MY BEST FRIEND taught me a writing phrase that I use every day. We’ve been friends now for, oh, thirty years. Since we were already hard-working writers when we met, and I use the phrase every day, that means I’ve employed it somewhere in the neighborhood of ten thousand times. And you know what? Every time I do, it gives me the ooomph I need to keep typing.
My best friend is Gary Taubes, hands-down best science writer on the planet, and creator of memorable ways to describe what we do for a living. He calls the first pass through, or first draft, the vomit draft—and for good reason, since there is no such thing as a good first draft. In her marvelous book Bird by Bird, Anne Lamott calls the same thing the “shitty first draft,” and I love that, but Gary’s term reminds us that real creativity includes both physical pain as well as a soundtrack. Retching and moaning. Writing may require both.
The biggest shock of writing is that it’s difficult. Why? As St. Teresa of Avila famously said, it’s because “more tears are shed over answered prayers than unanswered ones.” Done with purpose, writing is hard work. When you practiced with prompts, something always flowed, though all of it remains in some notebook. Much like playing tennis with a pro who hits every shot right to you, those exercises convinced you that you had this writing thing nailed. When you’re alone in a room trying to write with intent, it’s mind-slammingly hard. Though not impossible.
And right after my students experience the difficulty, perhaps the next most shocking piece of information they receive is that NPR saw draft number 45 of my Spam Chop Suey essay. And then I tell them that it was the third total rewrite of my book about red hair that got the check from my publisher. And always they dismiss it; I now recognize a default look on the faces, that precise gauzy gaze they get when, instead of listening, they revert to planning their Oprah wardrobe, thinking that this rewrite/edit thing happens to everyone but them.
Enjoy the thought. And then have a look at that vomit draft of yours.
And please don’t tell me your husband liked it. Of course your wife liked it. Do you think that someone who depends on you for food, sex, and shelter is going to say something else to you? That they liked it means nothing. It’s a mess, it’s supposed to be a mess, and if it’s not a mess, then you don’t yet have what you need, so chuck up another one, and let’s see what we’ve got.
It’s called the vomit draft, too, because it will both stink and be pretty much everything you’ve got inside you. In there is beauty and success and everything you ever dreamed of. So learn to love a vomit draft like it’s your new best gal.
See a typo, a grammar flub, my (ever-present) overuse of commas? Point it out, and I’ll throw you in the pool for a monthly free book giveaway. Which book? One of mine – your choice – all of which were professionally copy edited, thank goodness.
Oh how accurate. Gave me a chuckle and helped me breathe a sigh of relief. Reminds me of that time I puked up a chocolate bar over and over for about 3 hours. I hate vomiting but it didn’t keep me from loving chocolate. Thanks for putting the whole stinky process into a laughable perspective.
Dorci
I love it when you say, “please don’t tell me your husband liked it” because my husband read my first draft and said, “it’s not your best” or “it’s just not you” (or something to that effect) Crushed, yet knowing full well my draft did blow, I tried again. And again. I’m on my 5th draft. :) Great, great article!
It’s always reassuring to read things like this, because I will often look back at something I’ve written and think “Wait… aren’t I supposed to be *good* at writing?!” Because whatever I’ve just written clearly doesn’t testify to that fact. It’s all about refining! We’re amazed to see blocks of stone transformed into magnificent statues at the hands of a sculptor, but I’m pretty sure there have to be some pretty awkward stages along the way, and moments where you’d look at it and have no idea what it was supposed to be. We writers need to learn to give ourselves the same liberty of process as all other artists receive.
That is a riot-
Not exactly the word picture I want to spend a lot of time dwelling on. But oh, so true. Unlike the real vomit mess, I actually enjoy cleaning up the writerly-vomit. It helps having a computer with well-oiled backspace and delete buttons. Great post!
Hi, all:
So glad you have something to say about the vomit draft.
Dorci: I’m glad it made you laugh.
Elizabeth: Been there. That’s how I know. My husband is a newspaper editor. Sigh.
Lauren: You are absolutely right. It’s about chipping away. Great image.
Lynn: I’m delighted by the word “riot.” Thank you.
Grace: “Writerly-vomit.” Much more distinguished when you add the “writerly,” yes?
PLease come back soon for more, writers.
In my daily writing very recently, even before reading this, I noticed that chopping the “v” changes it to “omit” which sounds better already. By chopping the “o” next, perhaps we could enter it into the Primary next.
