Correction: I wrote the first draft of a book in November.
Okay, it wasn't a "book" exactly. More like 65,000 words molded into a book-like shape. Characters. Scenes. Pieces and chunks of scenes. A possible beginning. A foggy middle. A glimmer of an ending.
This is a typical first draft for me, my way of exploring a couple of ideas and watching, waiting for those seemingly unrelated strands to come together, wondering the whole while if they WILL come together and then marveling when they inevitably do. It's the bizarre and magical aspect of writing a story and I don't even pretend to understand how it works.
What I do know is that if I go In each day, write my words, trust the process, follow the characters and the story strands-- something will eventually spark and catch fire, and if I keep going with it, if I keep showing up on the page, pushing, while at the same time letting go and not pushing at all--
I will find myself at the end of the process with this Thing that I did not have at the beginning,
a first draft.
By definition it is a mess.
Anne Lamott in Bird by Bird calls them "shitty first drafts" and the first time I read that I loved Anne Lamott. The first draft, she says, shitty as it may be, is perfect, because it is finished. Because you made it to the end of it and now you have something to work with, something to revise.
Which is where I am now, at the beginning of the Take Two leg of this novel-writing marathon.
I'm okay with that. Even a little excited. I have methods that have worked for me in the past. Strategies.
*Put the first draft away for a while.
*Print it off in a different font from the font that you wrote it in.
*Read it. Which is always a challenge. It's hard to face this thing you wrote-- see the actual words written on the page vs the beautiful complex amazing brilliant story you had floating around in your head, and then come to grips with all of the work you're going to have to do to get the draft on the page closer to what you envision.
I take notes as I read. I write questions to myself. I make a list:
What I have/What I need
So far my list sounds like this:
What I have: characters, a voice, a back story
What I need: a plot
A few months ago I was at a party and an aspiring writer asked my opinion about revision. "I bet you don't revise as much anymore," she said, "now that you're more experienced."
I shook my head. "No," I said. "I revise even more now."
She looked at me quizzically. I could tell she didn't quite believe me. Some beginning writers assume that it gets easier. (Spoiler alert: It doesn't.)
I can't remember where I read this, but a student asks a teacher:
Do good writers revise?
And the teacher answers: Only good writers revise.
Every writer has their secrets.
Lately, I've been thinking of revision as a kind of puzzle. I empty the pieces onto the table. I turn them over and study them. I group them by color, by shape. I click together the obvious ones, assemble the larger chunks, maybe stop every now and then to string the border, identify the corners, trying not to get overwhelmed by the pieces that don't seem to fit, all of those empty spaces that will have to be filled in eventually.
And then there's nothing to do but start writing.