On Periscope today, Sonya Philip talked about mistakes and failures being problems to be solved and that they are not personal failings. (Of course, we’re talking about creativity here. If you critique poor old Aunt Helga’s fishnets in her hearing, that might be a mistake of gossip-location-choosing and maybe a failure to be compassionate. We’re talking about doing and learning your art.)
If you sew your dress together in the wrong order so that you can’t sew the shoulder seams, sure, that might be a technical failure, maybe. But it doesn’t mean you’re a failure, or even that you’re a bad seamstress. It means you’re working. Learning. Getting better.
If you write a book and fail to put in conflict (HELLO, MY SECOND NOVEL DRAFTS ONE THROUGH FIVE) it doesn’t make you a bad person or a failed writer. It just means you’re working.
A listener of Sonya’s Periscope mentioned that students love seeing instructors’ mistakes.
Now. You know I talk a big game about how utterly terrible my first drafts are. Every writer says that. I’ve seen other writers’ first drafts and they may have typos, but they’re fine, but I AM NOT LIKE THEM, MY DRAFTS ARE NOT FINE.
They are shit. (Anne Lamott’s Shitty First Drafts spring to mind.)
I’m going to prove it. I’m going to plop down a piece of writing here to show you what a working, professional, well-reviewed writer’s early draft might look like.
Matty, eleven years old, boards the city bus his mother drives:
Today, Matty stuck his fist out, though, and that was nice. The fistbump. It was almost the same as a kiss, Fern thought. At least on these streets, it was. Matty had picked it up at school, and she’d liked it.
“How was your day?”
“Fine,” he said.
Matty always said fine. Even when his eyes were tired, even when they got that hunted look that meant someone had been picking on him at recess NOT THAT SMART NOT THAT GOOD AT ANYTHING BUT LIKES PLANTS? , he still said it was fine. He swung himself into the seat that Fern always kept for him by putting her coat over it. Funny, how there was obviously no one in the seat.
HOLY CATBOX – SOMEONE TAKE MY PEN AWAY I DON’T DESERVE TO HOLD IT
This is the same scene, final draft (shameless plug, The Ones Who Matter Most, April, preorder your copy today!)
“Hey, kiddo. You didn’t answer. Only twelve stops left. Wanna get pizza with me?” So I can break your perfect hopeful heart. While keeping her eyes on the road and her left hand on the wheel, Fern stuck her right fist out behind her.
“Okay.” Matty leaned forward and fist-bumped her. He’d picked it up from Fern’s brother, Diego, and on these streets, it was as good as a kiss. Matty, her baby boy who wasn’t a baby anymore. He was eleven, and someday he’d be a man, and he’d want to go by “Matias” instead of “darling Matty” or “mijo,” and then he probably wouldn’t let her kiss him good night, but Fern had this idea that she’d sneak up into his house on a ladder like the mother in I’ll Love You Forever and kiss him good night. Grown-up Matias would never know she’d been there, but maybe he’d sleep better because she had.
But all she had right now was this minute, and that’s just about all she had, so with her boy tucked safely in his corner seat, Fern made her coach dance.
Yep. That’s my voice. It takes me wandering through a quagmire of dreck, pushing through a draft just to get to my truck draft (the one that could be published if I got hit by a truck).
We keep going. YOU keep going. And we get, there, eventually, because we screw up. Not in spite of it. Fail harder, my friends.
Innovation is just someone getting tired of doing something one way and doing it another. – Sonya Philip
(And omg, Sonya has a pants pattern now.)
Beverly says
I just finished watching Sonya’s Periscope and loved it, too. I want to have every one of my students watch it! And you pulled out one of my fave comments–“failure is a bruise, not a tattoo.”
Thanks for sharing a shitty first draft excerpt…so encouraging to see how much the hard (and fun) work of revision matters.
Also: pants! I ordered the pattern!
Kristy says
I just finished a class assignment where we were expected to fail in order to learn from it, and of course I did just that. And then I had to rewatch the whole experience (because of course there was a video) and be critiqued by my peers. The universe has reminded me several times this week that mistakes are good and necessary. Thanks for being one of those times. 🙂
Mysti says
Love this! Sending this to a friend who is considering giving up writing because she hasn’t been published yet.
Even if it doesn’t come naturally, writers have to grow a sense of internal validation (“this draft is definitely almost not at all shitty”) to tide them over the lean periods, like a camel with water in her hump, patiently plodding toward a far-away oasis…
Celia says
I fail HARD and a lot these days! Thanks for validating that it’s okay. 🙂 And, wonderful example. Now I just need to learn to uncover (or is it coax out?) my voice. Years of failure, ahoy! Happy February!
jodi says
Yay you!! Yay you!! Love!
jodi says
I actually meant to write, “Yay this! Yay you…” but all good. 😉
Christian says
Once again I preordered 2 copies of your book for my mom and I.
All of our first attempts are bad. You should see some of the stuff I cook up.