sand and sandcastles

Generally speaking, I have two modes of writing: a creative free-for-all where I turn off (or at least mute) the part of my brain that says, “don’t use that word, say that differently, oh no, that doesn’t work” and editing. Editing is where I reread what I wrote during the creative free-for-all and realize I’ve used the word “look” three times on one page and it’s not specific enough to describe a damned thing. (“He looked over there. She gave him a hard look. He looked good.” Yeah, no. Not precise or emotional enough.)

The problem comes when I mix the two modes. If I edit as I go, I don’t get anywhere. But if I don’t edit, it’s unreadable crap.

I need to let myself write the pages where I say, “He looked over there. She gave him a hard look. He looked good,” because it lets me keep going. I can always go back and describe the head swiveling, the searing gaze, the precise cut of his navy blue suit. I’ve experienced more than once that magic after I write crap for a bit when AHA a character says something vitally important that I would have missed if I’d stopped and fussed over the particular kind of look the character was doing. So, this is why first drafts are not published as is.

I’ve dealt with this tension before, and every writer knows it. Hemingway summed it up as “write drunk, edit sober.”

But I’ve finally come to appreciate that I can’t do both at once. Even if I’m tempted to. And all I need to do is designate which mode I’m in. They’re both valid.

For years, I’ve likened first drafts to creating the raw material that can later be molded. I usually call it making the clay to sculpt at a future date.

But over the past few days, I’ve started thinking of the first draft of a book as shoveling sand.

When I free write, I’m just making a big ol’ pile of sand somewhere to shape into sandcastles later.

The key is, I can’t do both at the same time. I can’t shovel and pack sand into molds because the next shovel will just destroy whatever it was I was trying to do. And I’ll get stuck and frustrated and spend all year on one book that I end up tossing.

(Not that I’m thinking of anything in particular here.)

The goal is to create a large enough pile of sand so I can then take my buckets and my castle molds and my little red plastic shovel and make something.

Hopefully something someone out there will want to read, too.