.

And then something amazing happened: my narrator developed a personality, the story got interesting, and I was suddenly scrambling just to keep up with my out-of-control story. I caught up to the day's quota. And then I got to Saturday's quota: 10K. 20% done! I decided I wanted to hit 15K. And then I did. 20K? Too crazy. I hit it. Going out on a limb, I suggested 25K, and that would be my stopping point. 25K came and went, and I passed 30K Sunday afternoon.

What. A. Weekend. After only a few thousand words, my plot changed and started going in its own direction. Before I knew it, I was sitting at 25K at what should have been the climatic ending. Nearly 30K, and my narrator died. I knew by then I'd lost it, but I kept writing and let things play out.

And boy have things played out. I already know that what my novel has turned into is endlessly better than what it once was. Something about reckless abandon—a senseless disregard for quality and full embracement of spur of the moment ideas—led to what I consider my best work ever. Better than any other story I've written. I love what this story has become, and I cannot wait to see where the rest of it will go.

And then comes the revision.