There are advantages to getting that first draft onto the page quickly, however messily, without your inner editor casting judgement. Only this morning, I heard the term “vomit draft” in the context of vomiting being a good thing, a positive step in the direction of a finished draft.
I’m not disputing this method. The process of writing is highly personal and never wrong. On the face of it, why not get everything on the page and begin revising at once? However, for those writing novels, which is the only area of writing in which I claim some expertise, I’d like to offer a different approach, what amounts to an alternative writing lifestyle, that of writing slow.
We imagine that writing a novel is difficult due to the challenges of its length, the gathering up of all that fabric into a complete whole. We worry that we’ll get lost in the reams of slippery material, unable to find its edges or shape it into anything worth the tremendous effort it takes to complete the work end-to-end.
But you don’t need to feel worried. You don’t need to get through the first draft as though you are running through a graveyard at night1. Have faith in the story, that it is worthy, and that the core of it will be found. Have faith in yourself, that you’ll finish the novel. Turn off the clock. My editor of many years, Nan Talese, once reassured me that no novel was ever criticised for being late. I hope I can reassure you, that nothing about this process has to be rushed.
Never think about the market, the agent, the editor, or even the reader until later, but do think about who you are writing about, the characters in front of you and the story you are telling, deeply and with all the time it takes, as you’re writing. I’ve talked before about getting to know your characters and even gossiping about them, but think about the story from every angle, too. As @Michael Estrin says in the article mentioning the vomiting, “you can only plan so much before you start your writing because the process of writing will cause you to change your plans.”
How interesting those plans become depends largely on your willingness to dig as deep as you need to find the gold in your work. If you wait until the entire novel has been through a draft, you will not know the story as it might have been, with all the depth and fullness it would have had. Even if you succeed in finishing it, you’ll miss out on the far better novel it could be.
I let the work wash over me as I write it. I give the story time to settle sentence by sentence. Otherwise, I miss out on the feeling of having been connected to something greater than myself. Maybe science can explain it, a dopamine hit, a neurotransmission, but I know it like a gift floating in the air when I am writing well.
I don’t want to sacrifice this gift in an effort to get the work fast onto the page. I know I’ll revise later but I’ll be sculpting onto something far more beautiful, which means I’ll return willingly to the work tomorrow, and always. My ambition is great. As Marie Howe’s poem voice confesses, “I want to tell you everything I know about being alive…” 2
Gardner, J.C. (1991) The art of fiction: Notes on craft for young writers. New York: Vintage.
Howe, M. (2008) The Kingdom of Ordinary Time. New York: W.W. Norton & Co.
Hi Marti
I agree with you. I usually throw up the draft on impulse, almost as an emergency. Then I let it sit for two or three days without looking at it. That way I feel I create a distance for my text.
It's only after this time that I return to the text with a more critical eye.
I call my creative process "birth writing"
I can type at around 100 WPM. I find this good for non-fiction, but when I'm writing fiction I instead use a fountain pen and paper. This slows me down and makes me think about each and every line more carefully. I found that the more time a line is in my mind, the better it comes out.
I'm a young writer though, so I might be wrong.