I have to confess that no matter how many of the writers I love and respect say that only a tenth of what they write makes it to the final draft, I still struggle with the idea of spending time writing something that will not survive. As a student and blogger and writer of bad fiction, I have thrown away very little of my writing. I spend a lot of time working on it and tend to edit as I go, but it’s almost embarrassing how much my final draft resembles my first draft.
It’s not that I think my writing is precious and too good for the garbage can. It’s more that I’m obsessed with efficiency and constantly aware of time. I have this fire in my stomach that is always pushing me on toward the next thing. It pains me to realize that I will never publish the post I spent two hours writing yesterday. So much that even though I knew it almost immediately, I hid it from myself for a full day.
I know that time wasn’t actually wasted. In writing that post that was simultaneously self-important and apologetic for being self-important, I clarified some things for myself. And I’d like to think that even the wasted writing that does not provide such personal insight still counts for something and gets me in the habit of sitting down to write.
After reading one of the early drafts of my MA thesis, my advisor told me I needed to put more of myself into it and begin more sentences with “I think . . . .” So, I did. And then when he read a later draft, he told me that my argument was weakened by how many sentences I began with I. I should just write statements and not say things like, “I think . . . .” Before my eyes had a chance to bug out, he said, “I know I told you to do that. It was a necessary step. You’ve made those arguments and now you strengthen them by just removing all of the “I think/feel . . . .” That was the first time I saw any value in serious rewriting.
But I still struggle to have patience with the process.
A couple months ago, I was on a digital minimalism kick of some kind and deleted all of the blog drafts and ideas I’d been holding onto for too long. It felt really good at first, but since then I have a couple times wished I still had those posts. Quite strange for me, because I get rid of things all the time, and I never regret it. There was one post about how I didn’t want to ever own a home, and I deleted it and then someone asked me to write a post on that very topic. Right, so I rewrote it, and it was different, but probably better. Was throwing away that writing such a big deal? No. And after deleting the list of blog ideas I’d had forever, I immediately started a new one which is now 26 items long (well, 25 now).
It’s Friday, and I just know I’m going to spend a lot of time writing things this weekend that won’t be right to post. That’s still frustrating to me. Like, really really. I’m trying to get somewhere here, internet! But, something something, keep going keep going. It’s not time wasted.
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I want to hug you.
People keep saying “just write!” but it’s not that easy.
I’ve been staring at my writing journal all summer. I’ve gotten a few pages covered with words… But I can’t really say I’ve been writing this summer. And that is just as frustrating as feeling like I can’t write because I want the words to count. I know I just have to get over that. (Especially if I don’t want my instructors to yell at me when school starts back up!)
‘I’m trying to get somewhere.’ I read emotion in this post. That in its self is different.
You write because you love to put your ideas in ink? What someone might think about your ideas is about putting yourself out there for comment; it should not be your guiding light. The process is you, your own life experiences. That’s why I read your thoughts, they intrigue me. Resilience.
Groetjes.
Oh Jesus god almighty, I am the same way. My husband is a creative writer person and always says “Real writing starts when you re-write.” I understand the words he’s saying and can even grasp the concept, but I never ever ever ever want to do it. My thought is that I wrote these things, and it’s in a human language and I spent the time thinking and researching what I wrote, so it’s got to be good for something, please god let it be good for something.
Recently while I was throwing away all my notes from undergrad and grad school, my ever-wise husband was telling me re: my notes and papers and things the following: “If you had these thoughts and ideas once before you can easily have them again. But when you have them again they will be better-articulated and more refined.” I interpret that as, “You are better than you were yesterday, so don’t let yesterday hold you back.”
It doesn’t make it easier though. ;)
Great post! As a creative writer and blogger myself, I completely relate. I hate the idea of wasted writing! All that time and effort has to count for something! However, I do believe that the act of writing itself is what ultimately strengthens your writing. Sure you’ll spend time working on pieces of writing that you might throw away or rewrite, but the fact that you’ve written something and have something to work with in the first place is what matters! Just the other day I was working on a short story and I thought to myself, I’m probably going to delete everything I’ve worked on today once I revise this story. Does that mean I shouldn’t have wasted my time writing that part of the story? No! At least you’re writing! And as you said at the end of your post, “It’s not time wasted!”
I once wrote a good chunk of a short story I ended up deleting to write something else that was much better. If I would’ve turned in the first piece to my professor that semester he would have asked me what I was doing as an English major concentrating in creative writing.
I edit as I go as well, although I’ve read many times not to. I just can’t help it. As I write, I take breaks here and there to re-read what I’ve already written and make changes. I’ve read this is bad. And maybe it is, because that book I’ve been working on for the last four years still doesn’t have a completed first draft to its name. I actually decided to take a writing break (not counting blogging) until I get moved into my new place next month, just to give me some time to veg out and get the laziness out of my system so I’ll actually want to go back to the nitty gritty of writing and get things done. I made blogging the exception, though, because I can’t NOT write. I just can’t.
Forgive my language, but revising = mindfuck. I’m totally open to deleting, but usual incapable of it nonetheless.
Also, next time you delete blog post ideas, send 2 you toss my way. I usually operate on an idea deficiency, in both fiction and non. I’d be happy to take discards off your hands. :-)
I write anywhere from abou 5-7 pages worth of notes per day for work, but it’s largely technical, and doing so much clinical writing seems to have hampered the rest of my writing. Sigh.
But the point of this comment is this: I’ve been spending a good deal of time over the last year learning about photography. And I’ve found myself going out and shooting a lot, and taking hundreds of photos, only to end up keeping a choice few of them. When I first started, I saved every single photo I took. The more I do it, the more I look now for the ones that really capture me. I take a bunch of photos in the hope that even one of them freezes a moment in time just so.
It’s this, I think, that you’re talking about with writing. This thought has never before occurred to me, but it seems to make perfect sense.