Reading the First Draft of My Novel was More Painful Than Childbirth
Can I get some laughing gas to take the edge off?
Finishing an entire novel made me feel like a rockstar. I walked around with my head held high for days, practicing my autograph for when my book hit it big on Reese’s Book Club list.
I gave my novel some breathing room so I could approach it with fresh eyes. I waited ten weeks before reuniting with my literary masterpiece.
One hundred years wouldn’t have been long enough to prepare me for this.
I was excited to dig in. I knew I’d fall in love with the words I’d written on those pages so long ago. I was confident it would be a quick and enjoyable read and I envisioned only needing one or two more drafts.
HAHAHAHAHAhaHahahahaAHaha
(That maniacal laughter was also a page break)
I cracked open my laptop with a smile splitting my face in half as I began reading my beautiful words.
But then…
What’s happening here?
What the eff?
I wrote this trash?
Dear God, I must shield my eyes from this monstrosity! What was I thinking?!
It was bad, Tommy, real bad. (Rugrats, anyone?)
I snapped my laptop shut faster than a teenage boy hiding the dirty video he was watching.
I’ve heard the old cliche about how bad the first draft of a novel is and now I get it. I really get it. It’s amazing how blissfully unaware I was of the crap splattered on my pages in the weak semblance of a story. I was too busy falling in love with the idea of creating a world out of thin air.
I should note that it wasn’t all bad. For starters, the first page only had 45 adverbs and three out of five sentences contained a prepositional phrase. (This means two sentences did NOT, which is great!)
I learned a lot about myself while reading. It turns out, I love run-on sentences and I prefer my characters to constantly “grin widely”. I’m glad they’re happy with the world I built for them. Someone ought to be.
Until late last year, the only writing I ever did was for English classes. After my mom suggested repeatedly that I write a book, I got tired of saying “no” and gave it a shot. Moms are experts at guilting their kids into things. I can’t wait to try the mom guilt on my own children when they’re older.
As it usually happens, my mom was right. I enjoyed the experience so much that I joined Medium and have been writing ever since.
I know I need to give myself some grace as I am a baby tadpole at writing but it’s hard. I’m excited to start a novel writing course this summer and have some help navigating this mess I’ve created. Until then, I’m forced to suffer alone with my beautiful disaster.
Now, if you will excuse me, I have to dig through this massive pile of poo and see if there’s anything worth saving. I might end up with a three-sentence novel but at least I can say I tried.
Anyone else feel this way when rereading your writing? I’d love to hear from more experienced writers about how to cope with this!