I am currently documenting the process of writing my next book. It's a behind-the-scenes look at the beautiful, messy adventure of transforming my short-form writing (emails, social media posts, random notes) into a cohesive, compelling manuscript. If you've ever wondered if you could turn your own short pieces into a full-length book, join my newsletter and learn how.
Writers sketch, too
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Reader, As much as I love Anne Lamott, I'm ready to ditch the idea of "shitty first drafts." I have Gary Larson to thank for this epiphany. My sons like to read while they eat, and one of them left The Prehistory of The Far Sidesplayed open on the kitchen table last night. The Far Side is always wonderful, but this particular volume is one of my favorite. Larson offers a glimpse into his creative process. One section—the one Charlie had left open—contrasts finished panels with the drawings that Larson originally started with. Sitting down, I flipped through, captivated by the difference between where he started and where he ended up. Larson didn't talk dismissively about his original drawings. Instead, he kept describing them as "sketches"—a term that immediately caught my attention. And sometimes, he admitted that he preferred the original to the polished comic that eventually ran in newspapers across the country. So, going forward, rather than talk about writing "shitty first drafts," I'm going to use Larson's term, for two reasons. First, it accurately captures what we're trying to do in a first draft. We're not setting out to write something terrible. We're trying to feel things out. We're playing with words as a way to get at the shape of what we want to say. We're unpacking everything in our heads and pouring it out on the page. We know that some of it doesn't belong, but we also know that we can't discern what does until we see our words in black and white. (Or whatever color of gel pen you like to use.) Second, to call something we've written a "shitty first draft" is a cop-out. We're telling ourselves and others not to take it seriously. We're declaring a judgment instead of displaying curiosity. Really, we're trying to soothe our wounded ego, which bizarrely expects every sentence that flows from our fingers to be instantly pristine and dazzling. Words matter. Terms matter. Don't abuse yourself as you write. Believe that your first draft—your sketch—is valuable and good, even though you're going to be revising and reshaping it. Speaking of sketches, I wrote the first new sketch for The Thrill of Writing tonight. It's three pages long and just over 1,000 words. I'm tentatively calling it "Playing Hooky." It's about the March 2021 morning when I rediscovered my ability to write. That was a remarkable moment for a few different reasons. (We'll see how many of them make it into the final version.) I plan to revise the essay between now and next Monday. My goal: I want to share both versions with you. Since the goal of this series is to write my book in public, it seems only fair to revise in public too. I'm not going to do that with everything in the book, but I thought some of you might enjoy seeing how I go about my editing work. At least, that's the sketch I'm running with for now. We'll see what actually shows up in your inbox next week. Keep your stick on the ice. Frank Ewert |
The Thrill of Writing
I am currently documenting the process of writing my next book. It's a behind-the-scenes look at the beautiful, messy adventure of transforming my short-form writing (emails, social media posts, random notes) into a cohesive, compelling manuscript. If you've ever wondered if you could turn your own short pieces into a full-length book, join my newsletter and learn how.
Reader, "Purpose" is a tricky word. Each and every one of us needs to feel a sense of purpose. It's what gets us out of bed in the morning, even when the alarm goes off earlier than we'd like and we find ourselves practicing smiles to flash at the bully who signs our paychecks. This need isn't just an existential question. We desperately want to feel like the activities we give our time to are actively engaging who we really are. We don't want to be loved simply for the things we do for other...
Reader, If you want to write a book, you have to get comfortable with two uncomfortable things: uncertainty and the unknown. Everything about writing is uncertain. Will the right words flow from your fingertips when you crack open your laptop? Will anyone care enough to open the email? Will they make it to the second stanza of your poem? If they dislike what you say, will they leave a scathing remark about your weight? If they like it, will they bother to tell you or will they, like everyone...
Reader, Over the past week, I combed through nearly four years' worth of my email newsletters. I cringed in anticipation as I made my way back to the very first emails that I sent. But you know what? As I read them, I thought they were actually pretty good. A lot of those early newsletters didn't make the cut for my first book draft, but that was because they aren't related to The Thrill of Writing. What WAS embarrassing was my discovery that, just over two years ago, I made this...