I began with the best of intentions, fully prepared to write often and even write well. I was going to crank out those 50,000 words, and frak anyone or anything that got in my way. I was on a mission! I was makin’ words! I was ready for some literal, nonmusical blood, sweat and tears! I’m unstoppable, suckas!!

And then I dropped out.

How did intention and energy and drive all get dashed? It wasn’t lack of preparation. I intended to use this month’s mad noveling sprint to get a ginormous head start on my second novel, and as such I had pages and pages of notes. I have my characters plotted out, as well as notations on key scenes for each. I have ideas on where it will start and where it will end. I was prepared, dammit, so much more so than with my first painful novel writing experience.

And it showed. The writing I did do at the beginning of this month was easier, more enjoyable, and infinitely more novel-like than the first 6,000 words of the other novel. It was almost like I was a novelist, yo!

But then life intervened. I had last minute deadlines for freelance projects. I had a few new client meetings and proposals to prepare. I spent four days in LA for a friend’s wedding. I was sick. And as the days passed with no writing completed, and the amount of words I would need to catch up increased to eye-popping levels, I made an executive decision. I dropped out. (And for some reason I can’t get “Beauty School Dropout” out of my head…)

I write this post for several reasons. Some of you lovely readers are everyday readers, and knew I was engaging in this marathon of the mind and fingers. I owed you an update. But I also write this for the other dropouts, real or imagined or planned. You’re probably feeling a little pissed at yourself, like me. You’re probably feeling a little sad, and worried about your ability to hack it as a novelist. You’re probably feeling a little angry, and lashing out at the entire idea. (”Who can write a fucking novel in a month?? Stupid NaNoWriMo…”)

Sometimes quitting is necessary for sanity. But you can still feel pretty wretched about it. You know how I make this OK in my head, and how you can too? I dropped out with a condition for myself. I can’t write everyday, even for a month. I’m writing for work, I’m writing for my blogs, I’m marketing myself and examining new business directions, and I’m still making some revisions and queries for my first novel. But what I can do is write a few days a week. I’m dropping out of NaNoWriMo on the condition that I write three days a week in my new novel. I’m aiming for 2,000 words at each sitting, and with that I’ll be writing around 6,000 words at week. That’s a good, rigorous, challenging, but doable schedule for me.

So I made a deal with myself, and now I embark upon fulfilling that promise. At this rate I’ll complete this second novel in 3-4 months. I may miss out on the NaNoWriMo festivities and community, but I’ll get where I want to go. And you can too.

What do you think? Any dropouts out there? Any deals you’ve made with yourselves? Tell us about it in the comments!

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