Camp Pep: The Importance of Joy in Writing

Camp NaNoWriMo is nothing without you, our incredible participants. Today, Grant Faulkner, our executive director urges you to party:

Dear Diehard Writers,

It’s the third week of Camp NaNoWriMo, which means two things to me: 1) we’re heading into the home stretch (yay!); and 2) my fingers are beginning to cramp into a claw-like formation as I grind toward another word-count milestone.

I’m caught in a paradoxical trap. I’m still behind on my word count, thanks to a bad cold during week one, so I need to honor Camp’s boot-camp ethos and show up every day to carry out that most valuable of writing lessons: perspiration trumps inspiration. The problem is that my brain is so fried that it feels like a wet noodle (see, I’m using clichés… and mixed metaphors at the same time).

I have high reverence for the powers of self-discipline, but self-discipline can divide the self into “good” parts and “bad” parts. We’re often told that if we don’t conquer the “bad” parts—our emotions, our daydreams, our aimless wanderings—we can’t truly progress. Self discipline gives us control of our lives and fluffs up the throne of living a “rational life”, but there is more to life than rationality and control, isn’t there?

I’ve decided to take a moment to leave my boot camp and go to a different side of Camp NaNoWriMo: the rollicking garden party, where I can revel with my inner clown, give a big hug to every wacky thought that comes my way, and put some proverbial flowers in my hair.

Do you remember when you were a child and rolled down a hill just for the sake of getting dizzy? How often do you do that now? I never do it, but yesterday when I was in the park with my daughter, she challenged me to a spin-off, and we both twirled around until one of us lost our balance and fell. I lost, but I discovered that if I allowed my body to move in such a silly way, I actually thought differently afterward. My linear, problem-solution mindset wobbled all about, which was exactly what my writing project needed—not perspiration, but a fanciful twirl or two.

“If you are writing without zest, without gusto, without love, without fun, you are only half a writer,” said Ray Bradbury.

Take that, inner drill sergeant. I want the next 11 days to be merrier, not drudgier (which sometimes means using words that don’t exist). I want to gambol through my novel, not grind.

I invite you to join me in at least a moment of play before pushing forward again. Build a fairy village out of sticks, pebbles, and leaves. Trade Mad Libs with your cabin mates. Play any way you can.

And then skip back to your keyboard—and write with diligence, perseverance, and gusto toward the finish line!

Spinning (just for a while),

Grant Faulkner

As a boy, Grant spent his allowance on all sorts of pens and paper, so there was never much question that he would become a writer. He’s also the founder of the lit journal 100 Word Story. He believes quite simply that everyone is a writer—that we create our world through the stories we tell—so he enthusiastically prods everyone he meets to write a novel and discover how life can be transformed through a daring creative act.