I don’t intentionally sit down to write what Anne Lamott would call the “shitty first draft”, but it’s happening anyway, and it’s really not my style. It’s an experiment.
Because of NaNoWriMo, I have purposely abandoned the left side of my brain, but I haven’t turned it off. The left side longs to analyze, correct grammar, hunt down the perfect word, destroy my repetitive favorites, find a fresh way to say a familiar thing, make sure my lead character is sympathetic and the logic of my made-up world is clicking.
Instead, for the month of November, the right side is churning it out without looking back. At some points in the writing process, I don’t even remember what the next scene will be. In fact, I almost never do. When I look back to my plot (my 2,700 word plot developed last month), I’m sometimes surprised at what is up next. I’m also surprised at how many words are getting written every day, and a bit worried.
My word count goal has been scarily easy to achieve and the specter of the shitty first draft is looming large. I’ve experienced the wonderfulness of the rewrite–many times–but I have to wonder about the rewrite for NaNoWriMo. Currently, I’m envisioning a combination of cringing, clothes rending, and hysterical laughter.
It is all, however, part of the experiment. Besides, that won’t be for another 60,000 words. For now, I must dare to suck.
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