writerjenn

In between posting about National Poetry Month and Chuck-shaped Cheetos, and taking care of actual business during this incredibly long week, I've been writing.  It's a first draft, a meandering mess, full of brackets and notes to myself and other flotsam and jetsam. I like the narrator's voice. I suspect that's what is carrying me through. I have an idea where the story is going and where the characters need to end up, but they're still surprising me. They keep saying and doing things I didn't expect, and revealing motives I didn't know about.  I'm just letting them run, to see where they take me.  If you see them dragging me off in a cloud of dust for parts unknown, don't worry.  I'll be back, brushing the dirt off my shoes and pulling the briers out of my hair.

First drafts are weird.  For me, anyway.

There's something that raises the hair on the back of my neck, something that fills my mind and demands to be written down.  That's the spark that ignites a first draft.  The first-draft impulse is the closest thing to a movie-stereotype image of The Writer that I experience: divine inspiration, frantic typing.  Never mind that only a small percentage of my writing life is spent on first drafts, and the other 90+% is spent revising, revising, revising.

That first-draft spark has to be strong, because writing takes energy.  Sometimes the spark lasts all the way through draft after draft; sometimes it sputters out after a couple of drafts or even a couple of paragraphs.  "I thought I wanted to write about this, but . . . I guess not."

Sometimes the spark tries on one form, doesn't like it, and shows up later in another form.  (It's not a novel, but maybe it's a short story!  It doesn't work from the sister's point of view . . . what about the brother's?)

First drafts suck up much more concentration than subsequent drafts.  Maybe that's because the story is still forming, and I have to carry it in my head until I can get it all down.  When I'm writing a first draft, I don't want to do much else.  I'm in love with the story, I'm anxious about it, I can't wait to find out what happens next.

First drafts don't tolerate much discussion about their subject matter.  I can talk at length about the plot, setting, characters, and themes in my later-draft WIPs, but I can't say much about the content, the actual story or characters, in a first draft before it's finished.  It seems to drain off some vital juices.

What is the first draft like for you?

I could say I wrote a short story today, but the reality is that I wrote a first draft of a short story.  I can usually get a story's first draft down in one sitting, and I prefer to do it that way, although sometimes it stretches over two or three sittings.  (A novel, obviously, takes much longer.)

The goal of the first draft is just to get it down.  If I'm stumbling over a word, I just throw in the best approximation I can think of, put brackets around it, and keep going.  Like so:

Her cheeks were [red as a rose] in the [sharp] December air . . . 

(No, this is not an actual line from my story, it's a hypothetical example.)  I've bracketed "red as a rose" because it's a cliche, but I know her cheeks were red.  Later I can think about how to say this better.  I should also try to get rid of "were," so maybe this would become, "Her cheeks reddened . . . "  But I don't have to worry about that until revision time.

Now to "sharp."  Maybe okay, but maybe I want a different adjective, or maybe no adjective.  Those are ponderings for revision, not the first draft.  Right now all I know is that I have doubts about "sharp," so it goes in brackets.

Of course, when I revise, I don't look at only the bracketed stuff.  I look at everything; plot, character, theme, rhythm, tone, etc.  The brackets just mark the stumbles that might otherwise keep me from plunging ahead with the first draft.

Now the draft sits.  That is its job: to sit and wait until I can edit it with clear eyes.  Right now, I cannot possibly tell if it's a good story or not.  Everything seems good in the heat of the first draft.  The draft's sitting time may be days, weeks, or months.  I may get excited about some other project and let this one wait for a long time.  Or I may start polishing in a few days. 

But the first draft is just about getting it down.  Taking that picture before the sunset changes.  Recording that thought before it evaporates.  It doesn't have to be good yet; it just has to be.

 Last night I was writing a first draft, and not having a very good time of it.  The story was wandering all over the place, and I wrote two scenes only to think I may end up cutting them.  What was wrong? I wondered.  Then I remembered: Oh, yeah, this is what a first draft is.  Contrary to what non-writers may think, stories do not flow glibly from our fingertips.  The first draft shoots, stumbles, spurts, meanders, stops dead in its tracks, doubles back on itself, does a somersault, and altogether forms a giant mess that will be hacked and polished into readable shape someday.

It's been a while since I did a first draft, since most of my work in recent months has consisted of polishing older work or jotting down ideas for future projects.  So here I am again, embarking on the gritty, wild, let's-step-into-the-unknown-without-a-map (or with a map that we will soon throw away) voyage that is a first draft!  

At the same time, I am also continuing to polish an umpteenth draft of another work.  The new work will keep me from getting bored, and the revision project will keep me from going crazy.  (Probably.)