A Field Guide to Navigating NaNoWriMo

For most people, November means football, family gatherings, and the first bite of winter. For writers tackling National Novel Writing Month, it means 30 days, 50,000 words, and beating the blank page.

NaNoWriMo bills itself as “a fun, seat-of-your-pants approach to creative writing.” In reality, it means “stop talking about writing and start actually writing.” The math is simple but scary. 1,667 words a day. That’s what it takes to reach a 50,000-word count in one month. It looks like a mountain, but after eleven separate attempts and eight wins, I can tell you it’s a climb worth making. 

To help you with your own attempt at drafting a novel in one month, I’ve collected the strategies I used to get me across the finish line.

Some quick math says 1,667 words a day gets you to 50,000 on the final day. Perfect on paper. But in real life? You’ll be lucky if something doesn’t derail your plan at least once in 30 days. So build in a buffer. Pick a daily target and post it where you can see it. Hit that number every day. Don’t kid yourself that you’ll make it up tomorrow. You won’t. And whenever you can, write past it. Buffers save novels.

Pro tip: words don’t spoil. Stockpile them like canned beans.

Know where you’re headed before November 1 rolls around. A few notes or a loose outline will keep you from stalling out on day three. Think of it like a road trip: you don’t need to know every rest stop, but you should at least know which direction you’re driving. Leave room for detours, wrong turns, and happy accidents. Sometimes the best scenes are the ones you didn’t see coming.

(Update: I used to come to the end of October with nothing but a vague idea and a bucket of Halloween candy. Now I build outlines, character sheets, maps, and a story bible before I start. Prep as little or as much as you need. The only wrong way is the one that keeps you from writing.)

Resist the urge to map every tavern in your fantasy kingdom.

Writing for this marathon is really writing for sprint, after sprint, after sprint. And that is a grueling pace. Build some rest days into your plan. Personally, I take Sundays off. But do whatever works for your schedule. 

On those rest days, try taking a walk, reading something unrelated, or just staring out a window and letting your brain idle. The words will still be there tomorrow, and you’ll be better prepared to tackle them.

Think of it as giving your characters a nap.

Don’t end your session at the end of a thought. Quit mid-stream, mid-thought, mid-line if you have to. Tomorrow, you’ll thank yourself for leaving a breadcrumb trail.

Cliffhangers aren’t just for readers; they work on writers, too.

Halfway through you might realize Dave works better as a cousin than an ex. Great, make the switch and keep typing. November is for words, December is for edits. Just remember: your draft is a sandbox, not a cathedral.

To keep the sandbox from swallowing you whole, start a simple story bible. Every time you add a character, location, or quirky cat name, jot it down. It’ll save you from the momentum-killing “what did I call that guy again?” search and give Future You a handy reference when it’s time to revise. 

Because nothing kills momentum like scrolling through 30,000 words hunting for “that one guy.”

Tell someone you’re doing NaNo. Accountability matters. Even a mildly curious friend can stop you from bailing when the words get tough. Post your progress, join a writing group, or make a pact with another writer. It doesn’t matter if they cheer, nag, or just raise an eyebrow every time you mention “falling behind.” The point is, you’re not alone in the trenches—and knowing someone’s watching makes you far less likely to abandon ship.

Bonus: bragging rights sound better when someone else is doing it for you.

NaNoWriMo isn’t about producing the next Great American Novel. It’s about proving you can finish a novel at all. Lower the stakes, raise the output. Forget the muse, forget perfection, forget that imaginary critic perched on your shoulder. The only goal is to get words down, even if they’re clumsy, cliché, or riddled with plot holes big enough to drive a truck through. You can polish later. November is about momentum, not masterpieces.

Bad prose is still better than a blank page.

All those Novembers taught me this: NaNoWriMo isn’t about genius, it’s about grit. You don’t need perfect sentences, a flawless outline, or divine inspiration. You need to sit down, day after day, and stack the words until you hit 50,000. Victory comes in proving you can do it at all.

So, pour the coffee, silence the excuses, and open that document. Your pirate-romance-mystery-political-thriller-comedy novel won’t exist until you write it.