Shitty First Drafts
A new start to an old habit.
To kick off 2024, I published a video essay (linked below) discussing the idea of adding old habits back into your life. The habit I used as an example was pocket journals, and how I used them every single day, for a number of purposes. I maintained this habit during all four years of college, and carried it into the first few years of post-graduation, too. After sharing this video on YouTube, it occurred to me that my writing in college didn’t stop at to-do lists and quick thoughts; it was actually a core part of who I used to be.
As a Communications student, I took a number of journalism and writing classes. One professor in particular required us to create a Medium account in order to aggregate all of our pieces. I distinctly remember thinking this small (at the time) blogging tool was so cool, and it was the beautiful ease of Medium that encouraged me to write more. I wrote dozens and dozens of different articles for those classes, and enjoyed it so much that I started using it for my own ruminations, too. I loved discovering my voice through written word, and often treated it as a sanctuary to understand my own feelings. I wonder if I can still get into my old account?
Now, with that exposition aside, you’re probably curious about the title of this article. It’s a direct quote from a chapter of the book “Bird by Bird” by Anne Lamott. The chapter itself is titled “Shitty First Drafts,” in which Anne puts forth the idea that all beginnings — all “first drafts” — are shitty, and that you should take comfort in that. You have to start somewhere, because starting is better than nothing. And it’s only in starting, and then refining, and then refining some more, that you can begin to grow as an artist.
It’s not about overcoming the “shitty first draft” and then being done with it for the rest of your career. It’s not a mountain you climb once, and then never have to worry about again. It will be a common denominator in most things you create. Rather, it’s about rejecting the paralysis of perfection, and embracing the comfort of creation. You’re not going to nail it on the first try, and that’s okay. Just start, then refine; the rest will follow.
I don’t have a good ending for this, and that’s okay. I’ll probably edit it later anyway.