On First Drafts of Anything

Today on social media I'm seeing references to "shitty first drafts" and "bad" first drafts, and reading comments about how hard and awful it is to drag oneself to the computer to write these terrible documents. 

I want to offer an alternate view.

Maybe a first draft - of a book, a story, a poem, or a song or a painting or a sketch, or a new dish one is cooking, or the first ride after a month out of the saddle, or the first time one is repairing the grout around the kitchen sink - maybe these first efforts of anything could be seen for what they actually are. Beginnings. Adventures. Opportunities.

The first draft of a book is the one where the writer has the most freedom. The time when the writing can soar and dive and play and experiment. When no one judges it or expects it to be cohesive and polished. It's a time when the writer is on the prow of the boat crashing through waves, feeling the wind on her face, not worrying about the finer points of the thing but simply enjoying that wild ride.

Yesterday I got on Keil Bay for the first time in two weeks. There was target shooting going on nearby and many frightened deer in the woods. The Big Bay was on high alert. The ride consisted of me reassuring him, giving him things to do that helped release the adrenalin (serpentines, figure 8s, shoulder-in, lots of walk-trot transitions), and allowing him to circle back to the barn-side of the arena where the rest of the herd was gathered. Was it the best ride we've ever had? No. Was it a bad ride because we didn't have total harmony? No. What it was: the ride that got us back in the groove after some bad weather and a busy schedule. A ride that proved we can work through some anxiety and end up stretching and relaxing. 

We must give ourselves permission to be imperfect.

That doesn't mean we have to name the first doing of a thing "shitty" or bad. 

Why not give it a more positive spin?

First efforts are proof that we're moving and shifting and trying and working. A first draft is a beautiful thing because it represents movement and intention and belief that what we're doing is worthwhile to do.

What we call a thing has a lot of power. It colors our perspective.

Try reframing that "shitty" or "bad" name to something more powerful. The first draft of a new book could be something magical happening, a place where ideas catch fire and illuminate our creative selves. Try viewing that first ride after time off as time with your horse where you learn something new, where you offer softness and maybe get it back again, something to celebrate, a victory. 

Do it and come back and tell me if anything changes.