My expectations of NaNoWriMo were minuscule- a skeleton plot, and perhaps the first draft of a first draft. I certainly did not plan to take part in any of the write-in events (60-year-old skeleton at the feast) but I contributed to the forums, especially those where participants were asking about life in antiquity…

I ignored the organisers’ advice and listened to my inner editor from the off, In the first week I worked very quickly and produced my basic story. I then went back and added layer after layer until I had reached the magic 50,000 words…and kept going. I ended up with a spoof bodice-ripper which I think will make people laugh.

I agree with Steven W. Beattie in that this is not the way serious, complex, memorable novels get written, but an exception could surely be made for comic novels which often depend upon contemporary references. Actually, come to think of it, many classical novels were first published in serial form in magazines, so tight deadlines are nothing new. A merry Christmas to you, Mr Pickwick!

The NaNoWriMo phenomenon, perhaps, is part of a similar syndrome affecting literary culture. Thanks to advances in computer technology and an increase in leisure time, along with what might be called the ‘American Idol’ effect (i.e. Anyone can be a Star! and Everyone should Try!), there are far more people writing novels than there were fifty years ago. Even though publishers are releasing more books than ever, there is simply no way to keep up with all of the wannabes sending in manuscripts, which in turn leads to the counter-charge that the Powers That Be are abdicating their job as gatekeepers. Yes, publishing houses are elitist by nature, but there is simply too much competition for everyone to get a book approved.

Not everyone deserves a book contract. In fact, websites like Lulu.com were set up to answer that very overflow of demand (confession time: I self-published my own novel due in part to a lack of publisher interest). While I agree that publishers in general need to broaden their concept of what is fit to publish (in terms of subject matter and tone, not quality), the economics of publishing are dead set against the hordes of hobby writers pecking away at their laptops in Starbucks.

There’s also a bigger question that no one seems to have an answer for: who is gonna buy and read all of these novels that everyone wants to write?

2. “Other than that, though, isn’t picking on NaNoWriMo a little like stealing a baby’s Hallowe’en candy?”

Andrew and Steven,
Well-stated arguments, but aren’t they sidestepping one of the reasons why these contests exist in the first place? They’re not simply there to juice up the engines of wannabes who otherwise can’t locate the self-discipline to write; they’re also there because the vetting system by which manuscripts are normally passed through The Filter has broken down. Yes, of course writing is a time-consuming, care-demanding activity …. What does that matter when agents who control access to acquisition editors speed-read submissions, and/or toss out some subs on the basis of cover letters (while taking seriously others; “he’s published in HuffPo *and* the Guardian? — well, I’ll read on!”), and/or otherwise cope with their workloads by taking short cuts? (And this is nobody’s “fault”; it’s built into the system.)

The primary problem facing literary production as it exists in the culture isn’t contests of this sort; it’s the fact that mss. are vetted according to all sorts of weird criteria. I’m not saying legitimate vetting doesn’t happen. And I don’t belong to the Everything That’s Published by the Majors is Crap school. All I’m saying is, good work doesn’t see the light of day. Two the best short stories I’ve read, bar none, are Canadian, and remain unpublished.

So, then, a challenge to the two of you: I’ve got an ms. that I think is both artistically accomplished and would sell. It’s somewhat on the experimental side, but that’s okay; CanLit is an enterprise which needs the occasional fire-cracker.

I would like you both to read it. In exchange, I’ll read anything of yours that you wish (non-fiction included), will comment on it, and will interview you about it if you so desire.

There it is: my little CanLit challenge — not based on manuscript-writing, but manuscript-reading. Make November Canadian Mss. That Can’t Get Published the Regular Way But Should Month. Or something. And it’s open, incidentally, to any other writers who read this site and are honourable, trustworthy sorts who respect copyright (including copyright of ideas).

Hell, Heritage Canada might even fund the coffee.

Writing about how to write is the oldest scam in the book, but conventionally we come to it by writing a few novels and then running out of things to say. Baty found a way to get direct to the scam without actually having anything to say in the first place.

Other than that, though, isn’t picking on NaNoWriMo a little like stealing a baby’s Hallowe’en candy?