“No work is ever
wasted. If it’s not working, let go and move on –it’ll come back around to be
useful later.” –Former Pixar Story Artist, Emma Coats
My 2014 NaNoWriMo novel was a wreck. Though I did reach the
50,000 word goal, the project fell apart at the end of November. You can track
that disaster, which starts with this post (the pre-Nano
portion of my Nano Log), if you’re interested. And, in case you don’t know
what Nano is, you can check out the website here.
It’s a fantastic program for writers of all kinds that comes with a supportive
and inspirational community.
Despite its early end, the project was a great exercise in
character development for me, and I really had a lot of fun writing it. I also
learned a lot about my personal writing style. And whether or not I continue
work on that particular novel, I can already see the positive impact that it’s
had on every project since then, whether directly or indirectly.
I think the biggest writing lesson that I’ve learned through
failure—other than the importance of backing up my work, which I had to learn
the hard way—is that I excel at preparation.
I don’t, however, excel at improvising (or, as the writing
community often calls it, pantsing—as in, flying by the seat of your pants).
That November, I’d decided to experiment by trying this
method. I knew plenty of writers who wrote this way, and it seemed worth it to
give it a try. When I started writing, I had a hazy idea about what I wanted to
happen in the story. My characters were paper-thin collections of facts. To
push myself along in the process, I’d collected random writing prompts from the
internet, hoping that they’d keep words coming as I wrote my draft.
As someone who likes to plan ahead, I often prewrite for
about as long as I draft or revise. Generally, I can be found outlining or
graphing plots and subplots or creating detailed analysis profiles for
characters or designing fictional worlds.
Because I’d decided to pants, I did none of these things. The
plot followed my internet prompts and whatever ideas popped into my head. And
it took a while for my characters to go from two-dimensional ideas to
believable people. I just jumped into the whole thing and did whatever came
naturally.
Some of it was good, some of it was bad. And I managed to
grow a lot as an author because of that. My good points got better, and my
weaker points improved with the practice.
By the end of the month, I had an entertaining plot,
engaging scenes, and relatable characters.
By the end of the month, I’d also discovered a problem
during my research. I’d based my entire novel on an incorrect assumption. The
premise that was the backbone of my book was flawed and I couldn’t use it.
So I had to shelf that project for now. I may find a way to repair
and finish it, or I may not. Either way, it was an
enjoyable learning experience.
When it comes to writing, I’ve seen that effort is never
wasted. I don’t trash any of my ideas; I recycle them. I’ve seen themes,
characters, and plot ideas return reincarnated, better than they were before
and more fitting in my newer work. Whatever I don’t use the way I’d originally
intended, I learn from.
Don’t be afraid to experiment as you write. Learn from your
mistakes. Build future stories on the foundation of all the lessons you’ve
learned. As a result, everything you write post-error will automatically start
out stronger.
For anyone who’s interested in checking out some of my 2014
work-in-progress, Flying Change, I posted
several excerpts throughout my Nano journey. You can read those stating with this post here.
What lessons have you learned through your writing, whether you
went the easy route or the hard one? Let me know in the comments below or link
me to a blog post of your own!