Fabulous.
Thank you.
Great post! I’ve always heard the term Shitty First Draft, complete with implied capital letters, but I think I like your phrase better! (It’s funny about the spouse thing. My wife, an accomplished writer herself, is my first, best, and harshest critic. If she likes something I wrote, it probably *is* good. But your point is well-taken just the same. *g* )
Hi, Joe. Welcome to the site. I’m delighted you like it. It has worked for me for all these years. I’m glad to share it. Use it with my blessings to write well.
hmm – don’t agree. 1st draft is the only one that counts, that makes you a writer, that gets the baby out of the womb. Doesn’t matter how much you redo it, it couldn’t be redone if there hadn’t been something to redo.
Hi, Grace. Of course it counts. It’s just not good enough to leave as is. Never. I think we agree. Please come back for more.
Where does anyone come up with the 1st draft is the only one that counts.. do you know many re-writes R done for movie scripts, Bshows and all else.. Sermons too! LOL!
Everyone has a different way of handling how they approach writing, drawing, illustrating, etc..there is no right way to do it.. we R after all individuals with different creative potentials…
At the pre-writing stage, collecting has its value, as propounded by A.R. Ammons (we graduated the same college) from Wake Forest …. and on up through the spheres of diminishing air past the … to bear on a willow-slip and you cannot unwind a pebble from its constellations … unbundled them from the piles of rags and … [ a cairn and a cairngorm ]
more … STEPHEN YENSER
120
arithmetic,
checkers tactics
taught her grandson
2
hoarded guilts
make bright quilts
counterpanes
121
still waters
of words heap
up a cairn
_2_
seed in fruit
olive seed
in the stones
122
sun reigns
rain shines
sometimes
2
her prom dress
bowl double
peonies
3
street light
and moth
married
123
reducing
thought to a
bouillon cube
JOSH WILD
124
see what you
want: look in-
to any
2
something with
broken heel
make my point
Which is a big reason people think blogs are so terrible. By definition, most blog posts are first drafts. I’ve got one that I’m semi-serious with (no, won’t link to it here, not about the self-promotion right now) and to keep it interesting requires that I post more often than once a week and about more than my narrow personal issues. But it takes me forever to write just one post. There’s always one more thing I have to fix, one more antecedent I have to untangle and put back in its proper place, one more angle I have to pursue, whatever. Then, of course, I’m not really *working*–I’m staring at a hunk of plastic and tapping a bunch of smaller pieces of plastic, so people feel free to interrupt me left and right. *headdesk* Yay!
But if I didn’t love doing it I’d have quit long ago. Sigh.
Since opening up my chakras crazy things have been happening. And that would be the intersection of you and Gary Taubes. Such synchronicity for me! I’ve been following Gary since discovering his books via a tiny blurb in Discover magazine toward the end of 2010. A totally skeptical 47 year old marathon runner converted her diet from bagels and jelly to bacon and eggs. Never felt better! And now, with Gary’s (finally!) latest post, I have happily found you. The cool thing? I have just begun blogging, and writing after starting and stopping and trying and not for the past 20 years. So – I just wanted to say thanks for giving me the license to vomit all over the place – if feels awesome!
Hi, Anne: Welcome. Ah, the Gary/Marion nexus. Too funny. And so healthy. Yes, his food suggestions got me out of chronic pain, lowered my cholesterol, and help me keep off the weight. Me, I hope I keep you writing. Please stay in touch.
Is it really necessary to use obscene, disgusting images to get one’s point across? Surely an alive imagination can come up with some less frightful and more compelling metaphor for a first draft. I like to think of the first draft as a sketch, with the full image emerging as lines in the sketch are strengthened or, if necessary, erased and better ones added. Adding color and shading makes the sketch a completed work.
“See a typo, a grammar flub, my (ever-present) overuse of commas? Point it out, and I’ll throw you in the pool for a monthly free book giveaway.”
OK, the title of this essay, “Writing Memoir: The First Draft. Wretching and Moaning All the Way.” Further down in the post, you correctly spelled “retching”. I do not see how “wretching” in the title could have been intentional.
BTW I did not find your use of commas at all inappropriate. And believe me, I do notice when they’re abused or (commonly) underused.
guess I better have my swim trunks (throw you in the pool for …)