In Praise of Sh*tty First Drafts
“Almost all good writing begins with terrible first efforts.” —Anne Lamott
If you’ve ever taken a writing class, you’ve probably read Lamott’s “Shitty First Drafts,” from her book Bird by Bird. If you haven’t come across it yet, the gist is that terrible first drafts are absolutely nothing to be ashamed of; in fact, they’re a necessary part of the writing process, because it is through them that you “end up with good second drafts and terrific third drafts.” (Or decent second drafts, slightly better third drafts, competent fourth drafts, good fifth drafts, etc.; I don’t know any writers who stop at draft #3.)
Self-criticism, unfortunately, also feels like a necessary part of the writing process (I mean, it’s really not, and yet…), but Lamott reminds us that it makes no sense to worry about how bad your story is when you’ve only just begun it. It’s be like being pissed that your cookies don’t taste good when all you’ve done is dump the ingredients into a bowl. What you’re tasting isn’t a Tollhouse; it’s raw flour. Which is actually slightly dangerous.
“You need to start somewhere,” Lamott says. “Start by getting something—anything— down on paper. A friend of mine says that the first draft is the down draft—you just get it down. The second draft is the up draft—you fix it up. You try to say what you have to say more accurately. And the third draft is the dental draft, where you check every tooth, to see if it’s loose or cramped or decayed, or even, God help us, healthy.”
Again, third draft? We should all be so lucky. But anyway, as I work on this new book, I’ve noticed other benefits of allowing myself (expecting myself) to write a shitty first draft. One feels pretty common sense; the other feels a little more magical.
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