Mindset, motivation and inspiration for novelists—with a dash of instruction about writing craft added in. Subscribe (free or paid) to get the fuel you need for your writing career.
Earlier this week during a writing session, I was grinding out the words. Brows clenched, nose wrinkled, shoulders tensed and hunched over the computer, I paused and pondered every word that I was attempting to put on the page. There weren’t many. Most of them were locked up inside me, as I struggled to make every sentence perfect; every scene sparkling.
And then it hit me. What the hell was I doing?
I’d forgotten one of the most foundational tenets of my writing life: write badly.
I’ve published three novels, free-lanced articles, wrote a blog for over ten years, written work-for-hire non-fiction books, currently write two Substacks, and I still need to remind myself of this:
In order to make any progress on my drafts, I need to allow myself to write crap.
So I thought you might need a reminder, too.
I love what novelist Jennifer Egan has to say about it:
“You can only write regularly if you’re willing to write badly. You can’t write regularly and well. One should accept bad writing as a way of priming the pump, a warm-up exercise that allows you to write well.”
(FYI I found that quote on Garrison Keillor's Writer’s Almanac this morning and it’s fitting because today is Egan’s birthday.)
But, I hear you saying, even you very experienced writers (or maybe especially you very experienced writers), but I can’t allow myself to write crap because I’m on deadline. Or because I’m going to submit it to an agent. Or because I just can’t not be perfect.
You, like me, may believe in the concept of writing badly, and yet find yourself not actually practicing it. Because of the reasons listed above, but also because once you start writing regularly, odds are good your writing is also going out into the world in some form. That could be publication (yay) or even submitting to a critique group or a writing coach. And once that happens, it is dreadfully easy to start focusing on what readers are going to think. Out the window goes the writing badly process and in on the breeze comes the perfection tendency. And that way madness lies. And also writer’s block.
So herewith are some reminders.
Let us remember that writing badly is a means to an end. Not an endpoint. We write badly when we’re writing a first draft, a discover draft, a (ugh) vomit draft. We write badly so that we can begin to understand what we want to write, the shape of the story. Even for plotters who like to know every detail a lot before they start drafting, writing badly is key.
To quote another writer you may have heard of, Jodi Picoult:
“You might not write well every day, but you can always edit a bad page. You can't edit a blank page.”
And writing badly is not about forcing yourself to write crap. Rather, it’s about allowing yourself to write without judgement, to write without stopping every few minutes to review and revise and perfect. Writing badly is the opposite of writing to achieve perfection. There’s a time for that, but it’s in the future, after you’ve finished this draft.
Writing badly allows you to write in a natural way, and letting go and letting the words flow like this is the quickest path I know to finding your voice. When you’re writing badly, you’re allowing your fingers a direct line to your subconscious, that part of the brain that holds the rich storehouse of memories, images, buried thoughts and ideas.
If you’re struggling with letting go and letting the words flow, here are some things that might help.
Close your eyes. Nah, that’s a bit much and too hard to keep going. But you can dim your monitor.
Write by hand. I love doing this and tend to go on jags of writing by hand and swearing allegiance to it forever. Like so many things in my life, it doesn’t last. But there’s always an element of hand writing in my process, even if it is just note taking. I find it incredibly freeing. Many writers, like Susan Wiggs and Danielle Trussoni, write their entire first drafts by hand.
Use Freedom, the app and website blocker. I find that when I’m in perfection mode, I’m way more easily distracted than when I’m writing badly. With Freedom, you can choose how long you want to disable internet access and write blissfully distraction free.
Try Write or Die. As the name implies, it’s a nuclear option. The website (or app) does fun things like blast horrible noises at you if your quit writing, or in the kamikaze option, actually start deleting your words.
Dabble has a lot of fiction writing options (sort of like Scrivener light) but one of its best feature is a distraction-free screen. Once you start writing, all that appears on the screen is the file itself, no tables or tool bars or anything. It’s pretty great.
Finally, I leave you with one more quote, from Joan Didion.
“I write entirely to find out what I’m thinking, what I’m looking at, what I see and what it means. What I want and what I fear.”
That kind of discovery does not happen when one is laboring over every word, straining for perfection. At least not in my world.
I’d love to hear what you think about writing badly. Are you a practitioner of the process? Or do you have a different way of approaching drafts?
Paid subscriptions
I’m planning my first workshop for paid subscribers. It will be sometime in September after everyone has gotten back into their routines and the topic is going to be, wait for it: Plotting for Pantsers and Pantsing for Plotters. Several of my clients requested this and I cannot wait to dig in. When it comes to plotting and pantsing, most will convince you that never the twain shall meet. But I think each camp has much to offer the other and that often a middle road is the best. I’ll explain all in the workshop!
When you subscribe at the $8 a month level, you’ll get access to this class and others I’ll offer monthly going forward. Founding members get a one-on-one coaching session upon sign-up!
Also, I can help you with your writing and anything related to writing and getting words on the page. This could take the form of ongoing book coaching, or a manuscript evaluation. If you’re interested, drop a comment. Or reply to this post if it comes into your inbox.