How to Write a Novel In a Month

The fear that I might never write a book led me to develop a practical system of writing by numbers.

Yesterday, I finished the first draft of my fifth novel. It was the second time I’d written a first draft in a month: 1500 words per day for thirty days, resulting in a 45,000-word draft. Of course, I don’t expect the finished draft to be ready for publication on the thirtieth day. Nor do I think that this method will work for everyone. But for me, approaching the emptiness of a new project, I remind myself that all I have to do is reach my word count today, and again tomorrow, and again the day after, until the month is over and I have a draft.

This simplification allows me to charge forward despite my understanding that writing a novel can be messy, frustrating, and seemingly impossible. All I have to do is write. It surprises me when people tell me they have trouble writing—not that they have trouble writing well, but trouble writing at all. To me, writing well is so daunting a challenge that I think of it only in small and scheduled doses, once a draft is complete enough that I’m no longer afraid it will fall apart in my hands. Writing itself, however, I can pare down to a series of numbers.

The first time I decided to write a novel, I looked up the minimum word count a manuscript needs to reach in order to be considered a “novel.” There is no official number, but the general consensus seems to be 40,000 (and that would be a very short novel). It was motivating to realize that all I had to do was come up with 40,000 words. Once I had the words, I felt I would be able to take a step back and see what needed to be done to the draft. So much can be done with a bad draft, but it’s hard for me to visualize any sort of future for an empty document.

Working toward my first 40,000 words was also my first experience working with daily minimums and tracking my progress. Prior to that first experiment, I struggled with feelings of guilt and hopelessness. I felt as though I was constantly waiting for my “writing life” to begin. I’d write a short story every so often, or the first few pages or an outline of a novel, but I never knew where I was going. Living inside the fear that I might never write a book is what led me to developing some sort of practical system.

I’ve never worked well with time. If I don’t have significantly more of it than I need, I can rarely work at all. But when I write by numbers, I can see the project working its way to completion. There is a concrete feeling of progress at the end of each day. I love to finish my daily words and scroll through my document, feeling how it’s grown.

When I write by numbers, I can see the project working its way to completion.

Completing my first novel changed my view of myself as a writer. The question was no longer whether I would ever write a book—something I asked myself constantly, with agony, from the age of six or seven—but rather what sorts of books I would write. I knew that I had discovered a formula that would bring me to the end every time, meaning I was free to consider with curiosity what might happen along the way.

I recommend the method if you’re trying to start a new project. To begin, all you need is an idea. It can be very loose and it will most likely change—through the process, you’ll discover more and more of that idea each day. I like to begin with a working title and a paragraph-long synopsis; what you might find on the front and back covers of the published book. If you’d like, you can create an outline. I do this alongside my writing in the first few days of the month and edit it along the way, but I don’t log those words as part of my daily total.

I also recommend telling people. The first time I wrote a novel in a month, I sometimes felt guilty for canceling plans or hunching over my laptop while visiting family. But this time, my husband André Babyn and our friend Zak Jones undertook the exercise at the same time. We had a group chat where we’d check in when we finished our 1500 words for the day and celebrate milestones together.

Below is the method, the way I’ve used it.

The Basics:

1. 1500 words per day, every day, for one month

There is no time limit, no obligation to write at the same time each day, and writing can be done all at once or broken up into multiple sessions. I must reach 1500 words between 12:01 a.m. and 11:59 p.m. I chose August this year, which meant thirty-one days of writing. February, however, is always an option.

2. Do whatever it takes to get the work done

At the end of this past month, André and I moved from Toronto to Fredericton. The majority of my writing days happened in the midst of packing up our apartment and the final two days took place on the road during his driving shifts. There is never a right time to write, and sometimes it has to happen at the wrong time.

3. Do not edit

I try not to distract myself with the work that’s already been done. The editing will happen at the next stage. I’m a purist about this process and I have a “no notes” and “no summarizing scenes” policy in my document. If I want to remember something for later, I make a note of it on paper and save it for when I edit. Otherwise, I write the whole draft from beginning to end.

There are a few reasons this method works so well for me. For one thing, it gets me working. When I’m thinking about starting a new project, I often find myself thinking long-term. I’ll think about what I might write next year or after I quit my job, and so on—which delays the time I’ll start, if I ever do. With this method, I have to choose a calendar month and commit to it.

Writing a novel in thirty days is, in many ways, simple. That doesn’t mean it’s an easy or perfect process. In the span of any month, there are going to be some busy days, or emotional days. Life is unpredictable and we have jobs and partners and friends and we have to sweep the kitchen floor and walk the dog and figure out what kind of jeans everyone is wearing now. Writing itself is hard. It’s hard to believe in our own ideas and it’s hard to even have ideas. Sometimes the most daunting part of writing is the looming fear that we might be no good at all, that all of this work is for nothing.

Writing a novel in thirty days is, in many ways, simple. That doesn’t mean it’s an easy or perfect process.

But it’s never for nothing. Writing a novel is a humbling and beautiful thing to do. You are making time to write and committing to yourself and your practice. It’s okay to have a bad writing day, or to wonder if the project is what you even want to be working on. Repetition and routine are draining, and not every day is going to feel good. You only have to sit with it for thirty days and then you can even throw it out if you want to.

When a first draft is finished is the point when I feel most excited about a project. There’s no more anxiety about what might happen, or about whether or not I’ll get to the end. The idea feels solid in my mind and I’ve gotten a sense of its shape. For me, facing a first draft and beginning the editing process is the clearest and most straightforward part of writing. Of course, edits are complicated, and a first draft can be very far from a last one. There’s something about an ending, however, that allows me to finally take a breath and prepare to dive back in again. A draft is full of places to go, with partly-furnished rooms and blurry characters who need to be brought into focus.

Having completed this exercise twice, I will close with a piece of advice that has guided me through both times: do not pass the baby around the room. Earlier I recommended talking to people about this exercise, which I do, but there is a difference between talking about the exercise and talking about your project. Just as you would not pass a newborn child around a party, be gentle with your idea-in-progress. Some things need time to strengthen and fill out before they are ready to be shared.