First Draft Blues

Well folks, today I finally started on that long and winding road toward a finished piece of writing, this being my sci-fi novelette "Treatment." My notes are all in order, my gorgeous Webster XL-800 typewriter is fitted with a fresh ribbon and a new (well, new to me) carrying case, and I have several glasses of liquid courage (aka tap water) in my system, so we're ready to go. I cranked out a solid two pages (one-inch margins, single-spaced), and I'm officially ready to call this project "BEGUN."

The problem? It sucks.

I don't much feel like a traditional blog post for this one. Not only would I just be repeating the same stuff you've heard ad nauseum, I'd just be hammering into myself principles I've already learned to apply (let's not forget that you're looking at a man who wrote a 50K-word novel in a month). No, no, there is no point to regurgitating the same adages and incorrectly-attributed quotes about letting first drafts be garbage. As helpful as they may be, they don't capture what the agony of a first draft feels like. Situations like this don't call for more tired repetitions. Times like this call for...the blues.

(Photo by Lionel Decoster, CC BY-SA 3.0, accessed via Wikimedia Commons)

First Draft Blues

A song by Brigham Larson

(NOTE: This was written at 9:30 and was not edited. Don't expect too much)

(Lyrics to be relayed with immense agony, while some guy slaps his knee and shreds on harmonica in the background)

I've been keepin' these ideas

Like I'm some kinda hoarder

I got half the right words

All in the wrong order

Two pages straight

And not one worth keepin'

While Stephen King's out

Droolin' gold while he's sleepin'

Sanderson wakes up

And pisses bestsellers

Some old Wattpad user

Haulin' notes to the teller

And here I'm sittin'

With a blank page and pen

Can I skip to the part

Where I'm the next Pynchon?

I got those first draft blues!

I got those first draft blues!

I been dictatin' and scrawlin'

Clench my teeth and I type

And yet all I got

Is this sub-Twilight tripe

I know it's okay though

Someday I'll revise

And these pages and pages

Will be gold in my eyes

I will nurture and nourish

For my book, I'm it's father

Unless I self-publish

In which case, why bother?