Changing How We Look At First Drafts

A snippet from 'The First Draft Handbook'. I hope this is helpful as you start writing!

First drafts are really hard.

If you’ve ever had to write something (a novel or otherwise) you probably know the deer-in-headlights feeling of staring at a blank page. Sure, you knew you were the one who inevitably had to write the thing, but where the heck do you start?

You’ve read books before, and great ones. How do writers make words on a page feel so tangible? You could touch that prickly grass they described, feel your chest tighten for characters struggling on the first day of school because, hey, you had a similar experience.

But it’s one thing to read a book and another to write one. You have scenes playing on repeat in your brain, but how do you pull them out and put them into the right words? And what if you try your very best, you pour everything you have into writing this story, fill notebooks with research and notes, you sit down for hours and hours to write it. And then, after all of that, what if you have the evil thought that, what if, your book sucks?

Before we spiral, I’m going to cancel that thought right now and give you a  truth instead: most writers have the same fear. So, know you’re not alone in that.

I’m going to give you another truth. This one is better. Are you ready?

Your drafts don't need to be perfect.

In fact, your first draft will not be perfect. And that’s good.

Now that we’ve got that fact in our brains, let’s use our writers' imaginations to picture a sandbox (mine is made of wood, it’s square-shaped, and red. I’ve always pictured them red). You can rap your knuckles on the bottom of it. Just an empty box.

But if we’re going to build a castle, we’re going to need to throw some sand into it. You scoop up shovelfuls and carry them from point A to point B, multiple times, maybe for hours (depending on how large you imagined your sandbox). Once you’ve filled up the box, you wipe your brow and stare down in accomplishment at…a big pile of sand. 

That’s cool and all, but you need a sandcastle. You went through all that backbreaking work, and for what?

As we know, it’s a little silly to expect a sandcastle to appear when you haven’t shaped the sand into your desired structure. And thus, we have this introduction’s metaphor:

 

“I’m writing a first draft and reminding myself that I’m simply shoveling sand into a box, so that later, I can build castles.” 

— Shannon Hale

Every literary masterpiece began as a humble first draft. Anything published–from blog posts to literary novels–began as a mess of notes, drawings, voice memos, and scribbles galore. Any book you've ever read was edited (shoveled, built, shaped, carved) upwards of six times before it hit the shelves, maybe more.

So realistically, it doesn’t make sense to look down on your first draft when every book in existence began in the same place.

I know you might be feeling anxious because your book isn't instantly amazing, or you're comparing yourself to those polished authors you see on bestseller lists. But their sandcastles started with a sandbox as empty as yours. If that’s the case, logically, you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.

And yes, it takes a long time to be “good” at something. Most authors learn and practice and write for years—five, ten, twenty, fifty. It will take time. All art does. Your job right now isn't to be brilliant, it's to be brave enough to put words on the page.

So start now. What's the rush?*